I do not recall ever seeing that photo of us in the rainbow shirts. Was I ever that skinny? Why don't I have a copy of that photo? Did no one ever show it to me or let me ask for a copy?
Still, such sad photos. There are so many friends who died far too early.
I'm sorry about your friends 
Between 1984 and 1995, during the greatest part of the AIDS crisis, I lost far too many friends of both sexes in the Chorus, the theatre, the music world, and my personal ilife. Once the madness, the rumors, the horror, the hospitalizations and the deaths began, it was a daily nightmare: trips to hospitals, trips to apartments, countless and it now seems endless memorial services for friends and friends of friends, dealing with the politics of a recalcitrant administration, making a quilt, marching on Washington. My first casualty was a brilliant theatre director Stuart White, then his partner Clifford, then Bill Tynes, producer of the New Amsterdam Theatre Company, my music copyist Fred, the Chelsea Music printer Joe Cantlin, the Chelsea Music printer Larry Taylor. You'd go to visit Larry Taylor in hospital and fight with Marcia Lewis and Liz Minnelli to get into his room to visit. Then Howie Phillips, a friend of DR Ginny's and mine, then my friend Rick Snelling whose brother and sister-in-law were my parents' neighbors in Ohio, people I did shows with at Cohoes Music Hall and other places.
The Men's Chorus was decimated. I don't go to their concerts any more but when I did and I would read the casualty list in the back of the program, all I could think of was how many I still remembered and missed and how many I'd sadly forgotten. And there are others who've simply vanished. Where are they now? Alive? Who knows? They all died so young with so much to give and so much to look forward to.
And those of us who survived must never let the story die. And people wonder why I rage and why i'm angry.
