Worth Reading. Worth Saving.

This is the text of the speech that Bob Hattoy gave at the 1992 Democratic Convention. He was the first openly gay man to speak to that sort of audience, and certainly the first person with AIDS. He died a few months back, but I still want to mark this as something to remember.


BOB HATTOY: Thank you. I love you. Thank you, California. Thank you, Gay and Lesbian community. Thank you, Congresswoman Pat Schroeder. Thank you, Aretha Franklin, God.

I am here tonight because of one man's courage and conviction, one man's dedication and daring and yes, one man's true kindness. He's my boss, Bill Clinton. (Applause)

You see, I have AIDS. I could be an African American woman, a Latino man, a 10-year old boy or girl. AIDS has many faces. And AIDS knows no class or gender, race or religion, or sexual orientation. AIDS does not discriminate, but George Bush's White House does. (Applause)

AIDS is a disease of the Reagan-Bush years. The first case was detected in 1981, but it took 40,000 deaths and seven years for Ronald Reagan to say the word "AIDS." It's five years later, 70,000 more dead and George Bush doesn't talk about AIDS, much less do anything about it.

Eight years from now there will be 2 million cases in America. If George Bush wins, we're all at risk in America. It's that simple. It's that serious. It's that terrible. (Applause)

(Chants of "No second term!")

This is hard. I'm a Gay man with AIDS and if there's any honor in having this disease it's because it's an honor being part of the Gay and Lesbian community in America. (Applause)

We have watched our friends and lovers die, but we have not given up hope. Gay men and Lesbians created community health clinics, provided educational materials, opened food kitchens, and held the hands of the dying in hospices. The Gay and Lesbian community is an American family in the best sense of the word. (Applause)

President Bush, we are a million points of light; you are just too morally blind to see us. Mr. President, you don't see AIDS for what it is - it's a crisis in public health that demands medical experts, not moral judges - and it's time to move beyond your politics of denial, division and death. It's time to move George Bush out of the White House. (Applause)

We need a President who will take action, a President strong enough to take on the insurance companies that drop people with the HIV virus, a President courageous enough to take on the drug companies who drive AIDS patients into poverty and deny them lifesaving medicine. And we need a President who isn't terrified of the word "condom." (Applause)

Every single person with AIDS is someone worthy of caring for. After all, we are your sons and daughters, fathers and mothers. We are doctors and lawyers, folks in the military, ministers and priests and rabbis. We are Democrats, and yes, Mr. President, Republicans. We are part of the American family and, Mr. President, your family has AIDS and we're dying and you're doing nothing about it. (Applause)

Listen. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. But I don't want to live in an America where the President sees me as the enemy. I can face dying because of a disease, but not because of politics.

So I stand here tonight in support of Bill Clinton, a man who sees the value in each and every member of the American family. And although I am a person with AIDS, I am a person with hope, because I know how different my life and all our lives could be if I could call my boss Mr. President.

Martin Luther King once said that our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter. Fifty thousands people took to the streets in New York today because they will no longer be silent about AIDS. (Applause)

Their actions give me hope. All of you came here tonight; millions more are watching in America. Obviously, we have hope and hope gives me the chance of life. I think it's really important to understand that this year, more than any other year, we must vote as if our life depends on it. Mine does; your could - and we all have so much to live for. Thank you.

(Standing ovation)

Act Up. Fight Back. Fight AIDS. Thank you.

A Day with Life

I spent the day today doing something important. It's funny, because I would so often like to think that the accomplishments of a day are "important." The minutia of law school helps us to lose ourselves in the self-love of what sort of things we can get done on behalf of clients, what kind of arguments we can make, what kind of battles we can win.

And today I blew all of that stuff off. I skipped most of the day's various obligations because a friend needed me. I called into my clinic and said, "I'm sorry that I won't be coming in. Actually, no. No. I'm not sorry. This is something I have to do." And it was.

A dear friend from school had to endure the horror of her partner going through emergency surgery. Another friend and I arrived at the hospital just as she was starting to contemplate what would happen if she lost this wonderful, dear person in her life. It immediately became clear how I needed to spend the rest of my day.

We didn't really "do" anything. We were just there. It was the only role we really could play. And yet it was the only one we really needed to.

I learned early in my life that there can be no greater appreciation of life than in the face of death. And there is no greater appreciation of love than in the face of loss. To see my friend anxious and upset over her love gave me a glimpse into the depth of their relationship, and the immensity of their love. I got to be a witness to how two people in this world have come to mean everything to each other in a way that takes my breath away. It gives me hope. Even in this sadness, there was hope.

It's truly amazing with these trials life hands us. They may be the hardest things that we ever bear, but they bring us closer to those around us. Remind us of what is important. And most amazingly they remind us of all the love that surrounds us. Lest I seem heroic or noble or whatever, I was only one of the core group of friends at school that has "been there" for this one. Each offered their distinct aspects of friendship. Whether it was humor, tact, listening, medical knowledge, administrative know-how.... each has supported this friend in their own way. And it fills me with great happiness to know that they would be there for me as well. That this trial, and our response to it, was not just a testament to my friendship to her, but to our friendship to each other.

I feel so blessed to have gotten to do something so important today as just being a friend.

Musical Fodder for my Writing:
"Tomorrow is a Long Time" Nickel Creek,
Why Should the Fire Die? TITLE

A Little Journey Makes it All Better

I had a very very long day. Work is piling up, and I came home just drained to the point of exhaustion. I havent eaten, and I have no food in the house, no desire to order anything, and no energy to cook even the Ramen that I have left... Then my iTunes randomly hit on a Journey song, and my outlook got just a bit brighter.

The song triggered a fantastic memory from my last trip to Chicago. My sister and I completely jamming out to Journey blasting in Dad's mini-van while he is looking more and more perplexed by our strange enchantment at the song... We're not the only ones...