I am a communist. You could always hear us coming down the hall. Kids looking around for codes and secret signs. We all do that anyway. Kids are kids on a good day. “But he had a rainbow on the door.” My ideas about health care begin with having the right to health care and the economics of it borne by the culture at large. It’s a moral issue. Does that mean we will be communists. Please. Don’t do that. My first job was to have fun with boys who had cerebral palsy. It was a hard job as everyone had big metal braces. I took them swimming. At home, I collapsed, exhausted.  Braces could make a tough go of it. On and off and on again. You could hear us coming down the hall. In Head Start, they hung from my shoulders, my head. My legs when I tried to walk. I got to read to kids. I now deal with adolescent boys with HIV, the group goes fishing and camping a lot. Many have done sex work, but I can tell you that what they know about sex fits into a shot glass. Public health has failed. The HIV physical alone is invasive. They can get righteous mad about it, they want to know what the difference is between being raped and being penetrated by a finger and they are not kidding. Experts want to help. Experts usually need it. I am sorry, but nothing helps. Those kids are deciding on a moment to moment basis whether or not to kill themselves. Some will. Some won’t. This is Appalachia. Take a pill. You can still hear us coming down the hall. They do not believe in hope and either do I.