On the beautiful "bustin 'out all over" morning of June 1, 1991, my wife, Sally called my architectural firm. In a hushed tone, she said, "I tested positive for AIDS ... come home quick, I need you to hold me." I and our boys, ages 9 months and 29 months, might also be HIV Positive.

Thus began a day from hell.

On that fatal morning, I was 54 years old had four great kids with a wonderful first wife and was now married to an exceptional lady with two babies. I was at the height of my career. That career began with art at Pratt Institute, architecture at Va Tech and MIT, and ranged from a young designer on the World Trade Center to the chief designer for the Washington Metro. It included the turmoil in founding my own firm, creating a new Master Plan for the Federal Triangle, work on our Embassy in Moscow during the cold war and walking the souks of Baghdad as we planned a metro for Saddam Hussein. A career, sandwiched between growing up in Rockville, MD and life on Sweet Creek Farm in Boyds, always close to nature. It's a long life told in short stories that began in a different and slower time. My sister, Mimi, painted me pontificating in Lis­bon in 2015. While wrinkles and skin folds have been allowed to obscure an otherwise handsome face, it does bear some resemblance ...