Remembering the first in Asheville to lose their life to AIDS

I've been avoiding putting today's thoughts down on paper because if I go too far, it'll throw me back over an edge I climbed back from years ago. A place I never want to visit again. Dennis immediately became my best friend in Asheville soon after we moved here in 1985. And he's the first person I ever heard call Asheville, Ashevegas. He was a bartender at the old O.Henry's in downtown Asheville when just about everything around it was boarded up. My husband had introduced me to the place as the 'closest thing Asheville has to a New Orleans bar.' He was right. It became our neighborhood pub and was close to the newspaper where he worked. It was a bar full of characters, including a young reporter for Channel 4, and other interesting types. Real freaks of Asheville, including us.

Dennis came down with HIV in the early '90s and although he accepted that *positive* status and stigma , he never wanted to think about what it would be like when the time would come that he might have to experience full blown AIDS. He couldn't; so he didn't. He turned to drugs and alcohol.

Dennis blew his brains out about 13 years ago because he'd rather die by his own hand than wither away with AIDS and have to have his lover of umpteen years change his dirty diaper. They lived in Tennessee at the time. It hurt a lot of us bad. To the core bad. It was a selfish act to go that way, particularly since he left no note and he could've gotten some help. He wasn't at death's door yet. I cried for months and numbed myself with far too much alcohol, particularly when his ex and I would get together, at the cabin where they had lived. I couldn't deal with that place. Every time I'd go out on the front porch, I'd start looking for little pieces of brain matter or some other part of Dennis that might have been left behind.

Finally, I had to stop going to visit. For my own health - mental and physical. We'd still talk on the phone quite often and eventually he moved also. I don't booze it and bawl anymore, but I do think of Dennis quite often. Sometimes with a tear. Other times, with a smile. Always with a 'I wish you were here to see this.' I no longer can say whether it was a selfish act or not, though I tend to fall on that side when I see how his suicide has forever affected his partner. But other times I realize it was his life. His death. His choice to make at the time.

I also remember a lot of other people who went before Dennis, and after. I remember the time when one of the first infected who came home to Asheville to die was mourned at O.Henry's. His name was Charlie. Tommy was the first person in Asheville to die of AIDS. I didn't have the honor of knowing him, but his name was always mentioned at anyone's wake and funeral who succumbed afterwards. I have a friend who has a list. She quit counting at 181.

Thank goodness not everyone took the same path as my friend Dennis. But, many did die because there was no cure nor medicine to prolong their life at the time. It's a whole new world today and no one should ever have to die of this horrible disease again.

There is a Candlelight Memorial Vigil tonight, Dec., 1, 7-9 pm on the lower promenade of Pack Place, in Asheville. If you can find the time, please come and show your support for the fight to kill AIDS, or just to remember a loved one no longer with you. Whatever the reason. And, if you can't make the event, please give a moment of silence to think about the more than 25 million people who have died worldwide due to AIDS.

For more info: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Western-North-Carolina-AIDS-Project/286586386014

Really? I have to go shopping while my eyeball is still healing and irritated?

Really? I have to go shopping while my eyeball is still healing and irritated? Ok. I'm very thankful and honored the boys just HAVE TO HAVE two of my Holiday recipes. One of them really is worth making me get out. It's a recipe for a sweet potato casserole that has lots of pecans, crushed cornflakes, and brown sugar. Although the sweet potatoes and pecans are quite good for you, all of the butter, sugar and brown sugar wipe out the healthy part. Or, maybe they balance each other. Who knows? Who cares? It's just downright devilicious. The other dish is one that I'm sure is on everyone's table at this time of year, macaroni and cheese. However this one is the dee-luxe version that includes sour cream and cottage cheese. Another fattening, but oh so tasty, worth the calories, etc. kind of fare. And to be honest, the guys have volunteered to help with the cooking and clean-up.


But ... I'm wishing, yet once again, that my name were Samantha and I held magical powers, and could twitch my nose and skip the grocery lines.


Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

"In a few years" is going to come way too soon

Zach being on crutches has handicapped the entire household. He really helps out quite a bit around here. Chores that became his: kitchen trash duty; getting the recycling ready for pick-up, then bringing the empty containers back inside; making sure the street trash container makes it to the curb and then returns to its hidden home behind the bushes; mowing the yard; getting the leaves mulched at this time of year; turning down my boiling over water in the kitchen when I have walked away and started doing something else; checking the pressure in my tires; and more. In other words, the little bugger is very much a part of what makes the Hyorth household work each day.

I realize now how I've just gotten used to him doing what he's supposed to do. Sure, he has to be reminded sometimes, but don't we all? It's also a huge, in-the-face, get ready message to mom that her not so little boy/young man will be leaving home in a few years. And, I'm just not ready for that day. Never thought I'd hear myself say that out loud. I'm proud of my independent streak and I've often downright bragged about leaving home at 18 and never having had to return and move back in. Looking back, I left home way too soon and for all the wrong reasons, but that's a tale for another time.

What I realize today, is that maybe instead of reminding with the mother tone that says "Zach ....", perhaps I need to remember just how much he does help. Remind him that his taking care of certain chores has given him a sense of responsibility that has earned our trust. I also need to hug him more often. "In a few years" is going to come way too soon, I suspect.

Gotta go ... I hear the water boiling.

Beginning of my adoption story, in play format

This is an evolving process and I'm looking for feedback on the beginning. I've written it several different ways and I'm stuck. Would love to hear some feedback. Good, bad, don't care, whatever. Criticism does not bother me.

"ACT I

1.1.Lights up on Tracy center of stage, almost backlit.

Tracy: My story begins with her story. But she never wanted me to know about all that.


Lights down on Tracy

1.2.  Lights up on young Judy standing on box. Lights only on her.

Judy: It won’t fit.

Voice: (not on stage) Of course it will fit.

Judy: No, it won’t.

Voice: You’re being silly, dear. I just did the measurements a couple of weeks ago. It will be fine.

Judy. No, it won’t. I’ve gained some weight. ….  I am pregnant.


Lights out on Judy.

1.3 Lights up on two nurses, sitting at single, stark desk

Nurse 1: Well, we got another one coming here real soon.

Nurse 2: Where from?

Nurse 1: Big Spring.

Nurse 2: Where in the world is that?

Nurse 1: Somewhere out west ‘a Abilene. Another po-dunk in the middle of nowhere.

Nurse 2: When is she gettin’ here?

Nurse 1: Last week of July. Her family’s supposed to bring her. But I’ll check the bus schedule just the same.


Lights out on Nurses.

1.4  Lights back up on Tracy, sparse set, desk, laptop, floor-length lamp

Tracy: My first bus ride into the big city. How exciting. Not. It was a lonely, sad trip. Judy didn’t say much. Mostly she just read the romance novel (insert novel of the time here) she’d brought along to read. I think she touched me at least once or twice, maybe three times at the most. I felt her hand tap her tummy. I also felt fed and nourished. But I didn’t feel much of the ‘love thing.’ This would be my first – and last bus ride taken with my biological mother."

I know. Not much there right now, but that's why I'm stuck and wouldn't mind some honest feedback. I've told this story a million times. Wish I'd had a tape recorder. But I'm going the play route first, at least for now, and I'm not all that experienced writing plays even though I'e acted in many, many shows. It's not the same. So, lay it on me, will ya? Thanks, ya'll

"Daddy we named him Zachary John." "Everything's done?"

Zach's 16 birthday was yesterday. It was not so sweet, but it is one he will remember for the rest of his life. He broke his ankle this week and that has colored everything around his birthday. He did get the phone he wanted, and he got the universal gift that I think teenagers of every generation enjoy - cash. Overall, he's taking it pretty well, much better than what I thought he would. But, that just shows how much he has matured in the last year.

As I watch him to continue to grow and mature, I cannot help but notice small things about him that make me wonder, "Where in the world did that come from?" "Is that like me, or is that like his Dad?" "Or from some other blood relative?"

Well, it's easy enough to ask Alphie about his past. He was surrounded by all of his blood relatives. For me ... Zach is my first blood. I can't help but wonder what from my unknown background may pop out. Not thinking anything sinister, necessarily. (Although I have been told I had true outlaw blood relatives, I think I'm the one more likely to test those waters. Just kidding. Sort of.) No, it's just simple things that I may never know when they rear up. It's a very strange feeling and difficult to describe to those (which means most people) who have no idea what it's like to not know your relatives' history.

But back to Zach's birth. He had great timing. We had just published our bi-weekly magazine, so there was no weekend work ahead of us. We'd worried he might come on deadline weekend, and that would not have been such a great thing, especially for Alphie. But, no, Zach waited, showed his patience even while in womb. It had just turned midnight on the 22nd of October and we were watching a rerun of Law & Order. I was laid out on our 60's wrap around couch like a beached whale, uncomfortable no matter what position I tried.

Suddenly, I felt it. The gush of water that makes you wonder if you just pe'ed all over yourself before you realize that the time has come. The dam broke and the water came flooding, and flooding, and flooding down. Seventeen hours later, our boy had arrived.

As soon as I had fed myself and given myself time to marvel holding my first blood relative in my arms, I called my dad in Texas to let him know his grandson was here and that we had named him Zachary John. John being my dad's first name. A lot hard of hearing, my dad never really liked talking on the phone too much, but this was one phone call he wanted to take without his wife translating for him.

"Daddy, we named him Zachary John."

"Everything's done?" my dad replied, proving he had not understood a word I said.

"Yes, Daddy, everything's done? And it's all good."

"Well good, I'm happy."

Zach is going by John these days, says it makes him feel closer to his grandfather who left this earth four years ago. Zach believes he's still able to talk with his grandfather, particularly in his dreams. I so hope it is true. And as long as we believe, then it shall be.

The older John would be very proud of the younger John. Happy Birthday, Zach ... um I mean John. I love you more than you will probably ever know.

It's safer indoors than out on the road with all those bad drivers

I should be grocery shopping right this moment. I said I'd go just as soon as I put in a load of laundry. Well, the laundry is spinning and I have yet to walk out into the world to go and get some food in this house.

I hate grocery shopping. Again. I hate grocery shopping. I'm sure I'm not alone. I've never heard of anyone jumping up and down with joy, shouting "I love to go grocery shopping." Ok, so there might be some who like it, or think it's not that bad, but I'll bet a nickle that I'm part of the majority on this issue.

However, I push hating this particular chore to ... no, past the limits. I'm still not grocery shopping, am I? Nope, I decided I'd write about it instead. Really, really needed to update my blog so that's what I'm doing. I also don't like the time. It's 5 pm here in Asheville and the rush hour madness will last at least until 5:30. I know. Thirty minutes of rush hour traffic. Big deal. But it's getting worse. Others have learned our secret and are invading, thus creating longer traffic commutes here. Anyways, it's safer indoors than out on the road with all those bad drivers right now.

Ok, so 5:30 it shall be. I swear. Really. Hmmm ... what to do for the next 20 minutes? I know. I'm going to catch up on Twitter. Later, taters. Reminds me. Better put sweet potatoes on the shopping list.

Genius may have it's limitations, but stupidity is not thus handicapped

I've been missing my blogging mojo here recently. But, I'll be back. Sometimes I think we need to stop and just listen to whatever it is the universe is telling us. And, right now, my universe is telling me to slow down a bit, rest up for whatever really big is waiting for me around the corner. I can feel it. I'm going to one walk down the hall one day and run smack dab into something huge I'm supposed to be doing. It's going to take a lot of energy and is going to be incredibly exciting. I'll be rested, ready, willing and able.

As Elbert Hubbard once wrote: "Genius may have its limitations, but stupidity is not thus handicapped. I don't really know why I'm attracted to that quote right now, but there has to be a reason. I choose to think it has to with my "getting ready" mode so that I won't be handicapped with the stupidity mojo. Wish me luck.