In his support group, Arnie asked for very little. He would often remark that it was just very nice to be heard.

He'd say, "Hi, I'm Arnie. I have AIDS. I am a recovering alcoholic and IV drug user. I am an adult child of an alcoholic, a Vietnam era veteran, a gay man and the father of a seventeen year old girl who lives in California. I'm too small, I'm not handsome and my nickname is 'Gook' ". Arnie felt like the poster child for unembraced America.

The desire he felt to see his daughter once before his imminent death was the very thing that sustained his life. A letter was all that passed between them in his last year. His love for her generated a devotion to honor her through his efforts to educate adolescents. He'd lightheartedly tell them, after talking about his life, that they needed to keep themselves alive through self respect and responsible behaviors so that they might live to talk about him someday.

He was afraid that he might not be remembered.

At his wake service, Arnie was honored by his parents and friends for his kindness and simple nature. His kindness and simplicity were gifts he perfected after years of personal torment and challenge.