In the plague years of the 80's when AIDS (when it finally had that name) was taking so many people, a friend of ours received the death sentence that it then carried. He moved back to the San Francsico area from Los Angeles, still bright and handsome. He didn't look sick yet but we all knew what was coming. There was an uncomfortable period when none of us knew what to say now that he was back in the neighborhood. Finally our friend Michael called Phil and said "I hear you're dying, that sucks......wanna have a beer?" It was the right line at the right time, breaking the ice and putting many of us back in touch with a guy who did his best to live until he died.

There are no rules, as far as I can tell, except this : Show up.

D