2004-12-01, 11:06 a.m.

Today is World AIDS Day.

How to start this? About 12 years ago, someone who made a huge impact in my life died of aids. His name was Fred. And it really bugs me that I can't remember his last name.

Fred was a Resource Person - kind of like a camp counselor - for the junior high group at NEYM (New England Yearly Meeting, the annual week-long summer gathering of NE Quakers) when I was a kid. He was sweet and gentle and funny and funky and cool. He had a beautiful singing voice. And he was gay.

Fred was one of the first people in my life to show me why I could have confidence in myself. During the first Yearly Meeting in which I knew Fred, he and Judy (another RP) recognized that we junior high kids were self-segregating ourselves into social hierarchy groups. As I look back, they must have studied us and planned carefully how to intervene, but at the time they made it all seem so easy and natural, and we had no idea that we were being manipulated into taking huge steps beyond our spheres of social comfort.

My group of friends consisted of all the misfits - not cool at all. Pretty dorky even. The afternoons, when we had free time, was when the self-segregation started. Fred and Judy must have seen this, because they asked if they could hang out with us. We were, of course, in awe of them - they were in their 20's, and they were really, really cool.

They set out to win our trust. They introduced us to all the games the high school group played - A Big Wind Blows, and Winkum, along with others I can barely remember now. We had a great time, so much so that we forgot to feel dorky and uncomfortable. Then after a few days, when we really trusted him, Fred asked us if we'd be interested in going on an overnight with the rest of the junior high group. In retrospect, I'm sure it had all been arranged with our parents ahead of time, but at the time the idea was a total surprise, and I felt like we'd been asked if we wanted to jump off a cliff - spend social time, overnight, with the cooler kids? Could anything possibly be more dangerous? I remember feeling really, really anxious - this wasn't safe at all. But Fred seemed to think we were worth spending time with, so maybe the cool kids would be nice to us, too. At least, with Fred and Judy along they wouldn�t be outright mean to us. And so we did it. And much to everyone's surprise, we all had a great time.

It's hard to explain just how Fred's goodwill, and attention to us each as valuable individuals, created such an environment of safety and support that it stayed with me through high school and beyond. With this simple act, Fred set the whole group of us up to respect and trust each other. Those were the elements of compassion which helped us - and the kids who joined our high school group in the following years - to create for a safe and supportive environment for ourselves, one which went a long way towards helping me - and most of us - survive the horrific ups and downs of high school.

Seven years later, in the spring of my junior year at Oberlin, I received a phone call at the off campus house I shared with friends. Fred had aids, and he was dying. I hadn't thought much about Fred in years, just took for granted the impact he had made in my life, and assumed that he would always be there.

But Fred died on April 21st, 1994. And of course I couldn't make it to his memorial service - my own life was too hectic, and as a typical college student, I was completely wrapped up in my own problems. No one blamed me for not making the trip. But the adult I have become knows that I should have been there.

I have an old audio tape of by The Free Grace Undying Love Full Gospel Quaker Choir Sing and be Saved - the product of a group of Friends/friends from Beacon Hill Friends Meeting, in Boston. The album is titled Grace in Your Face, and Fred is, of course, one of the members. In fact, Fred and Judy did most of the arrangements, and the music reflects them - spiritual, fun, goofy, cool, and beautiful. It has a tendency to make me cry. But I'm not certain where the tape is now - I hope it's at my parents' farm in Vermont, with most of my studio stuff - I used to listen to it while I worked. I have to try to find it when I'm up there this weekend, and listen again, in honor of Fred:

"Some of us think Jesus Christ is di-vine--

Others take a universalistic line;

But though we disagree,

on theology,

Still we sing, sing, sing and be saved."

Oh yeah, I remember now. Fred's full name was Fredric Evans. Thank you, Fred.