THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, August 10, 1995 TAG: 9508080075
SECTION: NORFOLK COMPASS PAGE: 02 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: IN PASSING
SOURCE: JOAN STANUS
LENGTH: Medium: 75 lines
From the moment we met him, this friendly 6-year-old boy with a shy grin and freckled face captured our hearts.
He was already in the water, splashing, squealing and gleefully mastering dives when we arrived at a Fourth of July pool party.
He was the only other kid there, and just about the same age as my two. The three immediately became fast friends.
As I watched them, playing with their squirt guns and taking turns holding their heads underwater, I couldn't help but think how simple and carefree their lives were.
But that wasn't the case for our new friend.
Later, I found out that this young boy had recently lost his mother to AIDS. Left with only an 18-year-old brother, one of the mother's male friends - himself disabled with back problems - had volunteered to adopt the two boys.
Our new friend did not have AIDS, our hostess assured us.
But a few weeks later, we found out differently, when we were again invited to another pool party. It was no big secret, only a misunderstanding. This young boy - so sweet, so fun-loving, so innocent - did have AIDS. He'd been infected at birth.
Devastated by the news, our hostess called the afternoon before the party to tell us. She said she felt it was our right to know, that we should make the decision whether we wanted our children to be around him or not.
``I had a choice,'' she said, obviously upset. ``I could have called and asked him not to come, or I could have told my guests and let them make their own decisions. I couldn't bear to uninvite him.''
At first, I was heartsick at the prognosis for this child, who'd won the friendship of my whole family. How could such a bright child with such promise have no hope of a future? It seemed so cruel.
But after the first shock, something took hold of my insides that truly frightened me. It was an ugly, irrational fear for the safety of my children. ``Oh, God,'' I thought. ``They've touched him.''
For the first time, I had come face-to-face with AIDS, and I didn't like what it was doing to me.
I like to think I'm an informed, fairly intelligent person. For years, I've followed the spread of this horrible disease through television reports, newspaper accounts and books, and my heart has ached for the hundreds of thousands of people who have had to deal with the devastating illness, ignorance and hysteria that accompanies AIDS.
Fortunately, my friends, family and acquaintances have managed to elude this disease. I count it as one of my blessings, because I realize it's only by pure luck that we've been spared its ravages.
Until we'd met this child, I'd never - knowingly - met anyone who was either HIV-infected or had AIDS.
Rationally, I knew there was just no way we'd become infected by hanging out at a pool party with him. But something irrational was trying to tell me to stay away.
I couldn't let this fear win. I told the hostess that of course we'd be there. But that night, I wrangled with this demon fear, imagining all sorts of possible threats. In the end, I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I succumbed to something so irrational, so wrong.
At the party the next day, my kids ran to greet their friend, begging him to hurry and get in the pool with them. Within minutes, they were bumping up against each other, playing tag and having a great time.
I honestly never forgot about the horror that lurked in this child's body. But that irrational fear of being around him vanished as I watched him play and enjoy these carefree moments.
Instead, when he snuggled up against me on the picnic table bench with a plate piled high with hot dogs, potato chips and other favorite kid food, I found myself instinctively giving him a hug. When I did, he flashed me a shy smile so full of warmth, it nearly broke my heart.
That's when I realized: The face of AIDS was just another lovable kid. by CNB