The Comfort and Activism of a Quilt

Some Sunday mornings are destined to be far more than pancakes and juice, lazing with the morning newspaper, or catching up on that show you’ve heard so much about.

I figured going to see the AIDS Memorial Quilt headquarters (in San Leandro) would be both educational and meaningful. But I had no idea how heartfelt and wonderfully emotional it would be.

Congregation Sha’ar Zahav’s Social Action Committee arranged the visit. I jumped at the chance to view the quilt up close and personal, particularly as we were able to request to view specific panels in advance.

Friends Deborah and Gabe carpooled with me from San Francisco. Gabe shared the story of the creation of the panel for his late partner, Gerard Michael Chevalaz. He talked about their wide circle of loving family, friends, and pets. Gabe’s sister designed a Tree of Life motif, allowing space on Gerard’s panel for the names of loved ones to be together forever with him. At the warehouse we wept at the loss, albeit from years ago, of this wonderful man. During my visit I learned of synchronicities, which not only helped create the Quilt/Names Project, but also have helped support it over these 36 years.

Walking into the warehouse, we were greeted by Bear and Sasha, two adorable dogs. Their wagging tails warmed me on a chilly morn. Their presence was a precursor to how one Project donor recognized the warehouse as a holy site: think of what dog spells backwards.

Prior to my visit, I had never heard the story of how the quilt, officially called the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt, came to be. John Cunningham, CEO, explained that AIDS activist Cleve Jones realized as deaths to AIDS-related causes increased, loved ones’ names were being overlooked and were at risk of being forgotten.

So, in 1985, prior to San Francisco’s annual candlelight march in memory of Harvey Milk and George Moscone, Jones encouraged folks to write friends’, family members’ and lovers’ names on simple signs. At the conclusion of the march, those signs were spontaneously taped to the side of the old Federal Building, creating what to Jones resembled a patchwork quilt. The NAMES Project idea was born, and subsequently officially started in 1987. One early volunteer,

Gert McMullin, remains on staff to this day, and has been referred to as the Mother Teresa of this blessed endeavor.

McMullin spent hours with our group, sharing stories, anecdotes, and decades worth of memories.

McMullin refers to “her boys,” since the vast majority of those lost to AIDS were men. The heartfelt way she spoke was so intimate, I felt I was in a sacred site with a guardian angel. The pieces of fabric, and the lives they represent, were brought to life through McMullin’s expression of love and care.

As the group unfolded panels of our loved ones, many relayed stories, often over choked up tears, of friends and lovers we had lost. It was an honor for me to speak about my college dorm friend Mark Scheffel. (See the Bay Times “Coming Out” story on page 28 of the June 25, 2020, Pride edition at https://tinyurl.com/jswm7ver ) It was an honor and pleasure that morning to hear others recall memories of their friends ... some memories having not been brought to consciousness in decades.

By Howard M. Steiermann

The Quilt is a homegrown and handmade stunning work of comfort to those who crafted each and every panel, as well as for millions who have seen it on display. And, it is far more than that. It is a symbol, a huge nearly 50,000 panel strong symbol, of memories, hope, and activism. Groups of panels (called “12 by 12s,” as they are twelve feet wide by twelve feet high) are exhibited throughout the U.S. This is done to help teach/ remind people not only about HIV and AIDS, but also about racial and economic disparities in health care. And, to share the importance of self-care, since putting an end to HIV transmission requires individual practices as well as community support.

A friend on the excursion emailed later that day, it “was all incredibly moving and a part of healing for me ... . This has been one of the fullest days of my wonderfully full life.” May all our loved ones’ memories be for a blessing. And, hopefully on a