Books
‘The Storm’ chronicles 15 painful years in the AIDS epidemic
Author Zyda on losing partner, coming to terms with cards life dealt him
Christopher Zyda has been picked on by Joan Rivers, resigned and un-resigned a day after quitting from a high-level job with Disney and given a (widely viewed on You Tube) University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA) English Department commencement speech. Zyda, 58, who grew up in Porter Ranch in the San Fernando Valley, a conservative, upper-middle-class LA suburb, has played the piano since he was seven and enjoys CrossFit.
Growing up a Roman Catholic, Zyda drove his catechism teacher to distraction. A skeptical young man, he invented many lively sins to confess to the nun teaching them how to practice confession. On hearing his “sins,” the sister quickly kicked him out of the confessional.
Zyda’s parents wanted him to become a doctor. But from early on, Zyda’s ambitions lay elsewhere. In his heart he knew: English majors rule. Growing up near Hollywood, he wanted to write screenplays.
When he was a freshman at UCLA, Zyda jokes, “I came out to my parents and said ‘I want to be an English major.’”
Though Zyda knew he was gay when he was a teenager, he was closeted then. His first reveal was when he came out to his fraternity in 1984.
His (deceased) sister Joan, a journalist, was a lesbian. The Chicago Tribune fired her because she was gay.
At age 29, Zyda became a widower when Stephen, the first love of his life died from AIDS at age 41 in 1991. Stephen, who grew up in Washington, D.C., was an attorney and an economist. He attended Yale University, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Yale Law School.
Zyda met Stephen in 1984 at the Athletic Club Gym in West Hollywood. Stephen lived then in LA’s upscale Windsor Square/Hancock Park/Fremont Place neighborhood. Stephen was 33, Zyda was 21. Late last year, Zyda’s memoir “The Storm: One Voice from the AIDS Generation” was released. “The Storm” covers 15 years of Zyda’s life — 1983 to 1998 — from his first year living as an out gay man to his life in the aftermath of Stephen’s death. It offers “Searing and empowering reflections from a dark, defining era in LGBTQ+ history,” according to Kirkus Reviews.
“My story is just one of many stories from the AIDS generation,” Zyda writes in “The Storm.”
Yet, though written from his unique perspective, “The Storm” speaks to those who lived through the height of the AIDS epidemic and to young people who want to understand that time.
In a telephone interview, Zyda, who lives in the Hollywood Hills in LA and is married to Michael Wieland, spoke about his life and what it was like to write “The Storm.”
For decades after Stephen died, Zyda didn’t want to emotionally relive that part of his life. “For 26 years, those painful memories were buried,” Zyda said.
“I didn’t want to write about it,” Zyda said, “I didn’t think it would be that exciting. But friends got on me. My friend Karen wouldn’t give up.”
Zyda began writing in 2017. A group of his friends critiqued every chapter as he wrote. “I told myself that I’d have to write it in six months,” he said. “I wrote every Tuesday and Thursday night after dinner and for an entire day every weekend.”
“I travel a lot to the East Coast,” Zyda added. “If I was on an airplane for longer than two hours, I would write. If I didn’t have to work on business, I’d write in my hotel room.”
He wanted his memoir to come from his own experiences, so he didn’t read other AIDS memoirs.
At first, facing his memories was difficult. “When I started writing, I got a horrible cold. It lasted a long while.”
But his reading group kept after him to write more chapters. They couldn’t wait to read the chapters as fast as he could write them.
After a while, “I realized how much it helped me to put it on the page,” Zyda said. “It helped me to emotionally face my history.” Zyda completed a first draft of “The Storm” in 177 days – just under six months. “My husband was so supportive,” Zyda said, “even when I told him the memoir was about my first partner. And that I’d have to spend less time with him.”
Writing “The Storm” brought him back full circle. “I’d wanted to be a writer,” said Zyda, who graduated from UCLA with a bachelor’s in English in 1984. Yet, he had to cast his dream aside to care for Stephen when he became ill from AIDS. In 1989, Zyda earned an M.B.A. from the UCLA Anderson School of Management.
In 1988, he began working as a summer intern with the Walt Disney Company. Zyda worked for Disney for 10 years, eventually becoming Disney’s Chief Investment Officer.
After leaving Disney, Zyda worked with Amazon as its assistant treasurer, treasurer and vice president and international CFO. In 2001, he joined eBay as its vice president of finance. In 2003, he became San Francisco-based Luminent’s senior vice president and CFO.
In 2007, Zyda launched Mozaic, LLC, a boutique Beverly Hills-based investment management firm. Today, he is Mosaic’s CEO.
Disney was “incredibly supportive” when Stephen was ill with AIDS, Zyda said. But he wasn’t covered under Zyda’s health insurance. (Disney didn’t offer benefits to same-sex couples then.)
At that time, LGBTQ people had few, if any, legal protections. People with AIDS, and their partners, were routinely shunned by their families, health care providers – sometimes, even friends.
Thousands and thousands – hundreds of thousands of people died from AIDS. “People disappeared,” Zyda said, “it was the AIDS vortex of insanity.”
Homophobia was still rampant in the 1980s and early 1990s. “My sister was crushed after she was fired by the Chicago Tribune because she was a lesbian,” Zyda said, “she had no legal recourse and she wouldn’t come out to my parents.”
Zyda came out to his parents when Stephen became ill with AIDS. His parents believed then that being gay was sinful. Because of their homophobia, he was estranged from his parents for a time. Later, his folks accepted his sexuality and they and Zyda had a loving relationship.
Stephen’s parents, Zyda said, fell completely into the “AIDS vortex of insanity.”
Stephen’s parents’ feelings about Stephen having AIDS and toward him were “tied to their religious morality, anger, shock, and fear,” Zyda said.
Not all of Zyda’s memories are painful. He and Stephen traveled, studied philosophy and engaged in rousing political debates. Stephen was a Republican – fiscally and socially conservative; Zyda was fiscally conservative and liberal on social issues. Today, he identifies as an independent.
Early in their relationship, Zyda and Stephen went to a benefit where Joan Rivers raised money to help people with AIDS. The couple deliberately sat in the front row – hoping that Rivers would pick on them. “It was great! She skewered us!” Zyda said. “Then, she gave us all the plants on the stage because we were such good sports.”
Zyda decries the homophobia of the Catholic Church. Yet, its core values of forgiveness and being a good person have remained with him.
“Writing this story helped me to come to terms with the hand of cards dealt me,” Zyda said. “There’s a ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ quality about my life.”“Overall, I’ve been forgiving and made the right choices,” he added.

Author Christopher Zyda’s ‘The Storm’ speaks to those who lived through the height of the AIDS epidemic and to young people who want to understand that time.
Books
Pioneering gay journalist takes on Trump 2.0 in new book
Nick Benton’s essays appeared in Fall Church News-Press
Nicholas Benton is a well-known local LGBTQ advocate and journalist and the longtime owner and editor of the Falls Church News-Press, a weekly newspaper.
In his eighth book out now, Benton offers a new set of remarkable essays all crafted in the first eight months of Trump 2.0 and its wholesale effort at dismantling democracy and the rule of law. Most were published in the Falls Church News-Press, but he adds a new piece to this volume, as an addendum to his “Cult Century” series, revealing for the first time his experiences from decades ago in the political cult of Lyndon LaRouche, aimed at providing a clearer grasp of today’s Cult of Trump.
His “Please Don’t Eat Your Children” set takes off from the satire of Jonathan Swift to explore society’s critical role of drumming creativity out of the young.

Below is an excerpt from “Please Don’t Eat Your Children, Cult Century, and other 2025 Essays.”
Please Don’t Eat Your Children
In his famous short essay, “A Modest Proposal: For Preventing the Children of Poor People in Ireland From Being a Burden to Their Parents or Country and for Making Them Beneficial to the Public,” author and Anglican priest Jonathan Swift (1667-1745) uses cutting satire to suggest that cannibalism of the young might help solve a battery of social ills.
As we examine our broken society today, it seems to me that reflecting on Swift’s social critique can be quite useful. Now we face a nation filled with anger and division and there is little to suggest any real solutions other than insisting people “don’t do that!” We can start out with the observation that young children, left to their own, are neither hateful nor cruel. How do they get that way later on in their lives? What drives them toward such emotional states and behaviors? It is not a problem only for the margins of society, for the extreme misfits or troubled. It is defining the very center of our culture today. Our divisions are not the cause, but the result of something, and nobody is saying what that is.
Swift doesn’t say what it is in his biting little essay. But it is implied by a context of a lack of bounty, or poverty, on the one hand, and an approach to it characterized by obscenely cruel indifference, on the other. He coined the phrase “useless eaters” in defining his radical solution. In Hitler’s Germany, that term resonated through the death camps and some in our present situation are daring to evoke it again as the current administration pushes radical cuts in Medicaid funding.
But while that refers to the old and infirm, mostly, it is the young we are talking about here. The problem is that our society is structured to devour our young and as they begin to find that out, they rebel. Not in all cases is this the practice, of course. Where there is little or no lack, things are different. We nurture our young, as we should, and we love them. Lucky is the child who is born to parents who are of means, and in a community where nurture is possible and valued. But even such children are ultimately not immune from facing a destiny of pale conformity battered by tightly delimited social expectations and debt slavery. If they have enough ambition, education and doors opened for them, some can run the gauntlet with relative effectiveness. Otherwise, our young are raised to die on battlefields, or to struggle in myriad other painful social conflicts aimed at advancing the world of their elders. In the Bible, there is a great admonition against this process that comes at the very precondition for the tradition it represents that begins with Abraham.
It is in the book of Genesis at the beginning of the Biblical story when, as that story goes, God commanded Abraham to kill his son, Isaac, as a sacrifice. As Abraham is about to obey, God steps in and says no. The entire subsequent eons-long struggle to realize Abraham’s commission by God to make a great nation that would be a light to the world would have been cut short right then if Abraham had slain his own son. The message is that all of the Abrahamic traditions, Judaism, Islam and Christianity, owe their source, and in fact are rooted, in God’s command to reject the sacrifice of children to the whims of their elders. The last thousands of years can be best defined in these terms, where nurture is pitted against exploitation of our young with, at best, vastly mixed results. Scenes like that at the opening of “All Quiet on the Western Front,” the World War I novel and film where a teacher rallies a classroom full of boys to enlist in the war, is bone chilling. Or, the lyric in Pink Floyd’s iconic song, Comfortably Numb, “When I was a child, I caught a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look but it was gone. I cannot put my finger on it now. The child is grown, the dream is gone.”
Nick Benton’s new book is available now at Amazon.
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Books
New book highlights long history of LGBTQ oppression
‘Queer Enlightenments’ a reminder that inequality is nothing new
‘Queer Enlightenments: A Hidden History of Lovers, Lawbreakers, and Homemakers’
By Anthony Delaney
c.2025, Atlantic Monthly Press
$30/352 pages
It had to start somewhere.
The discrimination, the persecution, the inequality, it had a launching point. Can you put your finger on that date? Was it DADT, the 1950s scare, the Kinsey report? Certainly not Stonewall, or the Marriage Act, so where did it come from? In “Queer Enlightenments: A Hidden History of Lovers, Lawbreakers, and Homemakers” by Anthony Delaney, the story of queer oppression goes back so much farther.

The first recorded instance of the word “homosexual” arrived loudly in the spring of 1868: Hungarian journalist Károly Mária Kerthbeny wrote a letter to German activist Karl Heinrich Ulrichs referring to “same-sex-attracted men” with that new term. Many people believe that this was the “invention” of homosexuality, but Delaney begs to differ.
“Queer histories run much deeper than this…” he says.
Take, for instance, the delightfully named Mrs. Clap, who ran a “House” in London in which men often met other men for “marriage.” On a February night in 1726, Mrs. Clap’s House was raided and 40 men were taken to jail, where they were put in filthy, dank confines until the courts could get to them. One of the men was ultimately hanged for the crime of sodomy. Mrs. Clap was pilloried, and then disappeared from history.
William Pulteney had a duel with John, Lord Hervey, over insults flung at the latter man. The truth: Hervey was, in fact, openly a “sodomite.” He and his companion, Ste Fox had even set up a home together.
Adopting your lover was common in 18th century London, in order to make him a legal heir. In about 1769, rumors spread that the lovely female spy, the Chevalier d’Éon, was actually Charles d’Éon de Beaumont, a man who had been dressing in feminine attire for much longer than his espionage career. Anne Lister’s masculine demeanor often left her an “outcast.” And as George Wilson brought his bride to North American in 1821, he confessed to loving men, thus becoming North America’s first official “female husband.”
Sometimes, history can be quite dry. So can author Anthony Delaney’s wit. Together, though, they work well inside “Queer Enlightenments.”
Undoubtedly, you well know that inequality and persecution aren’t new things – which Delaney underscores here – and queer ancestors faced them head-on, just as people do today. The twist, in this often-chilling narrative, is that punishments levied on 18th- and 19th-century queer folk was harsher and Delaney doesn’t soften those accounts for readers. Read this book, and you’re platform-side at a hanging, in jail with an ally, at a duel with a complicated basis, embedded in a King’s court, and on a ship with a man whose new wife generously ignored his secret. Most of these tales are set in Great Britain and Europe, but North America features some, and Delaney wraps up thing nicely for today’s relevance.
While there’s some amusing side-eyeing in this book, “Queer Enlightenments” is a bit on the heavy side, so give yourself time with it. Pick it up, though, and you’ll love it til the end.
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Books
A history of lesbian workarounds to build family
Fighting for the right to have and raise kids
‘Radical Family: Trailblazing Lesbian Moms Tell Their Stories’
Edited by Margaret Mooney
c.2025, Wisconsin Historical Society Press
$20/150 pages
You don’t have a white picket fence with an adorable gate.
The other parts of the American Dream – the house in the suburbs, a minivan, and a big backyard – may also be beyond your reach. You’ve never wanted the joyous husband-wife union, but the two-point-five kids? Yeah, maybe that’s possible. As in the new book “Radical Family,” edited by Margaret Mooney, it’s surely more so than it was in the past.

Once upon a time, if a lesbian wanted to raise a family, she had two basic options: pregnancy or adoption. That is, says Mooney, if she was willing to buck a hetero-centric society that said the former was “selfish, unnatural and radical” and the latter was often just simply not possible or even legal.
Undaunted, and very much wanting kids, many lesbians ignored the rules. They built “chains” of women who handed off sperm from donor to doctor to potential mother. They demanded that fertility clinics allow single women as customers. They wrote pamphlets and publications aimed to help others become pregnant by themselves or with partners. They carefully sought lesbian-friendly obstetricians and nurses.
Over time, lesbians who wanted kids were “emboldened by the feminist movement and the gay and lesbian rights movement” and did what they had to do, omitted facts when needed, traveled abroad when they could, and found workarounds to build a family.
This book tells nine stories of everyday lesbians who succeeded.
Denise Matyka and Margaret McMurray went to Russia to adopt. Martha Dixon Popp and Alix Olson raised their family, in part and for awhile in conjunction with Popp’s husband. Gail Hirn learned from an agriculture publication how to inseminate herself. MC Reisdorf literally stood on her head to get pregnant. Mooney says that, like most lesbian parents then, she became a mother “without any safety nets…”
Such “struggles likely will feel familiar as you read about [the] desire to become parents…” says Mooney. “In short, these families are ordinary and extraordinary all at once.”
In her introduction, editor Margaret Mooney points out that the stories in this book generally take place in the latter part of the last century, but that their relevance is in the struggles that could happen tomorrow. There’s urgency in those words, absolutely, and they’re tinged with fear, but don’t let them keep you from “Radical Family.”
What you’ll see inside these nine tales is mostly happy, mostly triumphant – and mostly Wisconsin-centric, though the variety in dream-fulfillment is wide enough that the book is appropriate anywhere. The determination leaps out of the pages here, and the storytellers don’t hide their struggles, not with former partners, bureaucracy, or with roadblocks. Reading this book is like attending a conference and hearing attendees tell their tales. Bonus: photos and advice for any lesbian thinking of parenthood, single or partnered.
If you’re in search of positive stories from lesbian mothers and the wall-busting they did, or if you’ve lived the same tales, this slim book is a joy to read. For you, “Radical Family” may open some gates.
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