AIDS QUILT CAPTURES THE FEAR BEHIND THE LOSS

PANELS THAT DON'T IDENTIFY LOVED ONES SERVE AS REMINDER OF PUBLIC STIGMA

The Names Project AIDS Memorial Quilt is above all about preserving people's identities.

From the gold lame' rectangle dedicated to Broadway choreographer and director Michael Bennett to a calico quilt pieced together by the friends and relatives of Helen Beckey, each of the 10,848 panels on display at the Ellipse this weekend serve as handsewn reminders that AIDS has killed individuals.

Throughout the weekend, the names of the people memorialized on the 14-acre quilt and of those who have died too recently to have their own squares boomed overhead, read over a loudspeaker by activists and family members.

But amid all the emphasis on names and identity, many people have sought anonymity.

Organizers estimated that up to 10 percent of the panels are not embroidered with full names. Fifty-three of the squares are dedicated only to Jims or Jimmys, and 57 memorialize anonymous Johns and Johnnys.

Then there was the panel for Robert W.

Pinned across Robert's last name was a blue felt strip embroidered with the words "Family fear removed this name. Love can remove this patch."

Quilt visitors who have lost family members to AIDS said they understand such fear.

When Michael Hackney contracted AIDS, "There was no question we were going to take care of him," said his mother, Edith Hackney, who had come from Philadelphia to see Michael's panel in the quilt. "If people didn't want to come to our house . . . . " Her voice trailed off and then strengthened. "The hardest part was when ambulance drivers would come with hoods on like the Ku Klux Klan."

Betty Berge said the death of her son, John Karl Berge, from AIDS has made her sensitive to fear and ignorance about the disease.

"I live in Front Royal, and AIDS is not a very popular disease there," Berge said. "There are a lot of people who need comfort who don't get it because they are afraid."

Since her son's death two years ago, Berge has joined a group for people infected with the AIDS virus and their families. The group keeps its membership confidential, for fear of reprisals, she said.

After writing her son's name and the words "Your death was a teaching of love" on one of the panels set aside for visitors' signatures, Berge said, "I'm going to stay in Front Royal and {try to} reach enough people."

The death of their son, Robert Shuman, galvanized Alma and Jim Shuman to fight for AIDS awareness in their home state of Oklahoma. "We've been making strides. Now when one of our young men passes away, they say in the paper he has AIDS," said Alma Shuman, who wore a "Tell Tulsa" button.

Many quilt visitors said Project Names helps counter the stigma they have encountered because of AIDS. "Where else could you see people walking around with reverence and despair all wrapped into one?" said Bob Krieger of New York, who sat by his dead lover's panel, listening to a tape of the man singing. "At one time, you want to shake your fist to the heavens and thank God."

Act Up, a New York-based group, tried to capitalize on that impulse and yesterday's Housing Now! march by organizing a protest in front of the White House. About 250 people demanded housing for AIDS patients and chanted slogans such as "Bush, Bush, you can't hide. We charge you with genocide."

Articles appear as they were originally printed in The Washington Post and may not include subsequent corrections.