tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14731145.post6011019610916834730..comments2023-07-26T08:12:40.144-04:00Comments on Flatbush Gardener: David Joseph Wilcox, 1957-1996Chris Kreussling (Flatbush Gardener)http://www.blogger.com/profile/08467595231097695124noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14731145.post-33995033536658805562011-01-21T23:11:12.062-05:002011-01-21T23:11:12.062-05:00Ah, it all makes sense now. It is incredible to me...Ah, it all makes sense now. It is incredible to me how far we've come as a society... and how far we haven't come. When I was 11, my family went on a vacation to CA. In San Fran, a few gay couples were walking hand in hand. My parents were kinda freaked and I was like "so what?" They thought I didn't understand what it meant. But I did; it meant they were in love like any couple, strolling, holding hands. I just couldn't see why anyone would care. I still don't. I'm sorry for your loss, happy for your gain, and sympathetic about everything in between.Monica the Garden Faeriehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06369882350990949968noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14731145.post-84013684433857892052008-01-26T11:21:00.000-05:002008-01-26T11:21:00.000-05:00Those days already seem so far away and unreal,whe...Those days already seem so far away and unreal,when we seemed to lose a neighbor, an artist, a dancer, a friend every few months or more...I worked for a clinical lab journal and interviewed Rick, a young man from North Carolina, who told me that the hospital staff in New York would leave his tray at the door of his room, on the floor, and flee. A cheerful, wry, beautiful fellow, he allowed himself to be photographed undergoing a blood draw, to help quell the panic among phlebotomists who refused to do the job. After his death, I sent the picture to his father, who found my business card among his effects and was trying to piece his son's life together. I composed a cover letter in the style of the military, "a grateful nation salutes his sacrifice," in the hopes it would give him some comfort. I wonder if anyone is left now to remember Rick...with as much power and tenderness as you remember and honor David. What remains is the good we do, I believe; and being a believer, I call it God's DNA. It's the goodness, not the evil, that is imperishable, because it remains in us. Thanks for letting us share the gift that Dave's life was to you.<BR/>--Brenda from FlatbushAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14731145.post-19277983059738418182008-01-24T22:36:00.000-05:002008-01-24T22:36:00.000-05:00Those were the days. Bittersweet memories. We are ...Those were the days. Bittersweet memories. We are the survivors. We are the historians. Memory serving.Frank Jumphttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01280749757286901412noreply@blogger.com