At 60, The Mind Was Sharp But

All Of My Peers Died Of Aids, And I Have No One To Celebrate My Past Or My Journey, Or To Help Me Pass Down Stories To The Next Generation. We Lost An Entire Generation Of Storytellers With Hiv.

My Family Lived Off The Land And Summer Evening Meals Featured Baked Stuffed Tomatoes, Potato Salad, Corn On The Cob, Fresh Shelled Peas And Homemade Ice Cream With Strawberries From Our Garden. With No Air Conditioning In Those Days, The Cool Porch Was The Center Of Our Universe After The Scorching Days.

Over The Years, Hiv/aids Activists And Their Allies Have Been Pioneers In Creating New Frontiers In The Medical Establishment. Through Their Efforts, The Fda Drug Approval Procedures Were Reformed So Promising New Therapies Could Reach Desperate Patients Quicker.

Pharmaceutical Companies Have Invested Hundreds Of Millions Of Dollars In New Hiv/aids Treatments Not Out Of Altruism But Because They Can Make Up Those Research Costs In Sales.

I Had Old Bunk Beds That My Dad Got From Seabrook Farms. They Were First Used By German Prisoners During World War Ii, Who Were Sent To Work The Farms During The War. The Metal Beds With Their Thin Mattresses Could Easily Be Used As A Jungle Gym And I Loved Them.