Remembering the memories of others

A little over a week ago, killing time in Lamba Rising before meeting Bob S. for dinner, I picked up a couple of old books. One of these, Epitaphs for the Living: Words and Images in the Time of AIDS is a large book. Each page is a photograph of someone living with AIDS or HIV, with some note in their handwriting below. The photographer is Billy Howard.

Today I opened the book and found the page for Tom Fox, Atlanta, Georgia, February 27, 1988:

Lots of times when I can't stand the "human comedy" anymore, I escape to someplace with my dogs. It's always the best times, because they demand so little and give so much. How many people do you know who can offer that? For the simple price of a hug and a pat, all the love in the world is unleashed!

Life's sure funny -- for years I worried about what it would be like when they were gone -- how would I cope without their love? Now I worry more about what will happen to them when I'm gone. Who will explain where I am and what happened? I wonder if they'll ever understand.

I don't like to think about it so much, but sometimes I picture my own death. I never think of it in terms of a cold, sterile hospital room surrounded by strangers, but always in my own bed with the sun shining in the windows and my dogs at my side. They say Death is a road we must walk alone. But, you know, for me I'm sure my dogs will be there.

The other book is Living With AIDS: A Photographic Journal by Sal Lopez. I bought these books because the images and words remind me of the time I never really lived in. I was still in high school until 1986. I didn't move to Baltimore and start finding my community until 1990.

Tom's words made we want to cry and I wonder what happened to him and his dogs. They look so happy in the photo.

Beautiful

It's a beautiful world out there -- the snow keeps drifting down. I'm warm inside, listening to soft music and reading. I stand at the window and watch one of the neighbors playing fetch with his dogs. They lope down the alleyway, chasing the ball, racing each other, returning to their master with their prize.

Later, I'll get a call from Chris K. and I'll join him for lunch. I'll bring my camera and I'll take pictures of my city wearing its new winter cloak.

A relaxing afternoon.

Chris and I had lunch at the Mt. Vernon Stable and Saloon and returned to my apartment. I sat him at my computer so he could look up weather and traffic reports (traffic.com -- very cool!), but he soon started fishing for amateur e-stim porn, which led to a fabulous round of sex.

I had forgotten to gather up my camera as we stomped off for lunch, so I grabbed it as I walked him to his truck. I got a few shots, but I really wish I had remembered it earlier while the snow was still falling.