Not in my lifetime

It was 1978 when I met the first gay men I would come to know well. In 1983, across a table at a New York City sidewalk café, one of these men told me in hushed tones about the "gay plague." I'd never heard of it before. Neither of us knew then that within ten years it would claim him.

I remember the mysterious darkness that descended over the community at that time, a darkness that has lightened considerably by now but that still hangs overhead. Paralleling it, also lighter today than thirty years ago, is the progress of LGBTQ acceptance by the general populations of many countries, including the U.S.