World AIDS Day Eve - 2010

I made a decision, yesterday evening...

On the eve of World AIDS Day, a beautiful experience was offered at the National AIDS Memorial Grove in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park. As the gloaming receded into night, I arrived at the top of The Grove and walked toward the little tent that housed the check-in table. As I approached, one of the greeters put out his hand. Taking it, I said "hello, my name's Kile Oz..." and he said, "KILE OZIER!? It's great to meet you!" Then took me over to table to get my name tag...

This does not happen to me, in New York.

The Grove was magic. As one walked the winding pathway, down through the trees and into the embracing quiet, one passed through beautifully lit, natural architecture of the lush foliage. Along the pathway, flashlight bearing volunteers would quietly greet...smiling gently, completely welcoming and unobtrusive...allowing the Grove to cast its spell...

I felt my pulse grow more quiet as I neared the floor of the glen. Turning toward the Circle of Friends, where Terry's name is engraved in the stone along with hundreds of others lost to this relentless virus, I was immersed in the rediscovery of a place I know already so well. Seeing this in darkness, looking ahead at individuals lighting and placing candles on the names of their loved ones, lost...deep emotions began to flow to the surface.

The quiet was palpable, the whispers of the others were distantly intimate, the scene was almost surreal, magical, loving, moving... I was given my candle, lit it from the flame in the hand of a friend and walked to where Terry's name waited. Placing this glowing tribute to my deeply felt loss at my feet, I looked anew at the names that wound from the tower of crystal and flame at the center of the circle.

I realized that I personally knew most of the men whose names start the circle and initiate the flow of memorial around and around the center...it's a virtual timeline of my own past. Friends with whom I laughed, labored, loved, lurked, launched scores of youthful adventures in this town where we discovered ourselves; not knowing that discovery would steal so many from our midst...

The words of one of my favorite songs came to mind,
"My brother lived in San Francisco
He said he'd finally found his place,
And when I go to San Francisco,
Everywhere I look, I see his face..."

Continuing on through the Grove to the Meadow, past a stone-filled brook flowing with a river of blue light, past sparkling evergreens, glowing movement among the trees, hanging candles and lovingly lit memorials, I arrived at the tent...

This big, completely clear, crystalline, glittering tent that was filled with friends.

One after another, I encountered men and women I have not seen in five, ten, some even fifteen years or more. Other survivors from the trenches of the early years, other fighters of the fight, caregivers, doctors and nurses, friends I've held as they cried, friends who've held me as I've cried...our faces were alight with joy of seeing one another, almost gleeful surprise at recognition and reconnection.

I can't describe the feeling that grew inside me as people would recognize me and exclaim or call-out and we'd grab one another to simply FEEL one another. It has been a very long time since I have felt so welcomed, so much a part of something good and greater, so surrounded by people who know and care...so surrounded by friends...so at home.

People would pass by and just reach out and grab my shoulder and squeeze, or we'd hug one another and hold on for an extra moment, two...really feeling one another and whispering in each other's ears..."how ARE you...? ...it's SO good to see you..." Sotto voce declarations of deeply felt mutual welcome and appreciation.

We've been through the worst of times, together. We've watched our City go from Paradise to Bleak Darkness...and planted seeds of renewal that are coming to fruition only now... Some of us have left and some of us have stayed, but we were all together, last night.

During the program, I just looked around. This City is just big enough to be a City, just small enough that when that scourge came down on us, we were one army, no factions. We who've made it through are seasoned and lined, but the smiles remain...or have returned.

I have history, here. I realized what a part of this City I am, and what a profound part of who I am is due to this city and my experience, here. I realize how much I sense I belong, here in San Francisco.

My work with Amnesty International is scheduled to continue until early 2012. When I am finished; I'm coming home.