i threw a bunch of kleenex into my bag this morning. i told frank at breakfast that i had a stash just in case he needed some. i wasn't sure if mitchell would, but it turned out that he did too.
right after the island restaurant closed i got a job as a waitress at the "new york city deli" just up the street. i've told you before that it was a crazy time. there was plenty of wild stuff happening beyond corn beef on rye. david weissman and jono weiss were the people i worked with that i liked the best. through the years i'd run into them, sometimes together, usually at the cafe flore. david and jono were best friends, young lovers, and it seemed to me, soul mates. david became a filmmaker, much beloved in san francisco, and jono, an artist... he died of aids in the year 2000...
when the island facebook phenomena happened, i invited david weissman to join the group. he wasn't an islander, but he was pretty close to it. i thought perhaps he could film the reunion...he came to the party as a guest, not a documentarian...he was working on something far more important..."we were here: voices from the aids years in san francisco". and that was what previewed today at the castro theater...
while mitchell waited on line, frank and i walked up and down castro street. we were reminiscing about our friends who died of aids, and how tramatic those days were. we remembered the night his boyfriend died. i was living just over the hill and frank walked over in a kind of altered state. we just kept talking and walking up and down castro street. it was a dark and sad night...and a terrible time in the castro...
and here we were 25 years later, walking the same street together. who would've guessed what would become of our lives. that he'd be happily married and healthy, that i'd be living with his old roommate mitchell, dealing with my own life threatening diagnosis. then we lightened up a bit...it was a sunny, beautiful day, and we were still here, still friends....still everything...
we met our other peeps and sat down in the 1400 seat, sold out theater. david weissman and his editor and collaborator, bill weber, came up and thanked the audience for coming, told us that there would be a question and answer period, and that people could join together at a nearby community center after the film, to share their own stories of being there...
it was a great film...each of the interviewees were amazing in themselves. they made it through the storm and were the true life heroes of the times...if you were around during those days, you would know...it was like a war going on, and the young men were dying all around us, all the time. i saw quite a few pictures of people i knew in the film. without thinking, i would say their name out loud...it seemed like a lot of people did that too. one person in the theater began sobbing pretty loudly, and we all got it...i was glad it was a safe place for him, despite how many people were in the room...
i saw men who reminded me of mo before he died. the thing that made me cry the most was the kindness people showed each other...the shanti hospice worker, the dedicated nurse on the front lines when other people were scared to death to be near the guy with purple marks all over his face and body...there was the artist who went through it all and eventually started "under one roof", the store that raised funds for people with aids, run mostly by volunteers with the disease...he said it was the only time he ever saw a retail situation where the person buying the stuff would truly thank the cashier...
there was the amazing lesbian community. they made posters just like in war, asking for people to donate blood for "our boys"...and they did...they stepped up in a way that we should never forget ...the community took care of each other, and that was incredibly moving...
after the film, the standing ovation lasted way past the credits. i went down to tell david how proud i feel to know him, and what an incredible film it was. he documented history in the most beautiful humane way.
mitchell and i spoke about it on the way home, wondering how it would play to the rest of the country...to people who didn't have any friends or loved ones die of aids...we wondered if you had to be there to really get it...we were there...and just by the grace of something, still, we are here...