My now grown sons’ dad became ill in 1983 and died in 1988. During those years, it was my gay AA friends in San Francisco, more than any others, who walked me through it. Cancer is not AIDS, but we shared the despair back then.

They were there constantly for me and my two boys. At the end, two slept on my kitchen floor while we waited for the final phone call from the hospital.

They were there for my youngest child when he came out (I laready had it figured out and was waiting for him to tell me) at about 14.

I lost my oldest daughter recently - once again, cancer. My PFLAG friends were with me through all.

Dobson wouldn’t know a family value if he tripped over one on the sidewalk.