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Page 13
Celebrating Mother’sDay
CHOICES
They say that I/we made choices:
to love each other,
to live like we do
to give up our families and the duties that go
with having them.
They were all inappropriate,
immoral and/or
immature.
In other words, poor choices.
V * ••'V'••"*.»*«: - **■
Choices. *:«
Choices implies control and control, if nothing
else \ ' '
Is certainly reassuring - certain certainty-
status quo
Control.
I don't have a Pepto Pink bathroom to cry in
anymore.
I've graduated to a town house with more
Modem colors and
A psychologist with tasteful gray tones in her
office.
But cry, I do. Sometimes hard and long.
This fear is much worse than the first because,
Although my mind tells me
I cry because I caused my child(ren) pain
because I have caused them to confront
My heart knows otherwise - it knows the truth
of the pain and ‘ 5
; The truth is this: Like Pogo, 1 have met the
enemy and ; - >
She is Me
Coming Out to Charlie
He was 21, living on the West Coast, suntanned,
handsome, cocky with moments of real communication,
full of waimth and humor, child-like and vulnerable, his
eyes still asking for love. There was and is no question
in my mind that I adore Chadie. I guess Im a typical
mother in that sense. I know what I love in Charlie. I
body. In fact, 1 don't remember the birth as much fun.
Perhaps if I had known something besides being gasset
arid out for the birth I might have fonder memories of
that time. What I love in Chadie is that I have been 1
privi
as T
They say I made a choice to love you.
The only choice I really made was
to take fate into my hands
And kiss you.
Do you remember how it happened?
Sitting on that yellow-flowered sofa,
blanket
Holding hands
Excitement flowing lava-like through our
fingertips
We looked at each other, or rather,
We looked at each other's
Lips.
I remember wondering
Would you scream? but, your look
Gave me permission.
Then, our lips touched. Ever so briefly (that
time)
Soft lips lightly touching
soft lips.
I did have control over that action - and I made
a choice.
Choices.
Control.
Neither of these were operational when
it came to
Falling in love with you.
My heart and mind and body gave me no
options-
It was so suddea
I was so afraid. I truly thought I could
Make a choice.
I told myself,
You're out of control! (A frightening throught
in itself - for me)
I cried, alone in that Pepto Pink bathroom,
begging God
to make me stop feeling this
love I felt for you.
I suppose, in looking back, I could say
that a Higher Being was asking me to
NOTICE.
Notice me for who I am.
The fact was, I had been making
Choices.
I had chosen
to live a lie.
To maintain the status quo at all costs-
Even if it cost me my-self.
For the truth is this: The moment I gave up
control was when
I fell in love with you - my most
honest and totally uncontrolled
Non-choice!
They say I've made a "bad choice" -1 "chose"
to give up
My responsibilities as a mother.
Yes, I probably made a choice.
I think I was in control, but, I can't be sure.
I am sure of one thing - THAT choice was hurt
It hurts to my very core because,
like my love for you, I have no
Control to choose whether I love my childrea
I just do.
And the hurt is one that I create
Deep within myself and it brings
A new Fear.
Foster Mother of HI V-positive
Babies Plans for More
Barbara Chamness, director of the DeKalb County Aits Council, dreams for her two babies.
Annie is nine months old, John is two months old. Her dreams include those typical Mother things
like seeing Annie as a gymnast because she likes to climb and tumble and seeing John as a pianist
because he has long fingers and is such a serious baby. Barbara's two babies are HIV positive,
children of drugs and shared needles and mothers with AIDS. Barbara is the foster mother for
Annie and John. "This disease is calling people to do what we perceived as extraordinary in the
past but which we have to see now as ordinary," Barbara says. "We have to know we will be
okay." W
Barbara became involved with babies with AIDS when she became a member of a group of
volunteers who went to Egleston Hospital to rock a baby because the hospital nurses were too busy
to just sit and hold the child. She applied to become a foster mother with the Department of
Family and Children Services. She went to Grady and held Tammy. Tammy died during the
prison riots at the Federal Correctional Facility and her burial had to be delayed until after the fires
were out Barbara attended the funeral, along with about ten other people, and saw the smoking
scar across the prison as the backdrop for Tammy’s life, a baby in a casket the size of a shoebox.
"Tammy's death haunted me," says Barbara, "because she never was able to go home from the
hospital, she never had a home."
Barbara was approved as a foster mother. Annie came home to live with her. Barbara describes
her "as the most wonderful human being who has ever walked the face of the earth." Then John
came to live with her. John was suffering from heroin withdrawal and required intense care. He
needed to be held all the time. Barbara called in AID Atlanta's practical support team and her
friends to help with John and Annie. She employs a full-time helper. She says people line up to
love these children.
There are 140 HIV-positive babies predicted to be bom at Grady this year. Most of them will
go home with blood relatives. Others will not be so lucky. Barbara is making plans around these
babies. She has put her house on the maiket and is looking for a larger house. She and several
other women are working on a project called the "I Can House, Inc.'', a home where HIV-positive
and other chronically ill children can have a home, a roan of their own outside a hospital facility.
Annie was real sick recently. Barbara tucked her baby, a bade and some diapers under her arm
and took Annie to a clinic. Barbara was the only white woman there and was holding Annie, a tiny
black baby. A black child of about seven or eight let curiosity get the best of him. He eased over
to talk to Barbara. "I want to ask you a question," he said to her. "Where is her Daddy?" Barbara
responded with, "Beats me" and the entire waiting roan laughed. "Annie and I became a part of
the crowd because of that child."
Barbara says she has changed a great deal with the babies. Her own three children by blood
have been supportive. Her friends have helped. Now she works and comes home for quiet time
with her new children. Barbara always had generic caring about AIDS but the babies have made
that caring real and intense. She speaks of caring for them as a "privilege and an honor." Happy
Mother's Day, Barbara. - Rebecca Ranson
a woman. He knew I lived with one but Charlie had
roommates too and the questions were never asked.
In 1985,1 flew to California for the one-year
anniversary and final performance of Celebration
Theater's production of Warren, my play about my
friend who died from AIDS. 1 wanted Oiaiite to share
experiences' ami 1 knew that it was a fairly chicken
approach to coming out to Charlie, butt alsoknow^it
the woman I was living with and I wanted Charlie to
release his anxieties about my not having someone in
my life.
>;#iariie and I were met at the airport by two of the
actors who were absolutely bubbling with curiosity to
know more about the characters they were playing
since for them it was a first to be in a play about real
people's real experience. From the airport we were
going to a meet-the-playwright reception. I was feeling
—: - '• j Charlie was with me, that he could see
led for some of my
my career. At the reception, I
was greeted at the door by the actress playing Rebecca
me a wonderful hug, and asked for all the
1 saw Charlie's face change. This was
not the coming out I had planned but it was clear that
he understood immediately. We were surrounded by
lots of people. Charlie was welcomed by everyone and
I saw the question on many of the men's faces: was
Charlie straight or gay? While I was smiling and
talking to other people, I saw Charlie pull up his social
grace and humor and launch into interaction. Charlie
did not inherit my self-consciousness or else he learned
to cope in a way 1 never have. He was laughing about
being straight, telling his own set of Warren stories,
charming the crowd. I teared up watching him. Then,
he disappeared.
I found him in a bedroom just sitting on the bed.
Apologies about his finding out so abrupdy were
spilling out from me. He shut me up with a lode; my
worst fears soared. I couldn't stand it if Chadie hated
me. He had been my light and energy during years of
his growing up. I thought of Charlie as a little prophet
as a child. He would say these incredible things like,
''it fits to you Mama, but it's too tight around you," or
"it's good to have hanging down things," and I would
go write a poem or a short story or a play based on his
wisdom. I froze. Chadie had tears in his eyes. I
waited. "I should have known," he said. He started
tracing visits home when the information was clear to
someone who was really watching. I realized that his
tears were ones of frustration with himself for not being
more focused on who I was and what was going on
with me. I realized that Charlie didn't care who I loved
as long as I had love. I was ecstatic. I could not have,
hoped for a more fair and appropriate response from
my sol. I had told him for years that I didn't care what
he did with his life as long as he was fair and decent to
other people. Here I was receiving the proof of that
understanding.
About six months later, Charlie moved to Adanta
and moved in with me and my lover. Shortly after that,
his lover, who is now his wife, moved in. For me, it
was wonderful. We were an odd little family but 1 felt
we were family. Before the wedding, my lover and I
gave Charlie and his bride-to-be a shower. Most of
those friends who c?me were from the gay community
and people that Charlie accepted as his friends, too.
The worlds that we lived in didn't seem so far apart.
Now Charlie attends the gay plays SAME produces.
We still do some of those Sunday dinners that Mom
cooks but not very often. Charlie still worries about
my health, my cars that fall apart, my lack of financial
stability, my happiness. I still worry about his driving,
his consumerism, whether I will be a grandmother in a
few years, whether he wishes he had a more traditional
Mother. I feel that we are pretty normal in one sense
and pretty unusual in another. I think despite our
concerns about each other, we look at one another with
interest and pride. I know that I am proud of him,
partly because he is my son but more because I believe
in him as a person and lock forward to seeing what he
does next
Tve never been great at saying all the good things to
Charlie. I tend to criticize more than I praise, agitate
more than I support. Hie opportunity to express some
of my love for him and some of his importance to me is
my reverse Mother's Day present to him.
- Rebecca Ranson