When the first AIDS quilt was created in 1987 it took just a little time to reach me where I lived in Chicago. It was a time when sex, as a typical teenage subject, was not at all taboo. But at the time I recall my friends and I wanting to ignore what was going on in our world. For those of you who don’t know what the AIDS quilt is, you can find more information about it here. In our home, my parents had the philosophy that they wanted to expose us to every kind of culture they could. As young girls my sisters and I took tap, ballet, acting classes, and attended summer camps that allowed us to learn how to play tennis and racquetball. Later, we ran track and cross country, played softball, volleyball, and basketball. We got to take art classes and spent time at the Jewish Community Center after our Catholic schooling and we went to a Hispanic babysitter who taught us Spanish. By the time I got to high school it is safe to assume that I was exposed to a lot of fantastic things. 

So, when my mother suggested that I go with her to McCormick Place in Chicago and view the AIDS quilt, it was just another thing she wanted to reveal to me about life and humanity. By this time, I was a high school senior with a 2-year old daughter. It was, of course, unconventional. It was something that my family hadn’t expected to be in my life plans, but there it was: just a simple fact of the way things were working out for me. I had, by this time, also had a second daughter whom I placed for adoption and had, shall we say, had some experience. 

I’m not tying this into sex and AIDS or anything. These are just facts.

On this particular day my mother, Mallory and I headed out to see this quilt my mom had been going on and on about. I’ve learned about activism from my mom. Tonight, she’s out getting ready for a rally to protest some crazy, ignorant folks who are protesting “The Laramie Project”. Her church is going out in support of people who want to see it and, well… that’s just my mom for ya. On her way out the door just now she said, “When I come back home, I’ll be in full rebel mode.” She’s just the cutest darned thing, isn’t she? But back to 1989, shall we?

The AIDS quilt is incredibly enormous. It was spread out on the floor in panels and people were allowed to walk around them and look at the decorative patterns and names. People were working there to help explain what the quilt was and they each walked around holding a box of tissues. I was just in awe of the sheer number of people who had succumbed to this disease. Mallory didn’t ask me to explain anything. She just held my hand and walked along with me because my mom had wandered off on her own at this point. And I hadn’t cried. Mostly, I spent time walking around them and avoiding eye contact with anyone because this is a big thing to take in when you see it. It can consume you. People were weeping in corners and touching the fabrics and as many people as were in that place I don’t remember a single face. 

Sometime later, I happened upon one of the names. I saw the dates of his life and it said that he and his partner had both died from the virus. It was just some simple name. Nothing too memorable. Plain. No other details of his life were mentioned but that was probably what did it. The dam broke and the tears would just not stop. Someone touched my shoulder and offered me a tissue. 

Do you know how sometimes in life people ask you a question and you just answer the first thing that comes to mind and you’re glad you didn’t spend time thinking too hard about how best to answer them? After I stopped my tears a bit he asked, “Anyone in particular?”

He wanted to know if I had finally happened upon a quilt piece belonging to a friend or a loved one. He wanted to know if I recognized the name. He wanted to know what my connection was to this faceless person and I honestly didn’t even have one. So I threw my hands up and quietly answered, “Everyone in particular.”

That’s only one of the reasons I’m attending the viewing of “The Laramie Project” this weekend. This is for all of us, people. Even the ones filled enough with so much hatred that they want to yell and scream at the rest of us. But, also for the friends and family members who only want to love who they love and get unnecessarily taken to task for it. It’s what I was taught to do by parents who lovingly introduced humanity to me in a real and tangible way.

It’s for everyone.