ABSTRACT
Editor’s note: Alone in my car after David’s memorial service, I cried as I wrote in my journal about what he meant to me and to so many other people. His absence was incomprehensible. The eclectic crowd of those who had come to mourn his death—teachers, young children, AIDS activists, bi activists, leather daddies, sex radicals, therapists, rabbis, and family members—was testimony to how instrumental David was in bringing communities together.
