As my part of AIDS awareness month, I'd like to share with you my sister Lisa's story. In 1985, at age 19, she met a charming guy and they became involved. This was Lisa's second intimate relationship. In 1988, after first having mononucleosis and then contracting Hepatitis B, her doctor decided to check her for the HIV virus, the virus that causes AIDS. Much to her disbelief and horror, the tests came back positive. After a series of tests over the next year, it was confirmed that she was infected. Following the diagnosis, she suffered a deep depression and battled alcoholism and constant thoughts of suicide. But she survived and fought back to regain control of her life.

This year, Lisa turned 30. This is an age she thought she'd never lived to see, because when she was diagnosed, the maximum life expectancy was 10 years. She has lost jobs and friends to this disease, but she will never lose her family. We will always be there for her.

My mother was recently talking to a co-worker about her shoes with red ribbons on them. She was explaining how the red ribbon is a symbol for AIDS awareness. They were interrupted by another co-worker who said that AIDS was just a big hoax. He said it really wasn't an epidemic, that they were just saying that to scare everyone into finding a cure. Imagine how my mother felt at the ramblings of this callous man. Imagine how uncomfortable he felt when she told him about her daughter.

Not long ago, I had a conversation with a guy whose girlfriend wasn't always faithful. When asked if he was worried about catching AIDS, his response was that we all have to die sometime. Let me tell you that the hard part isn't dying from AIDS, it's living with AIDS. Imagine going to your mother's house and finding her hurt and bleeding and then having to check yourself for cuts and sores before you can help her. Imagine feeling like your blood is poison. Imagine never being able to be totally honest with people for fear of losing your job and friends. Imagine knowing the person who gave you this disease is dead.

We have seen it on TV, but there it doesn't seem real, it's just a good movie. But it is real and my sister lives with it every day. HIV cannot be passed by casual contact. It cannot be passed by shaking hands, hugging, or toilet seats. It is a very scary disease, but do not let fear and ignorance rule you. There are many people out there like my sister. Many people are afraid to let people too close for fear of rejection. These people need our love and support. A cure must be found, and found soon before more lives are lost.

This past weekend, October 11-13, Lisa and the rest of my family traveled to Washington D.C., to view what may be the last time the AIDS quilt is displayed in its entirety. The problem is it is simply getting too large. When it was started in 1987, it consisted of 1200 panels, but now it has grown to over 44,000 panels and is expected to reach over 80,000 panels in the next 5 years. Each panel is 3' x 6' symbolizing a grave. Each panel showed us by word, picture and object a little bit about the person on the panel. The quilt was displayed on the grassy mall between the Capitol and the Washington Monument, covering 24 acres or 22 football fields. The panels represent only 12% of the people who have died from AIDS in the U.S. It was truly overwhelming.

Saturday evening, we participated in a candlelight march from the Capitol to the Lincoln Memorial. As we walked, all we could see in front and behind us was a sea of flickering candles. As the candles glowed with hope and in honor of loved ones lost, they illuminated a small cluster of people holding ugly signs that said "God created AIDS to kill gay people" and other such signs. I was shocked that people could be so cruel and ignorant. What about the millions of women and children that are infected with the virus. This is not simply a gay man's disease. The danger is real and affects us all.

Remember the next time you see a red ribbon, it could represent your son, your daughter, your brother, or your sister. And if it is, embrace them and tell them that you love them and will always be there for them. Because until there is a cure, these are the few things we can offer them. Love. Acceptance. Hope.

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