In 1995 I was eating chicken flavored Top Ramen in my dorm room at UCSC. My brother John called me from Half Moon Bay and I was surprised to hear his voice. Not very far into the conversation John told me Steve Harvey had died. Steve was a friend of the family. He was one of the Harvey boys that my father worked with in the car business. As kids we grew up around Steve, his younger brother Richard (who died in a car accident), and his older brothers Bill and Mike. Bill and Steve were closer to my dad than Mike and Richard and would often come over for dinner. Steve was a giant. Or at least that's what I remembered about him. He had red curly hair and an awesome mustache which rivaled the greats of the 80's. Steve would always play any sport with us. Often he'd take us to Smith Field and we'd play baseball for hours.
Some years prior to his death my parents sat us down on the couch and told us Steve had AIDS. I was the oldest and I really didn't know what to think. I remember it was some later that Steve would visit us. I remember thinking to myself when he was coming over "Should I touch him?" There still wasn't a lot of information about the disease.
I hugged him. When he came over and I saw him, I hugged him. He was smaller. You could tell he was sick. It was the last time I would see him. He spent his remaining years away from us. He may have gone to Chicago. Unfortunately my parents didn't tell us much.
Above is an article I found interesting. I learned something today. It's not a cure, it certainly isn't the answer. I just thought it was interesting. I miss Steve.