Stephen Michael Miranda

Most people who bear a namesake are named after a grandmother, parent, aunt or uncle – someone they get to meet and build memories with or someone that is routinely remembered in the family lore around hot cider on a cold Christmas morning.

Most people know little about the AIDS Crisis, other than it being an uneasy time in the fading past, or the decimation that it wrought amongst the gay community in the 1980s and 90s – and those who do tend to have some familiarity with snippets of history from New York City or San Francisco.

I am different.

I am a gay man with gay parents, named after my mother’s best friend who died of AIDS, raised on stories of activism, tragedy, triumph, and gay survival in Middle America. My parents, from small town Oklahoma and big city Texas, raised me with family values, Christian virtue, and a burning curiosity about our gay world and how we’ve gotten to where we are today.

Growing up, I’d talk at length with my mom about "Spike” – Michael Kent Pippin, who’s name I bear – what he was like, things they did together, why she named me after him, and the difficult questions about the end of his life. Regaling the good ole days, we’d always reach a point where questions begot more questions and there were no answers in memories or journals, or even online. It appeared that Mike’s entire existence was left only in her mind, photo albums, and the stories she remembers. Mike died without an obituary, a burial record, or even the chance to give a last goodbye.

I am Searching for Spike.

I am on a journey to find his story – from growing up in Eastern Oklahoma, to moving to the big city all alone, to travelling to Los Angeles to meet Cher (a full story in the book on that is certain) and many other stars along the way – and to put together the final chapter. What happened? Who intervened? Who took care of him? Who remembers? Who regrets? How can we move forward?

Along this search, I am pulling together the story of the undocumented AIDS epidemic in Oklahoma – from being one of the first states to provide funding for relief, to being the first state to provide HIV testing, to the coalition of rich and poor, gay and straight Oklahomans who banded together to fight back and find a cure.

This is the obituary that Mike has yet to be given, written in remembrance of him and so many others lost to history – and the amazing story of the grit and resilience of a community deep in the Heartland, determined to survive.