The Bay Leaf Restaurant Milton Delaware

The Bay Leaf Restaurant on Rt. 16 Milton, DE

This evening I had a very pleasant early dinner at the Bay Leaf Restaurant in Milton, Delaware.

I like to dine out occasionally.  However, I've never gotten used to eating alone even though I've been the "lonely guy" many times during my long tenure on this earthly pane.  



My high school friend Ed is down this week from his home in Pennsylvania.  When he's down at his home in Rehoboth, we usually do dinner once or twice.  However, I just didn't feel up to traveling the dangerous Route One to his home in Rehoboth Beach to have dinner at one of those loud, expensive and stressful Rehoboth restaurants.  When I go out to dinner I like it QUIET which is doesn't happen during the Season in Rehoboth.  I remember a time a few years ago when I met my friend Ed for an early dinner and the table next to us was the typical extended family:  Mom and pop, three kids, grandmom and grand pop plus a Baby in a Basket which they placed on the table right next to us.  Oh lovely.  Please don't misunderstand me, those folks are what keeps our economy going but I prefer not to stuff my face with a Chicken Caesar Wrap listening to a two month old baby cry.  Just not my thang, you know?  

I suggested to Ed that we have an early dinner in Milton.  The restaurant is called the Bay Leaf Restaurant.  I've eaten there several times and never been disappointed.  Milton doesn't have a whole lot of restaurants.  Three others that I can think of which will remain unnamed.  I haven't been impressed with the other three.  Been disappointed every time I've eaten in them so I haven't returned.

I was surprised when we went into the Bay Leaf this evening.  There was only one other patron in the restaurant.  A middle aged woman who was eating by herself.  I don't mind so much eating by myself as long as the restaurant isn't crowded and I feel like I'm taking up a whole table and thus depriving the restaurant of paying customers.  However, I prefer to dine with someone.  I like to talk, which should come as no surprise to any of my regular followers.

This evening we had a delightful meal.  My friend Ed had a pasta and spinach dish.  

I had a Chicken Caesar Wrap and fries.  I didn't get a dinner because I just can't eat that much anymore.  I ate half of my wrap and I'll keep the other half for lunch tomorrow.  I splurged and have a Triple Chocolate cake (topped with a cherry) for dessert.  It was licentiously delicious.  I really shouldn't of.....but I did.  Pangs of guilt are sweeping over me now.  As I so often say after Going For The Dessert After the Meal, I'm telling myself "Never again!"  But I will.  

Strawberries Sauvignon - a Bay Leaf Chef Special

After finishing our meal and wrapping up exchanging information on our latest medical adventures, Ed and I checked out.  At the cashier's station the owner asked me "Aren't you the guy with the blog?"  OMG!  You know folks, I'm encountering this situation more and more often.  I've had my blog going on seven years now and apparently I am becoming quite well known in certain quarters.  Of course the first thing I thought of "What did I write in my last blog?"  Even more I thought "What pictures did I post?"  Ah yes!  I did post a picture of Channing Tatum in his, well um....undies.  Oh my.......oh well. 

Lauren - the owner who asked me "Aren't you the guy who blogs?

One of the first things that went through my mind was that she would ask me "Do you practice the gay lifestyle?" as was the question my ignorant, homophobic North Carolina distant cousin asked me when I was on vacation in North Carolina in March and who, when I affirmed I was gay, growled to me "Now get this, if you set foot on my parent's land (I was going to introduce them to another cousin and his wife) you'll have to deal with me, you got that bud!".  Yes folks, I have been permanently scarred by that accusatory question.  I was prepared to be asked not to "set foot" in that restaurant but instead had a very pleasant conversation with Lauren about how slow business was for her restaurant on Monday nights.  I wasn't in Kansas North Carolina anymore folks.  I was in the First State which (mostly) welcomes diversity....and marriage equality.  

Folks, this is a fine restaurant. You want to get away from the traffic, the crowds, the noise of Rehoboth?  Travel six miles north to the historic, quaint town of Milton and the Bay Leaf Restaurant.  They are open for business seen days a week including Mondays!  Comfortable seating, good service, large menu, freshly prepared food, reasonable prices and FREE PARKING.  What's not to like?  

Me in the front of the Bay Leaf Restaurant this evening. Plentiful, free parking folks!

Yes, I do plan to go back on Monday nights.  Now to send out my invitation for dining companions.  Wish me luck! I prefer not to eat under a spotlight.

Channing Tatum

Channing Tatum

The first time I saw Channing Tatum was on last year's Oscar telecast.  He was in a dance number with a woman whose name I have forgotten but I didn't forget him.  When I saw him doing the light fantastic (with those incredible buns of his) I thought "WHO IS THAT?" Oh...My...God.  

Later I found out he is an actor who appeared in some Chippendales type movie which I haven't seen (yet).  

Of course I've heard is name bandied about in the two lying gossip rags that I receive every week (the National Enquirer and the Globe).  Unusual name, easy to remember.  Cute face.  A really CUTE face.  But then Brad Whats His Name also had a cute face at one time.  Brad, he of the ever changing hairdo and facial hair.  You know who I'm talking about, the superstar with the Global Family that they are always carrying from one airport to another.  Once I saw Brad Pitt give an interview with such an attitude that any attraction I had to him quickly evaporated by his silent arrogance.

This week I received my latest issue of Vanity Fair.  Channing Tatum is on the cover.  That is a clear indication that this young man (33 years old I believe) has arrived.

I must say, it is so refreshing to receive an issue of Vanity Fair that doesn't have some old tired retread actor or actress on it.  Thank you Vanity Fair.

The article goes on to state that Channing is "an action hero who can act." What a novel approach. He's also one HOT MAN.  That helps.  Not only me but millions of gay men like me (who have the good taste that I have) and also millions of women (who he is obviously playing too with those pouty lips of his).   

I am old enough to remember movie stars who had "IT".  Right away I recognized that Channing Tatum has "IT".  There have been other actors much ballyhooed like George Clooney and Matthew McConaughey as the "Sexiest Man Alive".  

Hey, good actor both but sexy?  Hardly?  At least from my viewpoint.  I just don't see it.  

No comparison Pancho.  Nada.  

And then there is The Brat, Justin Bieber.  You know her him don't you?  The idol of millions of teensters.  Again, I just don't get it.

Oh I've had my Movie Star Crushes before.  My latest was Ryan Gosling.  That heat is quickly dissipating, sorry to say.  Ryan seems to have fallen into the "Do you KNOW who I am trap" plus he's palling around with Eva Mendes or someone one like that.  

There was actually someone else that got my embers glowing but I even forget who that was now that I have been totally distracted by the boyish good-looks of Mr. Tatum.   

Yep, I think this Channing Tatum has a future.  

Nice jaw line

Pop

"Ike" Tipton, 1940

"Pop".  That's what we called him, "Pop."  My two younger brothers and even my mom called him "Pop."  We never called him Father, dad and, God forbid "Daddy."  No, he was always "Pop." A force larger than life....to us.

My father was born near Pigeon Roost, North Carolina in April of 1920.  Pigeon Roost is a "holler" up in those mountains of western North Carolina that border the Tennessee border.  Yes, it was and is hillbilly county.  

Pigeon Roost Road, Green Mountain, North Carolina - 2012

My father was the fifth son of nine sons born to Fieldon and Hester Lewis Tipton.  When he was nine or ten years old (don't know the exact date) his family moved from their cabin in the mountains to southeastern Pennsylvania to a tenant house on his uncle Don Byrd's farm.  My grandfather had nine boys thus cheap labor.  This was during the Depression and times were hard for the sawmill business in the mountains, which was my grandfather's occupation.  Two more sons were born in Pennsylvania.  My father had no sisters.  

My father tall in the back on the left with the hat) with nine of his brothers (one was taking the picture) and his Mother after the funeral of his father - 1939

My father met my Mother when he was driving his friend Charlie Hancks to a date Charlie had with my Mother.  My Mother's girlfriend Edie Lemon had a date with my father. However, when my father drove up in his rumble seat car and my Mother took one look at this tall, lanky, charming hillbilly, she told her girlfriend "You sit in the back, I'm sitting up front with him!" She was 15 years old and he was 18 years old.

Mom with the car (with a rumble seat) that she met my father - 1940 - my father carried this picture in his wallet until the day he died August 2000

Love at first sight?  Absolutely.  Shortly before she died my Mother told me "Your father was the only man I was ever with.  He was the only man I wanted to be with."

My father, Isaac "Ike" Tipton at his charming best - the man my Mother fell for - 1940

They began dating.  My Mother had a difficult home life.  Her mother had died before she was two years old and my Mother grew up with a succession of step-mothers.  Her father often beat her for silly things like not coming home from the store on time when it was raining.  Or for not peeling the potatoes right.  My father told her "I'm going to get you out of this mess" and he did.  They eloped and got married in November of 1940.  My Mother was still going to high school.  She returned to her classes that Monday.  However, her father soon found out that she got married and she left home with my father.

My grandfather, George Lincoln Hadfield, Sr. at the family home in Downingtown, PA -1940

They had nothing.  My father was a truck driver.  He rented a house in the country that didn't have running water or an inside bathroom. Soon my Mother was pregnant with her first child....me.  

Mom and Pop's first home - that's my Mom pregnant with me - 1941

Mom and Pop and.....ne - 1941

Life was not easy but my Mother said she was happy.  She was out of "that mess" and with the man she loved.  

She became pregnant with two more children, both boys born in 1943 and 1944.  This was during the war years.  My father was exempt from serving in the armed forces because of a head injury. Instead he was part of the war effort in cross country truck driving.  He was gone for long periods of time which my Mother was left to fend for herself to feed three young boys who always seemed hungry.  

"Pop" and his three sons - 1947 - that's me to the right with my hand on his back

My father wasn't an easy man with his sons.  I sometimes think he didn't want us but I won't go into those reasons now.  My brothers and I joke about it now but one incident illustrates his attitude towards us most of the time.  We were all sitting around the dinner table eating corn on the cob (that he grew in his own garden, he loved to garden).  He put his ear of corn down and looked around the table at his sons and with a look of disgust said "I must have the dumbest bunch of kids in the world." I don't remember what prompted that remark but it doesn't matter because it seemed nothing we did could ever please him.  However, he did love my Mother and never once did I ever hear him raise his voice to her.  Never.  

Pop with his three sons - 1980 - that's me to the right dominating the conversation (of course) 

However, he did raise his voice to his sons, often.  We learned to stay out of his way.  He never abused us.  Oh, there were the occasional "whippings" with his belt but they were mostly harmless, more noise than anything else.  

Tipton Family Christmas photo 1971 - this was after I came out to everyone.  I think Pop still didn't know quite what to make of his oldest son

We were lucky, my father wasn't an alcoholic.  He was just hard to please.  However, he did treat his youngest son as his "pet." And of course my brother John is the most well adjusted of all of this three sons.  Isaac, Jr. (the middle son) and me are continuing to adjust to our "I got the dumbest kids on earth" upbringing to this day.  I don't think I'll ever completely rid myself of my inferiority complex nor will my brother Isaac.  That, unfortunately was one of my father's legacy to us.

My parent's 50th wedding anniversary photo - we took them to dinner at the Black Angus in Eagle, PA - My Mother thought it was too expensive and never stopped talking about "All that money wasted."  That was Mom. - 1980 (this picture was taken before the dinner - that's why she's still smiling)

My father smoked his whole life.  He was told to stop smoking many times.  Being the bullhead he was he ignored the doctor's advice.  On my birthday November 9th, 1979 he had quadruple heart bypass surgery.  

Pop with Mom after his heart bypass surgery 1979

After his surgery he was never right.  He complained about the pain in his chest.  He would get so tired and out of breath that he had to stop halfway up to his garden (which he loved) to get his breath.  Six months later we found out that source of his pain was inoperable lung cancer.

Pop in his garden - his favorite place on this earth

My father died August 22, 2000 from lung cancer. He suffered a lot during the last two weeks before he died.  He had to have oxygen fed to him.  He also was on morphine to help control the pain.  

The Saturday night before he died I visited him in at Brandywine Hospital in Coatesville, PA.  A lot of people had visited him but that night we were alone.  I just sat with him while he struggled to breath.  He opened his eyes and looked at me.  We never did say much to each other but I think he understood why I was there.  He was my father.  He is who I am.  Many people say I resemble him not only in physical appearance but in mannerisms.  I've seen myself on video and I have to agree, much to my chagrin.  

My Father motioned to me to help him get out of his bed.  He said "Help me."  He wanted to take a pee and didn't want to go in the bedpan.  Yep, we're alike.  I wouldn't go in a bed pan either.  

Me with Pop a few days before he died - 1980

I helped him up out of his bed.  He put his bare feet on the cold hospital floor and leaned on his bed while I braced the bed so it wouldn't roll in its wheels.  He reached for the portable urinal and turned his back to me and peed in the urinal.  

He put the urinal back and looked to me to help him back in bed.  As I was helping him back in his hospital bed I said to his ear (he head was turned away from me) "I love you Pop." He paused for about two seconds, like he was thinking of something to say....but he didn't say anything.  I finished helping him back in his bed.  I think he understood.  He did understand.  His first born just buried our life long acrimony by telling him that he loved him.  

I sat with him for another half hour until he feel asleep. Then I left him in that hospital on that dark, hot, humid, August Saturday night.  That was the last time I saw him alive.

The following Monday, as I was opening the door to the bank office where I worked in Downingtown, I heard the phone ringing.  I knew why it was ringing.  I just knew.  I unlocked the door and rushed to the phone.  My sister-in-law Barbara (John's wife) was on the other end of the line.  She said "Ronnie, Pop died last night."  Even though I knew why she was calling, I felt like I just took a tremendous punch in the stomach.  I couldn't breath.  This man, this force in my life was.....gone.  

Barbara then told me "Ronnie, no one told Mom.  Could you tell her?" Thus, I as the eldest son, had the responsibility of telling my Mother that the man she had been married to for sixty years was gone.  

I left the bank and somehow drove home.  I felt like I was out of body.  I still had trouble breathing.  When I got to my parent's home my other brother Isaac, Jr. was there with our Mom.  They knew why I was there.  They knew.  

Pop at his home with his dog Pepper, June 28, 1976

Thirteen years later as I type this scene, I still get choked up.  I've played this scene so many times in my life since my father died thirteen years ago.  

As I've said before, I was never close to my father.  Neither were my brothers, although John may have been a little closer to him that Isaac and me.  But the one thing we always knew, he loved our Mother.  Theirs was a love story that ended that day in August. One of my father's favorite songs was by George Jones.  It was called "He Stopped Loving Her Today."  I made sure that song was played at his funeral.  

Pop, July 1967 showing off his crop of tomatoes

Green Side of the Grass

A friend sent me this in an e-mail.  OMG, it is SO TRUE.  For those of you who haven't reached your seven score plus, this is what you have to look forward to.  So, so true.  

All I know is that when I was young, it seemed to my like my youth was going to last forever.  I lived for the weekends.  Then, somewhere along the way, I got old.  Now I go to bed early on Saturday night.  Oh sure, every now and then I "live it up" and watch one of my Netflix rentals.  That is if I can keep my eyes open.  

So you young folks out there (and that's everybody under 50!), this is what you have to look forward to.  So, so true.

1946

2013

Random Thoughts

No rhyme or reason to this post folks, just random thoughts swirling through my mind.  To paraphrase our favorite Philadelphian (Anne Marie of Philly), I need to "flush this out of my head."

Tomorrow I see Today I saw my dermatologist.  I have two small growths on my chest/collar bone that probably should be looked at, taken off and biopsied.  A follow-up appointment will be held when the results of the biopsies are in.  I can't seem to get off of this treadmill of doctor's visits. 
Update: he actually took three "samples."  One off the middle of my back (which I didn't and couldn't see) which he thinks is basil cell carcinoma.  Clock is a ticking folks.

Next Thursday I have a "similuated seed implant."  I was advised to wear loose sweatpants.  I don't own a pair of sweatpants but I do own a hoodie.  Maybe I can wear the hoodie and no pants.  Whaddya think?  I asked my oncologist "Is this another invasive procedure?" meaning "Are you going to ram yet something else up one of my orifices that takes me three weeks to recover from?"   With a resigned and exasperated look that one gives a whining child he assured me that this procedure was non-invasive.  He said it was a CRT that would monitor my implanted radio active seeds to make sure they haven't moved.  Moved? Sounds to me like it they moved I have to go directly to jail, do not pass Go and start the whole procedure all over again.  We shall see.

I'm looking forward to spending the rest of the summer tending my garden, taking afternoon naps, makeing homemade soups from fresh local veggies, oranizing my 70,000 plus digital photos and scanning the rest of my old print photos, reading more Holocaust book and celebrity biographies (an odd combination I admit but hey, it's what I enjoy reading), updating my Ancestry.com account, planning next year's Bloggerama Ding a Long Rama Lama Ding Dong, and....oh yes....getting married.  That should happen around the middle of July. 

New subject, new paragraph.

So here's the deal on the wedding.  We were going to have it in our backyard but things started to get complicated (big) again.  Both Bill and I want a simple wedding with a minimum of fanfare (actually none).  However, I would like some of my friend Mark H.'s photos but that's up in the air because Mark has other committments and can't make a solid committment to me.  I was going to have the local justice of the peace (no pun intended) marry us but my boss suggested a friend of his.  I checked out the friend, a former priest, who specializes in non-demonational weddings, and was immediately turned off by his website that says he travels the world for weddings.  Also, neither Bill or I want any regligious conotations to our wedding.  None.  We don't need any swinging, smoking incense pots at our nupitals.  Not that we have anything against religion or that this former priest would do that, but it's not for us, heathens that we are.  We know that when we die there is nothing.  A BIG BLANK so what is the point? Yes Virginia, when you die that's it.  End of story. 

Then there was the guest list which kept growing and growing.  "How can we leave them out if we invite them?"  That kind of thing you know. I briefly considered having a catered affair at our house after the ceremony then got to thinking all those shoes walking on our carpet and who knows where the soles of those shoes have trod?  Anyone who has been to our house knows that you take off your shoes before you enter Casa Tipton-Kelly.  It's our thing.  People spit in the streets, greasy gas stations where one gets gas, pee on the floor at the bottom or public urinals, and what not. Bill and I are not only queer we're quirky.  Two Q's for R & B.

So now we're back to the Justice of the Piece Peace and a quickie ceremony and be done with it.  Sure, I would like to have a big deal event with all the ensuing emotion, tears and laughter but we have to be realistic here folks.  We're two old men legalizing our 49 year relationship to insure whoever outlives the other isn't taxed up the ying yang once the other dies.  Sure, there is the public recognition part which is not but anyone who knows us knows that we will still be "Ron and Bill", whether we have a state of Delaware marriage certificate or not.  But by being officially married maybe the next time one of us has a medical emergency I wouldn't have to get a third party involved to visit Bill in the hospital (which is what happened back in 2005 when Bill's gall bladder burst and he was in intensive care for four days and I couldn't make a phone call to him).  So that's where our marriage plans stand now.  July 1st we go down to Georgetown and get our marriage license and then a few days later (depending on the Fourth of July traffic) we get hitched (no pun intended).  We'll probably do IT at the Justice of the Peace office on Rt. 24, right next to that Mexican food restaurant and up the road from Beebe Medical Center where all my treadmill doctor's appointments take place.  Very appropriate...and convenient.

A long blog post here but I have to clear these things out of my head.  All this "invasion of privacy" bruhauhau that's going on now.  Hey folks, check it out.  Put your name in Google and everything you ever put on the Internet (Facebook, Blogger, etc) shows up including all the photos you've ever posted.  If you think you have any privacy left you are seriously blowing irrediscent bubbles out of your rear end.  There is no privacy today.  Having said that, there is one thing that angers me about this current controversy.  And that is the continuing lying about it.  Come one gubment, fess up.  Republican or Democrat, they all do it.....lie.  Even as I type this diatribe, I know it will end up at the NSA monster data bank in Utah to be analyzed by some overpaid security analyst.  You know what folks?  I'm too old to be bothered by this petty crap.  I really am.  So here's what I'm going to do.  I'm going to live my life (in between doctor's appointments which I think is pretty much of a permanent fixture in my life from here on out), try to stay out of people's way, try not to piss too many people off, try to protect what little money I have left from scammers who prey on old folk like me, and try to have a little fun (non-sexual of course) and laughs until the final curtain comes down on this show called Ronald W. Tipton.  As the first George Bush said referring to his one term presidency "It's been a helluva ride."  And indeed it has.  And I ain't finished yet.

Tony, the Barber

Tony the barber cutting hair 2004

Yesterday I learned from a friend of mine that my longtime barber Tony had died.  

His name was Tony Ursini.  He was born in 1920, the same year as my father.  Tony emigrated to this country in 1936 from Italy.  He came to the U.S. on the ship "Satumia" through Ellis Island in search of a better life.

Tony was my barber during my childhood growing up in Downingtown, Pennsylvania.  I used to deliver newspapers to his barber shop which was a converted garage attached to his house on Lincoln Avenue in Downingtown. 

Tony Ursini

Tony was a force of nature.  Small in stature (think Danny DeVito only not quite that short but I doubt if Tony was more than five feet tall), Tony had a giant personality.  I loved delivering newspapers to his barber shop because I knew I would always leave with a smile.  There was Tony holding court and telling stories to his daily influx of customers.  

Tony with a customer 2005

Whenever I walked into his barber shop Tony would greet me with "Hey Tip!"  Like my father, Tony liked to tease.  A playful tease, never mean or nasty.  I never knew what to expect when I walked into Tony's shop.  

Ursini home on Lincoln Avenue - 2004 - the garage on the right was Tony's barber shop when I was a 12 year old kid in 1957 - as with everything else from my youth, it seems a lot smaller now

One day when he went to the cash register to pay me the weekly bill for delivering his newspapers, he said "Com'here Tip, I want to show you something."  I warily walked over, what was he going to show me? He pulled out a fifty dollar bill.  He said "Ever see a 'Grant'?"  Of course I had never seen a fifty dollar bill.  Standing there, with my jaw agape, I was awed.  Tony got the reaction he wanted from me.  I remember thinking at that time that someday, I'll have my own fifty dollar bill.  Want to know something?  I collect those old fifty dollar bills.  Yep, ever since that day whenever I see one of those old fifty dollar bills, I put it away (and no, I'm not going to tell you where I put them).  But I do remember how impressed I was to see BIG TIME MONEY.

The years went by.  I left Downingtown, joined the Army, got out of the Army, moved to different cities (Pittsburgh, Philadelphia).  Eventually, fifty years later I moved back to Downingtown.  I needed to find a barber.  Ironically over the years I've almost always had Italian barbers.  All the years I worked in Philadelphia I had an Italian barber.  I have one now.  But anyway I digress.  I asked around for a barber and was told "Why don't you go to Ursini's?" Coincidentally, Ursini's barber shop was now located almost right next to the bank where I worked.  I asked "Oh, whose is cutting hair there now?"  I was told "Tony and his brother Joe."  I couldn't believe it!  Tony was still alive and cutting hair?  I had to see this.

Ursini's Barber Shop on right - the bank where I worked is the building to the left with the tower - 2004

The next day I walk into the barber shop.  Tony recognizes me immediately and said "Hey Tip!" It was like the last fifty years didn't happen at all.  Amazing.  

Tony was still holding court and still telling stories and still teasing.  This was a man who loved his job.  Again, I always left his barber shop smiling.  

However, I did discover one thing.  I had Tony cut my hair.  After he cut my hair I couldn't do much with it.  Even though I had a lot less hair I was having trouble combing it.  I remember when I was a kid and Tony cut my hair I always came out with an Alfalfa cowlick.

"Alfalfa" I identified because I almost always had one of these growing out of the back of my head during my pre-teen years

My "Alfalfa Lick" - 1952

Here all those years I thought I had unruly hair.  Apparently not so, because the intervening years since I had left Tony's haircuts, my cowlick disappeared.  After going back to Tony, it returned!  So then I had to navigate the tricky waters of changing barbers without offending Tony.  That I did by getting his younger brother Joe to cut my hair. I hope I didn't offend Tony but I couldn't go back to work at my hoity toity bank job with an "Alfalfa Cowlick."  I don't think Tony was offended.

I continued to get my haircuts at Ursini's until I left Downingtown for Delaware in 2006.  

Tony's brother Joe and me at their barber shop in Downingtown - 2004 - NO COWLICK!

When I listened to the message of Tony's passing my friend left on my voicemail last night when I came in from work, I felt like yet another building block from my past was gone.  Little by little it seems as if my life is ebbing away.  Very sad.

A couple of memories that I will always remember from Tony's barbershop from my pre-teen days.  One Saturday as I was collecting my weekly bill from Tony (.45 cents a week - 5 cents for daily paper and 15 cents for the Sunday paper), he asked me "Tip, do you want to earn a little extra money?"  Sure, I was a typical, poor small town kid who could always use some "extra money" to buy more comic books and candy (my Wasteful Youth, what can I say?)  He said I could come in the next day (Sunday) and sweep out his barber shop.  I took the job and would come in every Sunday and sweep out his barber shop and mop the floor.  And I have a very fond and warm memory that his wife would often knock on the adjoining wall (his barber shop was a converted garage attached to his house) letting me know she had made a hoagie sandwich and was leaving it in the alcove that connected the barber shop to the house.  Oh those hoagies were SOOO good.  

Hoagie!

Now I can make a small confession.  While I was in Tony' barber shop, alone on those Sundays I would search through the magazines that were piled on one of the several low tables for Tony's customers to read.  I knew there were some sunbathing (NUDES!) magazines in that pile.  Back in the day, that was as close as I could get to porn  something to stimulate my hormones (like they needed stimulating).  Of course most of those magazines had the "good parts" airbrushed out but every now and then I would get a magazine that showed the "the goods" or the Full Monty as the English call it.  Oh yes, I got a lot more out of that job than a little "extra money." 

My friend Larry finds a nudie magazine  - 1957

My friend Larry looking at one of THOSE magazines we found - verboten!

Tony, part of my growing up experience and part of my life.  Another building block of my life now gone.  Little by little, living connections to my past life are disappearing.  I feel as if I am being prepared for my Final Journey.  However, I am so thankful for so many warm and rich memories and I am thankful to men (and women) like Tony who have made my life so happy and memorable. 

God bless you Tony. May you rest in peace and thank you for making my life and so many others richer and happier for having known your kindness and generosity. 

Tony and Joe Ursini - 2004 -
Dowingtown, PA