What would you like to know about St. Joan of Arc? Do you have a story about our parish or of general interest that you think others would like to hear? For story ideas, contact Jeff Rholl, jeff@stjoan.com.
"Let us build this place out of truth and Grace" | Prologue: This is the sixth in a series of stories about the people of Grace House.
They are the residents and staff, the volunteers and occasional drop-ins --
the people who fill the house with grace. These are first and foremost,
though, the stories of the residents: Stories of the men and women who live
daily with HIV/AIDS and are triumphant; stories of their lives and how they
came to Grace House; stories of the difference the houses and the staff have
meant in terms of health, dignity and joy.
The original Grace House was opened in 1990, the brainchild of an AIDS
taskforce through Saint Joan of Arc Church. The church agreed to lease the
building to Grace House for a nominal sum. Church parishioners provided lots
of the physical labor to turn the home into a facility to serve the
particular needs of people with AIDS. These volunteers renovated the space,
painted rooms and made the home accessible, including installing an elevator.
In these early years, all of the caregiving was provided by volunteers from
the church. By the next year, the need for professional, hired staff was
apparent and the first paid caregivers were hired. Volunteers continued to
be a big part of providing care to the residents.
What I have always found in the houses is laughter. The residents, as
physically comfortable as their disease allows them to be, live in their own
apartments with dear and familiar things around them. They meet in community
for meals with other residents, with volunteers and caregivers. There is a
sense of family, of people who care very much for the well being of each
other.
It is these people of Grace House, open and willing to talk to me, I want to
learn more about and then tell their stories to you. Nelson Mandela says
these stories must not be lost. Sometimes they are little stories of little
lives. Sometimes they seem painted by a bold brush with vivid colors and raw
design. They are stories, like all of ours, a mixture of foolish and heroic;
stories too of painful loss and astonishing gain, because these are the
stories of survivors. These are not just the stories of the residents,
although theirs are the first to be told, but of all of the people who care
for them; all of the people who take a step away from their everyday lives,
to take the risk of caring and staying steady in the face of pain and loss.
People who receive in abundance the gifts of sharing and the magic of
laughter and life.
This then is the sixth of the stories of grace from Grace House.
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He tells me about a song 'the old maestro' Ted Lewis sang years ago. He'd walk across the stage in a tuxedo and top hat, swinging a cane as the backlighting threw a giant shadow on the screen behind him. Tom Johnson says this song tells his story.
It's hard to believe he is this solitary man described in those words because
he is so present in his world. He doesn't so much walk into a room, as he
bounds in- full of zing and vigor. He sparkles and shines, lights up the
space with his tall, tanned, blonde good looks and dazzling white smile. He
connects in a direct and caring way with people. He is alert to every
adventure. The day we met he had just returned from a week long camp for
HIV/AIDS people and he'd canoed and played sports and gulped up every
activity there was to be had.
Yet he describes himself as a loner. He says he always has been since he was
a kid; a loner who lived most of his life with deep depression as his daily
companion. He didn't know for years what it was, that darkness that he
battled. This is his story -- one of the stories of hard won victory that
are our Stories of Grace.
He dresses like a North Oaks kind of guy but he laughs and says it's his
malady to bear. He can pick out the most expensive item in any store window
or showcase. Actually, he comes from a fine, close nice family in Brooklyn
Center and is one of a family of nine. He "was born close to the end of the
family, so there were few siblings close to me in age." That was okay
because he preferred being alone. He says he "mostly entertained myself" in
grade and high school. He read a lot. In fact, he and a girl friend used to
skip school to go to the library and spend the day reading. They would go to
"any section of the library and read”, sometimes aloud to each other, and
they would tell each other stories. The teachers knew of his activity and
seemed to understand his hunger for information and his independent learning
style.
Tom says he always knew he was gay and as soon as he graduated from high school, he left home, and began his new life among friends in the gay community. Even with the debilitating effects of undiagnosed depression and an increasing dependence on alcohol, he lived a full life. He got a degree in electronics from Brown Institute, took a sojourn to Los Angeles where he thrived on the "high energy" of the people. He spent a lot of time going to the ocean, went scuba diving, hiking in Yosemite. He says, "I love that stuff!" He went into Property Management for a number of years and then found a job he loved as a Health Unit Coordinator at Hennepin County Medical Center. But he was always restless, searching for something new.
Life wasn't an easy climb. He entered treatment programs, one after another
over a period of years. The journey finally took him to Bill Kelly House, a
long-term treatment center for mental illness and chemical dependency.
He says that from 1985 on, he was watching his friends die, one by one, as the AIDS epidemic moved through the community. He felt helpless and betrayed by a government that did nothing to acknowledge or fight this disease that was paralyzing his community and killing people he cared about.
Tom was also battling a hepatitis B infection and saw a liver specialist regularly. In June of 1995, at a regular check up with his doctor, blood work was done and he received his own diagnosis. He was HIV positive. He despaired. He reacted to the diagnosis as a death sentence and it sent him careening into the depths. He quit his job, drank more and more. Without the will to work, and the depression deepening he "sat in my apartment and waited to be evicted”. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know who to talk to. He felt people were angry with him and just 'shut him up' when he tried to talk about his feelings. And he lost his zest for life saying he "didn't care if I dropped dead tomorrow."
His journey back took him on a circuit of treatment and programs that ended with his epiphany at Bill Kelly House. He finally understood the depression that had colored his life and perceptions and he knew his search was ending He went into programs that helped him to grow, among them outpatient groups at Park House where he learned about Grace House. With his referral to Grace House a new chapter in his live has begun. He has found his place here and is reaching out more and more to build another community for himself. He finds seminars on reflexology and massage and other holistic health modalities. He is involved in Aliveness Project and keeps busy every day. How does he make it? He says he's learned you just have to "get one foot going."
Even plagued by his depression and an increasing problem with alcohol, he learned to trusted his own intuition to tell him what was best for him. Johnson explains his 'salvation' this way: "The one thing that saved me is that I always was a person who found his own way. Ultimately, I trusted my ability to search and research and to use my own intuition. I collect information until my body tells me yes or no. I can figure it out!". He says he has "found my own way. I'm standing on my own feet and feeling like my old self."
He gets a huge boost from everyday things. He sizzles and he lights up when
he talks about movies. He knows the actors, producers, writers, directors
and can talk about movies from the early days until now. He's a student of
cinema and can lose himself watching movies, any kind, anywhere. He journals
and does some water colors of "outdoor scenery and stuff." He loves the
outdoors whether it's participating in sports or enjoying the variety of the
gardens of Grace House that he sees every morning from his bedroom window.
"I am living in recovery now" he says. And acknowledges, "it's been a long
time coming -- from the time I took my first drinks at nine years old while I
was serving as bartender at his parent's parties," to the clean and sober he
lives now. He didn't always think he'd make it, make it through the "circle game" of
his life. But his mind is clear now, and he's moving where his intuition
takes him, full steam into grace.
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By 1994, the AIDS epidemic was rampant. The directors of Grace House decided
to explore the idea of opening a second home next door to the original Grace
House. Grace House II was opened in May of 1998. It was designed by the
architecture firm of David Goehring/Joel May. It is a graceful combination
of light woods and open spaces, large windows and a profusion of plants.