I've been here before.

So.

I've been here before. Not like this, of course.

But this is not unfamiliar to me.

Still, I don't know if we are at the start, in the middle or getting closer to the end of this thing.

What I do know is this: We'll get through it. All of us with loss. Some of us, unbearable loss.

But there will be a point when this ends.

And we will all be together, again. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon enough. And at that time - on a day after we are safe and some sense of logic has returned to our daily lives - I promise to do this.

I have a small house on big ocean.

And this house has a large porch. And for many years I've hosted Irish musicians to play for our neighbors on the porch. People come from all around, bringing chairs and blankets.

Some bring really good Irish whiskey. And other things.

So today, as we are all neighbors now, I invite everyone who reads this to do the same and join me when I do this again. It may be June. It may be July or August. September?

We'll have to wait and see.

The lawn and the grassy run down to the water's edge is large enough to host you, my family, my great colleagues from our company, my good friends and two hundred and fifty more.

Easy.

I'll also promise to serve the best clam chowder you've ever tasted. I promise the best Irish band you've ever heard. And I promise the most beautiful bay you've ever seen.

And we'll look back and say how we got through this, together. We'll bear the inconceivable, together. But we'll also share discoveries yet unimagined. And revelations that were previously impossible. Tales of dragons both vanquished and tamed.

Many people my age have already lived through a plague. It was named Human Immunodeficiency Virus. H.I.V. It was contained and a life-saving treatment was found.

Back then, too, we quickly realized the White House would provide no support. No leadership. So we had to work with doctors, researchers and the medical industry ourselves - directly. We turned to our families and friends to help us find ways to get through it.

We had been - at first - abandoned. So we learned how to fight. And live. The eventual toll from the White House's early denial, dismissal and delay would become incalculable.

Even then, to get through the nightmare, we looked to a future when it would be better. When it would be all over.

And it came.

A treatment was developed, reducing the virus to harmless levels. Today, even more treatments are available.

And close to that day well over 20 years ago, I bought this small house.

Where you are now invited.

And we'll share and honor how we lived through it. And talk about our plans for a better tomorrow.

We've done it before.

Sound naive? Sure. It sounded naive back then, too.

I invite you to come, anyway.

To Cape Cod, Massachusetts.

To a small house. By a big ocean.