How do you measure a year in the life?

525,600 minutes, 525,000 moments so dear.
525,600 minutes: How do you measure,
measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In 525,600 minutes - how do you measure a year in the life?
How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love.
Seasons of love.

~ From "Seasons of Love", RENT

***

Like other parts of my life, the Grove now brings me full circle. Just as I say that when I am in San Francisco I am alive, the same holds true for the Grove.

What the Grove embodies is that inexplicable but unmistakable reason why I live in San Francisco. When I am in the Grove I am alive.

I know the City has flaws and challenges and its own problems, but this City has more of one thing than any other city I have ever been to – heroes.

~ Mike Shriver

***

Something has been accelerating lately... a cosmic push that's led me to some eye-opening and life-changing meetings. I can't describe it exactly but some of the people that have been meeting me, many of whom will appear soon on i live here:SF are filling me with appreciation and awe.

There's been a concentration of happenings — I don't know what else to call them exactly — of people who have entered my life and awareness, almost en masse. These meetings bring into question my supposed belief that there are no coincidences, that we place too much importance on things happening for a reason. That we ascribe importance to random events that really are only random events, but our need to believe in a universal something makes us yearn for a design, a plan.

***

Only a couple of weeks ago did I meet Mike. Perhaps it's the new camera, but when I have it around my neck, people come over and talk to me. It's like part of my uniform now.

So I'm in Dolores Park, on my way to meet someone I've never met for a photo shoot, as is my way. ;-) This slight man, wielding a larger camera than mine makes eye contact and asks me if I've ever seen the red-tailed hawk that lives in the park. I haven't. Then we get to talking: about birds, camera, being obssessed with photography, and one things leads to another and then it's like I've known Mike forever.

I have no idea how the subject of the National AIDS Memorial Grove comes up. But then it turns out that we have a mutual friend, a wonderful man named Jack Porter who helped found the Grove. So we had even more in common.

December 1 was World AIDS Day. Mike texted me to see if I could help him cover the day's events and help him take photos of the celebration, awards and speakers. Of course, I got there as soon as I could. I have photos to share that I'll be uploading soon. What I will try to relate as well is the feeling of incredible love and hope that exists today for those on the forefront of fighting AIDS and discrimination for HIV+ people. What I learned about this disease, now in the 25th year since its discovery, shook me deeply and also made my eyes fill with tears of compassion for the people who live with this illness on some level daily.

For those of us who think our lives are not affected by AIDS and never will be, it's just not true. I asked Mike to share his special SF story with us and it is a beautiful story. I hope you'll read it.

If I could hold you for one hour more.

You've got to watch out for Red Shoes. Not only is she one of the most gorgeous people I've ever taken a photo of, but she knows her way around scaffolds and electricity and wires and has a toolbox way bigger than yours.

When Red Shoes asks you if you want to see one of the plays she's been working on (as a lighting designer extraordinaire, and you DO want to see her shows), she forgets to tell you to bring Kleenex or a hankie.

So far, because of Red Shoes, I have spent hours with the murdered and fallen souls at the siege of Troy, the first woman to die in the electric chair, and now a dysfunctional family who made me laugh until one of the family dies from AIDS. I'm glad I was wearing a cotton scarf around my neck, because it's the only thing I had to wipe my eyes with for the last 15 minutes of Falsettos. (Just so you know, I've enjoyed every minute of what I've seen.)

I came to this play for the rumors of the disco ball and the gefilte fish and ended up sitting with a room full of people, many older male couples, who were all blinking away tears.

No simple answers.
But what would I do
If you had not been
My friend.
My friend.
My friend.

***

Seeing this play tonight really resonated because of someone I met on New Year's Day.

In Golden Gate Park, one of the most lovely places you can walk around is the National AIDS Memorial Grove. A lot of people don't even know it's there, but it's a gentle and serene place where the spirit is soft and comforting. There is a dell of redwood trees, and well tended paths that are always quiet and peaceful.

When you enter the grove, you see this. They are the names of people who have passed away from AIDS, or those who generously try to find a cure so many years later. The names cover much more of the ground than you see here. This is all I could fit in my field of view.

On New Year's Day, I wanted to walk there.
As I headed into the grove, instead of just the empty sanctuary, I saw this gentleman and his Christmas tree. He was carefully taking the ornaments off of the tree and placing them in a plastic bucket. It was quite cold outside and he had a lot of ornaments to take off of the tree, so I asked him if he needed any help. He looked surprised and happy, so together we spent at least an hour undecorating the tree and talking.

Turns out that he's one of the people who first helped to reclaim a swampy mess full of homeless encampments in the park and turn it into the wooded, beautiful sanctuary it is today, a place that gives solace to many, even those whose lives have never been touched by loss.

As we packed up the ornaments, he showed me a faded red ribbon, with the name "Stephen" written on it in black marker. Look, he says, this was my partner. We were together for eight years before he died. He told me how they met (car breakdown on the side of the road) and about the holidays they shared, with extended family and his partner's children from a previous marriage, all grown up now. He put on a happy face and we changed the subject.

Tonight, when I saw this play, I could not help think of this kindly man and his Christmases past, and the Stephen whose red ribbon still makes one person very happy to remember him. Find someone you love right now and give them a hug if you can. I'm going to. He's asleep but I'm going to hug him and try not to wake him up.

xoxo

***

ps.: There is a documentary being made about the National AIDS Grove. You can learn more about the film and watch the trailer here.