Several days before we left to meet our son in New Orleans for his spring break, I was ribbed a little for wearing my AIDS Walk wind breaker. My partner that night informed someone we ran into that “…she always wears that jacket. I don’t think she owns another coat.” I saw no reason to defend myself, and I smiled.
I love this jacket. For many reasons. One: It was a gift over ten years ago for meeting a goal in fundraising. Two: It is lightweight and perfect for travel. Three: I can wear it in the winter easily. Four: It reminds me every time I look down at the logo that AIDS Walk knows no season for me. HIV/AIDS doesn’t quit. It is a 24/7 disease.
So you can imagine my terror when I found a hole on the seam under my left arm. I was crossing my arms on the bus back from a plantation home. I was trying to get my right shoulder in a comfortable position so that my son could fall asleep on it. He might have moved out of the house almost two years ago, but a mother NEVER forgets the pain of a limb arranged stupidly for a child’s nap!
I shudder to say that small tears appeared in my eyes as I looked out at the sugar cane fields. Between the sleeping man to my right and a hole in my favorite piece of clothing of all time, I was emotional. I swore then and there that the jacket could be repaired. I was willing it to be so because of the conversation I had been a part of in a coffee shop seven hours before that.
When we entered the coffee shop not even half a block off Jackson Square, I was aware of the man at the large table near the window going through his box of belongings and attending to some morning grooming. He neither bothered me nor alarmed me. I merely took him in to my memory.
When the drinks and morning noshes were ready, we perched on chairs at a long bar very near the gentleman. This surface was covered edge to edge with tourist brochures and postcards. It was cold that morning – in the 40s – and we never took off our coats while eating, talking, and laughing. As we were getting comfortable, the gentleman, whose name I never asked, said, “Let me guess where you guys are from.” We turned to him, as our backs were toward him, and he said, “California.”
He admitted, after we told him we were from Missouri – and Kansas City specifically – that Dakota’s hair made him think California. He admitted to being “from here now,” and we moved back to our own conversation at the bar after a few more niceties.
I was in the chair closest to him. He did not need to tell me, though he did later, that he was homeless. When I was much younger, I spent time working with the homeless, and you never forget certain aspects of that existence. When I made a move to get something in my handbag, I had to stand up from my chair to finish the task.
That’s when he saw the logo on my jacket. His eyes, which had been sleepier and blearier in our first conversation, became laser-focused on mine as he looked up from my coat after a long moment.
“What do you know about AIDS?”
“I know I have spent every year since this young man was born raising money and awareness for it in Kansas City.”
He was silent as he continued to stare at me. Deeply and for almost a full minute. He was taking me all in. I never broke his gaze.
“Thank you. I am positive and homeless. Thank you for caring.”
“Of course.”
“I am an actor here and I work every day. I moved here a long time ago.”
“I can see why. It is lovely.”
“People like you make it nicer…the whole world nicer, really.”
And the conversation petered out. He had things to finish, personal things, and a banana to consume. We left before him, and he wished us a terrific day. We said the same to him. And I took a moment to look at him one last time through the slightly grimy window in the very old door. I turned and caught up with my family and went about my day.
We saw him again that day in Jackson Square, after the bus had brought us back eight hours later from a tour. He was painted entirely gold and posing for pictures with tourists. We saw him the next day in the same metallic finish posed on the sidewalk as if he was napping, which he was not.
When I told my husband and son the story that next morning, I could not control my tears. I have been thanked for doing what I’ve promised to do for organizations that need my help. I have been thanked for serving on committees and boards and councils. But I have never, until then, been thanked by a stranger for caring about AIDS. His few short words told me all I need to know.
…that I need to keep that jacket in good condition and never stop until HIV/AIDS does.
p.s. My jacket caused several people to stop and talk to me about AIDS and their lives while in The Big Easy. It was my own awareness campaign while on vacation, and it was amazing.
p.s.s. Below you can see my jacket in action at AIDS Walk Kansas City last year. Or maybe the year before. It’s all a wonderful blur full of wonderful people.
SHARE THIS: 
I am repeatedly stunned by your dedication to humanitarian causes. You have been tireless in giving of yourself to make a difference. Thank you for boosting my enthusiasm as we get nearer “showtime” for the AIDSWALK MOSAIC event.
Lori:
You say such nice things. Thank you.
How wonderful that we are all in this together! When one of us has AIDS, we all have AIDS. When one of us has cancer, we all have cancer. And so it goes.
I love working on making a difference for those with HIV/AIDS in Kansas City with you. And making that difference with art is the true gift.
xoxox
– sloane
I love this memory, I love this story, I love you!
Sandy:
We are all in this together and I take great pride in being on this ride with you!
I love you, too!
-sloane
p.s. Thank you for reading our blogs and for taking time away from your life to send a note.
thank you for sharing this powerful moment. xo, rachelle
Rachelle:
You used the perfect word. Powerful. It was just that and changed me forever.
Thanks, again, for reading our blogs and taking time to send a note. It means alot.
xoxo
– sloane
Sloane,
You made me cry! And that’s okay, we all need to get teary over things we feel passionate about.
Jan
Jan:
When we cry, it all sinks in! My passion runs pretty darn deep when it comes to HIV/AIDS…
Thank you for reading our blogs and sending such a nice note.
– sloane
You’re amazing.. my daughter Bridget’s partner, Kristin runs a huge HIV/AIDS clinic.. Howard Brown in Chicago… so proud of her and you for keeping this important issue front and center…. Blessings , Peggy
Peggy:
Howard Brown is an amazing place! I occasionally read about it when I read updates from the Centers for Disease Control on infectious diseases.
You are kind to “lump” me in with your amazing family. I am one lucky person to be included in such a terrific group.
xoxo
– sloane
p.s. Thanks for reading our blogs and finding time to send a note!
Wow! What a beautifully told story! Cue the sniffling & watery eyes. It’s stories like these that makes one stop in her tracks & realize how blessed one is. Thank you for your tireless rallying & volunteering for so many causes! Finally thank you for sharing your story. XO!
Anne:
Your words are very kind. I am not alone in wanting a better world … I have seen you right there beside me!
Perfect word, blessed. That we are.
xoxox
– sloane
Sloane,
I’m so glad that you wrote this beautiful story. You are so very talented and you DO make the whole world nicer. I second Sandy’s emotions: I love this story, I love you. Thank you for sharing your life with us.
xoxox-
April
April:
That Sandy is pretty darn sweet! But then again, so are you!
Your words are very kind and I thank you again and again for taking time to read what I write and then writing a note yourself.
I am lucky to have you as a friend.
– sloane
Sloane–
Wonderful story! And just in case your precious/amazing jacket hasn’t been fixed yet, I’d be glad to do it.
WAM
Wendy:
My mom has it in her care. She gasped when she saw the hole and I hadn’t even written the story yet!
Mothers know….
– sloane
p.s. Thank you for reading our blogs and for taking time to write me a note.
Oh, my! I was in New Orleans two weeks ago, and stood where you are standing. I remember the gentleman painted gold from head to toe. I was afraid that one spark could set him on fire. Thanks for all your help in aids.
Nancy:
I can’t imagine washing gold paint off of my body and being homeless!
I was deeply touched by his comment, “I am an actor here and I work every day.” Your comment proves that! But let’s be honest, I was deeply touched by my time with him. He has helped me to re-double my efforts on the event I am currently working on for AIDS Walk, the MOSAIC Project. Our art opening is April 4th in the Crossroads.
Thank you for reading our blogs and, more importantly, for taking time to write a note.
Be well.
– sloane
As a family member who lost a much much loved one to this plague, thank you for continuing your commitment to this fight. Many have moved on to other issues but this one is still very important. Bless you
Janel:
I dream of a world without AIDS. I doubt I am alone. I work all year on projects – big and small – to change life here in Kansas City for those with HIV/AIDS. I hope you can join us at the 29th Annual AIDS Walk on April 29th in Theis Park. It is always a wonderful day.
I am sorry to hear of your loss, no matter when it was. Pain is pain. It might dull, but it never leaves.
Thank you for reading our blogs and taking a minute to shoot off a quick note. I am always touched when one lands in the “inbox”.
– sloane
That hair! I feel like the silly one commenting on the least important part of your story. But that HAIR!
Monica:
To say I am jealous of that hair is the understatement of the century!
xoxox
– sloane