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The NAMES Project: Diary Of A Volunteer
The following are journal excerpts of
Pamela J. Cole, who served as a volunteer
during the NAMES Project Quilt Display in
Atlanta over Memorial Day Weekend. The
Quilt ends its 20-city tour in Washington,
DC on October 8&9. There will be over
10,000 panels in the Quilt by that time.
Over 4,000 volunteers are needed for the
Washington, DC display to staff five-hour
shifts. In addition, volunteers are needed to
help set up on Friday, October 7th and to
clean up on Sunday evening, October 9th.
To register as a volunteer, call (800)
USA-NAME and ask for a volunteer
registration package.
we see more videos including the same one I
saw at the benefit The woman sitting next to
me starts to cry. It is obvious that her brother
died very recently. The kid crawls up in her
lap and she holds him tightly. I wish I could
help her.
After the videos we get more information
from Richard Davis, the Volunteer Training
Coordinator. We will see more of Richard
than anyone else.
As I leave the training room, the waiting
room is full of people waiting for the next
training session. I recognize some of them,
stop to chat I am suddenly very excited
about doing this. So is everyone else.
The national tour people are at this session.
They give short informative talks about the
Quilt, what it means, what is going to happen
next. They try to prepare us for the emotions
we will encounter. We are told we are all
"emotional support". I am apprehensive but I
know I have something to offer, I can do this.
That's why I am here.
Sunday, May 29,1988
2:30 p.m.
Where is the World Congress Center
anyway? I know it’s down here somewhere.
What a day to start my period. And all
dressed in white. I have kleenex, tampax,
money, chapstick, volunteer sheets, ink pens,
and aspirin all crammed into my pockets. I
look fat there is so much stuff in my pockets.
But we were told there would be nowhere to
store our stuff, and I don't want to carry a
the love and compassion that the Quilt
represents. The Quilt is an active memorial
created by thousands of caring, nurturing
people. I feel honored to participate.
8:30 p.m.
I am now doing quilt monitor relief. I walk
around and give monitors a chance to sit
down or go to the bathroom. Most monitors
don't want to leave, they just want to talk.
The Quilt is a magnet, we are all very
protective of it This is the flag for our nation
of mourners. A quilt monitor's main job is to
keep people from getting too close to the
panels, walking on them or damaging them.
People just seem to want to get as close as
possible. Grief is expressed in different ways.
Faces look stunned, some people sit, some
people fall out and are helped by grief
counselors. Children look enchanted,
delighting in the shapes and colors and
textures. The children keep it real for me.
10:18 p.m.
I am done. All I can think of is getting off
my feet I wonder why I am not stronger.
Carl says, "Honey, go home." I don't see him
again.
Monday, May 30,1988
I sleep late. I wake up tired. I eat lunch at
Morrison's. I arrive at the World Congress
Center early. There is something I need to do.
1:42 p.m.
I take my tissues and walk the Quilt lam
doing this for me. I have on my glasses. And
it is so beautiful and fragile, like the fabric of
humanity. I cry and sit and walk. I let myself
be there.
3:00 p.m. .
I am reporting for my shift when I see
some friends. Friends who said they were too
busy, friends who said they were going out of
town. They have come to see the Quilt
Today I do Donations. I like this job
because I get to see everyone who visits the
Quilt I stand by the escalator, by the
donation bin, and smile. It's not really
soliciting, it's just drawing attention. It works.
All the money donated goes to help PWAs
in Georgia. The exhibition has been paid for
by other contributions. Every penny donated
today will ease someone's pain. Iam
humbled by the generosity I witness. I try to
look at each person and thank them. I realize
I am thanking them for those who will receive
the benefits. Often, I am moved to tears.
*An old woman watches her daughter make
a donation. The woman has trouble walking,
moving, speaking; she is old, she has white
hair. She watches her daughter and tugs on
her sleeve. "Do you want your purse?" her
daughter asks. The old woman takes her
purse and slowly, painfully, over the course of
several minutes, she opens it and takes out a
battered leather billfold. With fingers too stiff
to bend she opens the billfold, with arms too
tired to raise she cradles the purse. But it is
clear that she wants help from no one. There
are just three bills in the billfold; two ones and
a ten. She deliberately fans through the bills
and pulls out the ten. She leans over and
pushes the crisp ten-dollar bill into the bin.
"Thank you so much," I say. She looks up at
me in surprise as if she hadn't known I was
there. She half-smiles, her blue eyes open
wide. I hear her say, not clearly but surely, "I
wish it was more."
- Pamela J. Cole
Sunday, May 22,1988
3:30 p.m.
Second training session, AID Atlanta. We
are told to wear all white. We are told
Sunday, May 14,1988
4:00 p.m.
For some reason, I attend the "What's in a
Name" benefit for the NAMES
Project/Atlanta at Club Rio. I haven't seen the
Paper Dolls or the Indigo Girls for a while,
and I've never been to Club Rio, so I go. I
have no idea what I'm in for.
At the benefit, I watch a video
documentary of the Inaugural Display of the
"Quilt" at Washington, DC. The Quilt is the
product of the NAMES Project. It is
thousands of quilted panels, each representing
someone who has dies of AIDS. After the
video, I speak to a beautiful female volunteer
at the NAMES Project information table. She
is selling buttons and T-shirts, and she tells
me they need more volunteers. Iam
interested - in her and in volunteering to help
with the Quilt. It will be in Atlanta on
Memorial Day Weekend at the World
Congress Center. She gives me the number to
call at AID Atlanta. "Maybe HI see you," I
say. I have no idea what I'm in for.
Tuesday, May 16,1988
12:12 pan.
I call the AID Atlanta office to ask about
volunteering for the NAMES Project YES,
they still need volunteers. I am told I must
attend two training sessions, one of Friday
and one on Sunday. I decide to do it I'm
beginning to get excited although I still have
no idea what I'm ip for. I think, maybe I'll
meet some nice girls like the first volunteer I
met
Friday, May 20,1988
7:20 p.m.
I've never been to AID Atlanta, but it's
pretty easy to find and there's good parking
right next door. I walk in and pick up a bunch
of volunteer handouts; a Quilt fact sheet, a
sign-up sheet, some xeroxed newspaper
articles, and some other stuff. I sit down near
the front of the room because it looks like
we're going to see another video and I don't
have my glasses. I don't want to miss
anything important
A woman with a small child comes in and
sits next to me. She is very pregnant and I
assume, straight I am surprised. She
recognizes a man sitting across from me and
leans over me to talk to him. Iamaboutto
label her as pushy when I hear her tell the
man, "I guess you didn't know, but my bother
just died from AIDS." Her kid is climbing all
over me, but I'm starting to like him. She
paws through her purse and comes up with a
handful of photographs. Again, she leans
ova me to hand the photos to the man. "This
is a picture of my brother," she says. She
smiles at me and gives me some photos to
look al Her brotha is a very young, smiling
man in the photographs.
The training session starts. Sure enough,
everyone must attend another final training
session at the Georgia Mental Health Institute.
We watch more videos about Quilt
volunteers, Buddies, and the San Francisco
showing of the Quill This is the only time I
have ever seen Lily Tomlin speechless,
absolutely speechless, stuttering even. Good
old Lily. More questions are asked and
answered.
I am very excited. This night, I have
trouble sleeping.
Tuesday, May 24,1988
An article appeared in the newspaper about
the NAMES Project. Richard Davis' picture
appears. Good old Richard. I am proud to be
associated with the project. I wish I could tell
the people I work with, but that would not be
wise. I begin telling all of my friends to
come. I get angry with an ex-lover who says
she has too many parties to attend Memorial
Day Weekend to see the Quill I find I am
disappointed in people who are going out of
town. I try to remember that other people
have a right to their own priorities. It is hard.
The NAMES Project is no longer about
people with AIDS to me; it’s about people
who love.
Friday, May 27,1988
7:00 pan.
I attend the final training session at GMHI.
It is held in a big auditorium. The place is
packed but strangely I don't recognize anyone.
Who are all these people, all these different
people who have come together for this
purpose? Grandmothers, mothers, children,
gays, nurses, yuppies, and PWAs. Thae
seems to be no sector of humanity
unaccounted for.
purse or backpack all day.
I find a place to park near the World
Congress Center. I give $3.00 to the parking
attendant a gigantic man who speaks neo-
English mumble. He wants to know what is
going on at the World Congress Center today.
I tell him it's the NAMES Project.
"Whaazzanaaamesbrojid?" he asks. I don't
know what to say. Suddenly I'm afraid to tell
him what it is. I escape as two other parkers
come up to pay. "See you later," I say with
relief.
It looks like a painters convention inside
the GWCC. Everywhere there are volunteers
dressed in white and wearing a white painter's
cap with the NAMES Project logo on il I
take a quick tour of the Georgia panels which
are exhibited upstairs. The big Quilt is
downstairs. I go sign-in for my volunteer
posl They give me my painter's cap and a
package of tissues. Carl is my captain. lama
quilt monitor.
3:30 p.m.
Carl takes us downstairs to the Quill The
air conditioning is very loud in this big room.
It sounds like the ocean. We walk and walk
and walk and finally reach the part of the
Quilt we must guard. I didn't bring my
glasses so I can't really see it all. But it's big.
It's big.
6:00 p.m.
I’ve been standing in my section for two-
and-a-half hours. The concrete floor is very
hard. I feel like steel rods are being jammed
into my lower back. I see many people that I
know and many that I don't know. They are
solemn, some are crying. I hug them, give
them tissues, and encourage them to focus on