I ran into my old friend Dale in the shower at the Koret pool last week. He swims with the Masters (and, a few days before, had made another ride for AIDS to L.A.). (I swim after the Masters finish, to get to the other side.)
We’d met in 1978, standing next to each other in the Bach Society Choir— we were both teaching at local private high schools.
I published his account of having infected his wife, who in due course died of AIDS.
Since he now spends much of his time up at Sea Ranch, I suggested we have lunch that day. We did, at the new Piccino, in Dogpatch, which was delish.
As I gave him a ride home, we stopped by the new Potrero Hill library: from its upstairs gallery, a long view.
