Know Thyself

If life is about accumulating status symbols, you owe it to yourself to know your HIV status.
I go to my doctor every year for a physical, and one of the things I ask for is an HIV test. This year, the process took on new meaning because I consummated my friendship with a longtime acquaintance. Even though I was confident that my results would come back negative -- that's been the case since I started having annual check-ups in 2001 -- I still felt anxious during the 11-day wait.
During my exam on June 8, I was asked how many sexual partners I've ever had, as well as if I engaged in behavior that would put me at risk for the illness. I also received a pamphlet about informed consent, and we discussed the difference between anonymous and confidential testing. Afterward, I waited for a lab technician to draw a vial of blood from my arm and submit it for processing.
While an HIV test is voluntary, I believe anyone who's sexually active or uses intravenous drugs should be required to take one at least once a year. AIDS may not be the death sentence it used to be (as Magic Johnson has shown after revealing his diagnosis in 1991), but everyone has to do their part to minimize spreading the disease. After getting my results, I'm pleased to say I'm not HIV-positive.
Contrary to the well-worn phrase, ignorance is not bliss. Life is priceless, and so is peace of mind. Get tested.

Lady Sings the 'Sopranos' Blues

After more than eight years on the air, I expected The Sopranos to go out on a high note. Instead, it ended with a whimper.
The series about a New Jersey mob boss and his two families -- one nuclear, one criminal -- redefined dramatic television, drawing praise from critics and viewers for its intricate storylines and character development. Each episode drew the audience into the mind of Tony Soprano and those around him, forming a relationship that was as complicated as real life itself.
Tony's ability to be a cuddly teddy bear one minute, a menacing grizzly bear the next made him an enigma one couldn't help but root for -- despite his occupation. The hope that he'd find redemption through therapy kept millions of people tuned in season after season; following his saga was like watching The Godfather meets William Shakespeare.
When the series finale aired on June 10, I predicted that Tony would have a nervous breakdown after being dropped as a patient by Dr. Melfi, foiling a suicide attempt by his son, A.J., and learning he's the target of a rubout by New York nemesis Phil Leotardo. (Having Tony die in a hail of bullets would've been the ultimate Mafia cliché, and I didn't see him becoming an FBI informant like Big Pussy.) But when the final scene of this groundbreaking show was a dark screen as Tony ate dinner with his immediate family at Holsten's, I was bewildered by creator David Chase's lack of creativity.
All things in life have a beginning, a middle, and an end ... and while I didn't expect the show to end with "they all lived happily ever after," too many loose ends were left dangling. Did Silvio Dante survive the shootout? Was Paulie Walnuts playing both sides? Who would be in charge of "the family" if something happened to Tony? And is he indebted to Agent Harris for being tipped off about Phil's plan?
Perhaps Chase thought he was putting art above commerce by letting the audience choose their own ending ... but it only showed that he was afraid to decide the fate of his characters for himself.