Paul William Zimmerman

Paul William Zimmerman, 32, of Pittsburgh, died August 6, 1994 due to complications from AIDS.  He was born in Cornell, IL, July 29, 1962, a son of Rev. Henry and Nancy Perigo Zimmerman.

He was survived by his parents, Rev. and Mrs. Henry and Nandy Zimmerman of Meadville; his partner of two and one half years, Michael Sciarretti of Pittsburgh; three sisters, Debra Zimmerman, Dawn Martin and Diane Craven; four brothers, Steve, Mark, Jon and Hank Zimmerman and several aunts, uncle, cousins, nieces and nephews.

There was no formal obituary on file, but many new articles showing support and gratitude for Paul and his bravery on advocating such a controversial topic of the time.

We do have a speech Paul presented to the PA HIV Prevention Panel on May 25, 1994, that shows how passionate and proud he was to be who he was meant to be.  The speech goes as follows:

Hello, I'm Paul, and I have AIDS.

I am one of eight children, an uncle to twelve, a fellow church member to hundreds, a college classmate, a former colleague to many professionals, with lots of aunts, uncles and cousins, and many friends from 31 years of life.  Many of these people have now been touched directly with AIDS, but not enough.  And thousands have heard the message of prevention through good programs like the Speakers Bureau of the Pittsburgh AIDS Task Force, but not enough.

I have phenomenal support from my family and friends.  But what about those who are now alone in this world because of this disease?  No one should have to fight AIDS on their own.  Believe that it is a fight - to maintain your health - to eat when food makes you sick, to remember medicine dosages and be disciplined enough to take some times twenty different pills a day, to encounter new forms of physical pain regularly, to lay there trying to gain the energy to perform even the simplest tasks like a trip to the bathroom, to deal with the fears of losing your vision, your memory, your speech and your mobility, to depend on others more and more, even for meals, dressing and bathing, to stay calm while retching your stomach out at all hours of the day and night, and to maintain your sanity, your hope and the will to just go on.  But it is also a constant battle of others sorts - with insurance companies and their denials, demands, and complicated regulations or with government agencies like social security or Medicare with their delays and empty promises, or the battles with health providers who some times only want to be paid, forget that you are a person - and much more that requires an inordinate amount of phone calls, paperwork, personal appeals and red tape.  People with AIDS are desperate for help in case management and this part of the fight.

The cost of the disease are staggering.  My prescription costs alone average $4,000 a month.  And when you add to that services for transportation, home care, hospital care, insurance premiums, nutritional supplements, medical supplies and much more, the costs skyrocket - and they are only going to get worse and put more of a strain on our already limited personal, community and government funds.  Therefore, I feel prevention has to be the biggest priority to dealing with this crisis, but how?

People need to look into our eyes - and see the vibrant, contributing, life-rich people with AIDS being robbed of their rights to life, to liberty and pursuit of happiness.  Yes, I am happy to be alive, but my fullness of life has diminished in some ways.  No more do I have the feeling of self-accomplishment that come from working to earn my own money and contributing to my favorite charities.  I now must rely on government and charity sources for support.  Or even riding my bike through the hills of Pittsburgh, rough-housing with my nieces and nephews, or running down the street to grab an ice cream cone - no more.

People tell me that my eyes are still full of life, and I know I have the strength and faith - I see the food that is bestowed to me through people who love me, share with me and enrich me.  I am still hopeful that this world will do what's right, good and just, but time is running out.

Maybe television commercials might somehow reach a youth somewhere who has yet to be touched by the tragedy of AIDS.  But mostly they seem to have become desensitized to this - its not statistics, safe sex advice, a commercial movie about AIDS, or a display of the memorial quilt that alone can make the difference.  We need direct, physical, heart-felt contact with the reality of this disease.

I try to get out into the public as much as possible, not only to continue to enjoy life, but I want people to see me.  I don't mind all the stares as much since I believe that some may be touched by the reality of this disease by seeing me.  How many of the people here today have had direct, personal contact with this disease - I bet it's most of us, and maybe that is what brought you here.  That is what its takes, unfortunately, but it had to be "in your face."

I sometimes feel like yelling at the carefree youth of today, "don't let this happen to you."  They seem to feel immortal.  They say they aren't afraid to die - but this disease to not just about death - it's long, degenerative process that drains you every day - that you can't run away from - that just continues to progress further and further.

People need to hear us, to see us, and to face this disease as a real threat.  My challenge to you would be to make it real to everyone.  That's why I relish to opportunity to be here today and be a part of this struggle.  So thank you for listening, thank you for helping and God's speed to us in this fight.

Paul passed not too long after giving this speech, but his fight was not in vain.  He would be proud to see how seriously people became about AIDS prevention, and the progress the treatment of AIDS patients became over the next 30 years.

Interment of his cremated remains are at Greendale Cemetery.