Why I’m happy living with AIDS

If I weren’t living with AIDS, I would have missed the last twenty-five years, from the fall of the Soviet Union to the birth of all my nieces and nephews, to the Internet age and the iPhone.

If I weren’t living with AIDS, I wouldn’t be alive to witness the first black president in action, or write the Obama Files.

If I weren’t living with AIDS, I wouldn’t be the proud papa of a dog named Boomer, who teaches me, When in Doubt, Pet the Dog.

If I weren’t living with AIDS, I wouldn’t be here to say, Dear Magic Johnson, Thanks for Saving My Life.

If I weren’t living with AIDS, I wouldn’t the author of four novels, nominated for five Lambda Literary Awards, or the author or HIV-P.OV., a blog column, now and forever at Randy Boyd’s Blocks.

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