A stricken tree, a living thing, so beautiful, so dignified, so admirable in its potential longevity, is, next to man, perhaps the most touching of wounded objects…
I met with some people today about putting together an exhibit to commemorate 30 years of HIV in Colorado. Actually, I am not sure why I was there. I can only imagine that it is because I have managed to get a couple of things done over the last couple of years. But I really haven’t been involved in the HIV community for any more than the last 5. Before that, I didn’t really bother with much about the “community” as I didn’t understand fully that in Colorado that “community” is separate from the larger “LGBTQ” community. I always thought they were symbiotic.
But now I understand that they are separate entities. The LGBT community here doesn’t necessarily want to take ownership of the other. Initially, I believe things were different, but perhaps with the onset of Anti-Retroviral Therapies, the drift began to happen. people were tired and wanted to heal from the hardship.
so there i sat today at lunch with a couple of others having to accept what a curmudgeon i have become. as one pontificated on and on as he always does, my serenity drained like a balloon with a pinhole. i am interested in developing a piece of education that may inform others, empower others, or may wake old passions, but i am not sure i am interested in sitting through the process that must exist in order to produce it.
although i fully support a memorial, maybe, i am not prepared to “unpack” all those old boxes. i’m becoming a gnarly, prickly, old man. it is happening sooner than i was ready for