On Sunday I attended the most posh fundraiser I’ve ever been to. It was called Passions. Collected under one roof were chefs from many of Vancouver’s best restaurants offering scrumptious little samples of thier cuisine. It’s the closest I’ll ever get to being an Iron Chef judge – and my vote for best dish went to Diva at the Met who gave out flavourful little chunks of beef on a lovely bed of unidentifiable vegetables. The place was so packed and noisy I couldn’t hear what the dish was called.
The silent auction items started at about $200 and at the end of the night, they auctioned off a bright red Vespa. Vroom vroom. No, I didn’t buy it. I think it went to Nathan Fong, food stylist and organizer of the event
The whole thing was in support of the Dr. Peter Centre which cares for people suffering with AIDS and HIV. It was inspired by, and named after, a friend of my husband’s – we used to call him PJY. Dr Peter was diagnosed with AIDS in the mid- or late-eighties. He was a funny, brave and well-spoken young physician who went public with his diagnosis each week on the CBC News. At a time when homophobia and HIV-phobia was raging, he showed everyone what living with AIDS was like.
Some of the things that I regret in my life seem minor, but I can’t forget them. One of those things has to with PJY. Ken and I were shopping on The Drive. I had Bruce in the back pack, so that must have been about 17 years ago. I went into a store, and there was PJY, already blind, accompanied by two friends. We talked a little and Peter’s friends kept saying how cute our baby was. Of course Peter couldn’t see him, and I wanted to take Bruce’s hand and give it to Peter so he could feel the chubby little hand, but I didn’t. I regret that.
