"If not for this place," Michael said, "I'd probably be dead."

When Michael first learned he was HIV infected, his wife drove him to the hospital -- and left him there. She refused to allow him to see his children.

Homeless and alone, he passed through a series of temporary care facilities before ending up drunk and unconscious on the streets of Salt Lake City.

Then a hospital contacted the Eagle's Wings Project on his behalf.

Eagle's Wings is a charitable, nonprofit organization aimed at providing dignity to AIDS patients during their last six months of life. It is located in an unimposing rowhouse in Lancaster, Pa. During spring break, I spent two days visiting those who work and live there.

At age 29, Michael has lost considerable weight, is balding and fights a persistent cough. But he is thankful to be alive and at Eagle's Wings.

His six-foot frame was reclined on a sofa in the activities room when we spoke. Because he currently has an infection, he doesn't risk venturing out into the cold. He spends most of the day watching television.

On this particular afternoon, two of the other three house guests were sleeping and the third was visiting relatives.

"They have all sorts of games we play when we're together," Michael said. "And jigsaw puzzles. But I don't have patience for that -- I'd be losing my hair worse than I already am if I did those."

A lot of time is spent talking to and supporting each other.

"It's not patients I meet here," he said. "I meet my family."

Right now Michael is also trying to save money to return home and visit his kids.

"You can't just live from day to day," he explains. "You have to make plans to give you something to look forward to in the mornings."

Eagle's Wings is the brainchild of nurse Joanne DeCarlo. When I first met her, the five-foot redhead was singing with the radio while she cooked ham and green beans for the evening meal. She turned to me and smiled.

"I have flowers, music and sunshine in my blood," she said.

And she is dedicated to providing those things to others. Right down to the red tulips on the living room coffee table.

As a home health-care nurse, Joanne began working for Wayne, a young man stricken with AIDS, last April.

That work changed her life. Now she changes the lives of others.

When Wayne died on May 25, Joanne decided it was time to start a home for AIDS patients who had nowhere left to turn.

"One of the things we deal with here,"said Bob Kingston, intake coordinator for Eagle's Wings, "is the fact that nobody's loved these people, both physically and emotionally, for so long because of this disease. You need other people to touch you every now and then to let you know you're alive. So we do a lot of hugging here."

DeCarlo has also succeeded in building a myriad of support functions at the house. My Thursday night visit coincided with their weekly "musical therapy" night.

After dinner, while Joanne and a volunteer clear the dishes, the house residents gather around an old-fashioned piano in the living room. Another volunteer sits in front of the keyboard and plays requests while the residents join in song.

Watching, I had to remind myself these people were dying. At the time, they were far more concerned with living.

Joanne is already talking about expanding services to accommodate more patients. This will not be easy since the project has so far survived entirely from donations. But she reminds herself that she started Eagle's Wings as a suburban housewife with $130, who filled out her first grant application longhand.

"You can do anything you want," she declares confidently. "You just have to want it bad enough."

The lease on the present house expires in July. "Then I don't know where I am going exactly, but I do know I will have a building," she told me.

And I couldn't help but believe her.

People are fond of saying our society is too sophisticated to have heroes anymore.

I think they are wrong.