From:  (Craig Webb)
Newsgroups: ba.motss
Subject: AIDS Quilt
Date: 7 Oct 92 21:37:41 GMT
Followup-To: ba.motss
Organization: Apple Computer, Inc.

>From the Merc; Commentary by Deb Price


Billy's Mom.  That's what other volunteers at the NAMES Project
office in Washington, DC, call LaVerne Yost.  A year into her
grief over her youngest son's death of AIDS, she now helps
others create memorial quilt panels for their lost loved ones.
"We teach them to thread the needle, tie a knot," Yost says with
a laugh of the sewing disasters who wander into this bustling workshop.
Colorful spools of thread, yardsticks and scissors cover the
walls.  Donated sewing machines wait to link panel to panel.
And Yost and other quilt maestros buzz about helping those 
who still aren't quite certain they can start a tribute when the
grief feels so new.
"After they've picked the fabric they've decided what kind of
letters they want," you can see the relief in their faces, Yost says.
I remember one fellow who had been so torn up.  He was
cutting out his letters like he was in kindergarten, and he
started humming.  That was one of my nicest moments,"she adds.

Each panel tells the story not just of a death, but of an
irreplaceable life - one of the 1 million already claimed
by this global plaque.

Friday through Sunday, the AIDS Memorial Quilt will blanket
15 acres around the Washington Monument.  Within sight of
the White House, more than 20,000 grave sized panels will
bear testimony to the 152,000 US residents who have died
as presidents Reagan and Bush looked the other way.

It is not too late to make a panel for this massive display.
A special section will be reserved for late arrivals.
Figure out a design that includes your loved one's name.
You may want to include dates of birth and death as well
as a hometown.
Choose a durable material, such as cotton, for the background.
The final panel must be 3 X 6 feet, so leave a few extra inches
for the hem.
Try to capture your loved one's personality, perhaps by 
attaching a favorite object: a teddy bear, a feather boa, a
merit badge, a wedding ring.
Write a brief letter about the person and take it and the quilt
panel to the Washington Monument grounds.

William N. Rosenthal - "Our Billy" as the quilt panel reads -
was a flight attendant based in Denver who prided himself
on getting a private pilot's license.  He also loved being gay
and was "very good looking and knew it," recalls his mother.

He died at 9:31 PM on June 19, 1991.  He was 30 years old.

Billy had visited the quilt once.  "He thought it was such a
wonderful way to express memories of people," Yost says.

"I think he knew his mother would do that for him."

When other survivors - friends, lovers, sisters - have come to
the workshop, Yost has shown them "Billy", as she refers to
her panel.
Its colors are blue and khaki, like the preppy clothes his
brothers remember Billy wearing.  His aunt added a 
needlepoint of the West Virginia cabin where he loved to
stargaze.  On the bottom right is a pocket closed tight
around letters from family and friends.

In sewing a quilt panel, Yost says, "You work through a lot
of emotions, but it's a peaceful thing."
But now she has had to part with the Billy panel.
"It was another saying good-bye, of letting go," she says.
"And then seeing it stitched with seven other panels and
realizing, yes he is dead, because those other seven people
are dead."
Like other quilts, the AIDS Quilt is an artwork to be handed
down to future generations.  Everyone who snips a thread
for it helps piece together a legacy of grief turned into action,
of love that confronts bigotry, of respect for our common humanity.

If Billy were the only AIDS casualty, it would be one death
too many.  When you see the quilt - or pictures of it - 
remember his name.  Remembering is the least the rest of 
us can do.

If your interested:  For Details about the AIDS Quilt
		                   (202) 29N-AMES

\aliscafo/