Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, July 13, 1993 TAG: 9309030383
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Kathleen Wilson
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
``I'm HIV negative, and I'm proud to say I've been there to make sure,'' said the lead singer for the band Pleasure Void.
The group was one of 14 local alternative rock bands to play for free last Friday and Saturday nights at the largest AIDS benefit held in this area.
The event at The Iroquois Club in downtown Roanoke was organized by Mary Warden, an assistant manager for Record Bar in Valley View Mall.
``We wanted to reach people who didn't think it [AIDS] could happen to them,'' she told me later.
Mary likes the music, but she has never been involved in fund-raising for AIDS.
``This is an issue that needs to be raised. It's not a gay thing. It could happen to anyone,'' she yelled over the metal - no, let's make that the industrial-strength titanium carbide - sounds of Grind.
She seemed a little disappointed in the turnout, but I was impressed. The crowd there was at least the size of what you'd find on an average Friday night at the Roanoke music cabaret.
The $10 T-shirts that read: ``Ignorance = Death; Education = Life'' were every bit as cool as the ones you'd fork out big bucks for at major concerts.
And with admission at $5 a head - $7 if you were under 21 - Mary earned $1,800 for the AIDS Council of Western Virginia, an organization that can use every penny it gets.
Everyone was having a great time. The Iroquois was vibrating with bass, and the room was filled with a bunch of guys my mother never would have let me go out with in high school.
Guys thrashing and slamming and shaking long hair and multiple earrings in a zillion different directions at once.
Guys who were actually wearing the little red ribbons available at the door on their black Ziggy Marley T-shirts. Guys who were even picking up and reading through the educational literature at the door.
``I've had a couple of friends who have died of AIDS,'' explained Colleen Flatt, holding up the T-shirt she bought from Mary.
Me, too.
Monica said she was sorry she didn't see any of the people she expected to see there. Friends who are gay. Or friends who have AIDS.
Monica - who, by the way, looks better in black than anyone I know - didn't just sing for the cause. She's volunteered for the health department, handing out condoms and literature when she's got the time.
She's even made a few trips to the hospital to cut the hair of people there who have AIDS.
But she didn't want me to tell you that, because ``then everyone will think you have to know how to cut hair or something like that to help. But anything you do is so much appreciated.''
There was only one thing Monica asked me to write about. And it wasn't about Pleasure Void or those haircuts or the drummer's wife's brother who died of AIDS or the guitar player's mother who has volunteered as a buddy for the AIDS project.
``If you could just tell people not to be afraid of getting tested, that would just be so great,'' she yelled over the music. ``At the health department it's totally confidential, and it is so important.''
For more information, Monica Justice of Pleasure Void sure hopes you'll give the Roanoke City Health Department a call at 857-7600.
\ A couple weeks ago in Longwood Park in Salem, a gentleman told me he was Michael Jackson.
``And that's Janet and Marlon over there,'' he said, pointing across the picnic table to a couple who later turned out to be Todd and Deandra Keeling.
So ask me if I was really supposed to buy it that Kirk Lynch - who was trying to pass himself off as the Gloved One - is f-b f+iactually orelated to George Lynch.
That's George Lynch, the local guy who made very good when he was picked in the first round by the Los Angeles Lakers last month in the 1993 NBA draft.
According to Kirk, George is his nephew. And Deandra's cousin. Which makes Kirk Deandra's uncle. I think.
So if all of this was true, then why weren't they all at home watching the NBA draft, which was being carried live on television at that very moment, I wanted to know.
``We're taping it,'' explained Kirk, who was there with 20 or so others to help Micah Mayhew celebrate his sixth birthday.
This basketball fairy tale became a little easier to swallow when we finally located Micah, who was shooting hoops with a bunch on the basketball court.
``So I guess you're excited about getting to go to the big games,'' I said to Kirk once I became a believer.
``Baby, we've already BEEN,'' he crowed.
``You must be really proud,'' I said, trying to get my foot out of my mouth.
``Proud? Of course, we're proud,'' Kirk said. ``That's family. That's blood. It wouldn't matter to me if all he did was pick splinters out of a bench. I'd still be proud of him.''
Todd was darned proud of his and Deandra's 2-week-old son.
``What's his name?'' I asked ever so politely.
``Shaquille,'' Todd told me.
``Oh, get outta here! You don't expect me to really believe THAT!'' I chortled.
Turns out this gorgeous baby's name really is Shaq.
``Did he have a hard time talking you into that?'' I asked Deandra.
``It was MY idea,'' she said, setting me straight.
Kirk has nicknames for Todd and Deandra's other two children. Patrice, 2, is ``little britches.'' Three-year-old Keandra is ``tadpole.''
Kirk and Joanne Mayhew, that's Micah's mom, have a baby on the way.
I didn't ask if THEY'D picked out any names.
But if they come up to me one day and tell me the baby's name is Magic - or LaToya or even Tito, for that matter - I swear I'll believe it.
by CNB