The Storm Has Passed

 

Bill's workbench

Just like a summer thunderstorm that passes quickly to the rain refreshed sunshine, that's the way my mood is now after just a horrible Mother's Day Sunday.

Mother's Day didn't have anything to do with this frustrating day. Just the luck of the draw. 

The day started off with me getting up about a half an hour later than I usually do. I was up late last night doing something for myself, rewatching a television series ("Breaking Bad") that gave me enjoyment for quality entertainment. Something that is so lacking these days, real quality in movie production. Good writing (scripts), acting and cinema photography. No preaching about political correctness and all the usually Hollywood predictable cliches, just a good movie. Something for myself since I'm trapped here for probably the rest of my life caregiving for Bill. Each day I become more and more convinced that he will outlive me. I used to worry about that, "who will care for him if I'm not here?" but I don't anymore. What will be, will be as Doris Day used to sing.

So today I started out late, so late that Bill had to come to my bedroom door to make sure I was still alive. I was albeit body still in stiffness pain from my arthritis which gets worse each day. And no, I'm not going to get hired help in this house. I can't afford it and besides, I value our privacy and I don't want anything stolen from our house. Every time I've had strangers in any of our homes, I've had valuables stolen. Not by the principal who I asked to look after our place but by their friends, strangers I don't know. Bill still asks for his Air Force watch. I told him  you'll never see that again because one of our late friend Ron Hampton's tricks probably stole it. Same with me, I've lost a gold necklace, pages out of my journal, and other valuable items from "guests" of those who I asked to look after our place while Bill and I were away. So NO, no strangers stay in our house......EVER.

I started out late and went downhill from there. 

I barely made my weekly ZOOM call with my friends Lar, Stuart and Pat. Didn't much matter anyway because I could (didn't actually) get a word in edgewise. My friend Stuart has hundreds if not thousands of old family photographs that he's been sorting through. He said he's finally had enough and just wants to through them all out in the trash, which is usually where most old family photographs end  up after the owners passes. Since Stuart has a rich Jewish ancestry I made a suggestion that he donate the photographs to a local Jewish Historical Society. Nope, he doesn't want to spend the money (shipping) or effort. He would rather throw that valuable history away in the trash. Now if I was a normal person, I would care. So what? It's his business. But I'm not normal. I believe in history, especially photographic history. Stuart said "Most of the pictures are not identified, what good are they?" I told him that I was at the Holocaust Museum in Washington D C some years ago I saw THOUSANDS OF OLD PHOTOS OF JEWISH FAMILIES that were not identified. So what? It's history. No, he didn't get it and neither did Pat. In fact I have an album of Pat's old family photos of him that was given to him as a gift at his retirement party. Pat is a minimalist and saw no value in keeping those pictures. I begged him to give them to me. I VALUE THEM. I've posted some of them in this blog. He gave those pictures to me for which I will be forever thankful to him. I now had an opportunity to see him as a young man which I never did before since I first met Pat when he was sixty-five years old. Of course when I die, that family album of Pat's old pictures will be tossed out with the thousands (over one hundred) of photos I have, both print digital. I wish I could say I understand but I don't really. To me it just seems so selfish and thoughtless but then it's none of my business, right?

An old tintype photo of my great grandfather Randall Leighton Hadfield (he is standing on the right). One of many photos rescued from my Mother's sister's collection of old family photographs that was going to be thrown out in the trash after my aunt died. My cousin and namesake of great grandfather was sensitive and kind enough to ask me if I would like to copy these photos along with many photos that were unidentified. Of course I said I did. Randy died several years ago unexpectedly in his sleep and I have heard nothing more about this collection of photos. They were probably all thrown out in the trash by his family who has no interest in them. I have no doubt that is what happened to them. But look at this history I have preserved by posting this photo to my blog. Maybe some future descendent will appreciate what I have done. 

I have decided to let this argument of persuasion go. It's a Lost Cause.

As I was retreating from that sad and disappointing situation Bill comes upstairs. He's trying to hook up his under the counter light in his workshop? Hook it up? Didn't I just pay over FIFTY DOLLARS  to have that installed last year? I went downstairs to check it out and lo and behold, after surveying the mess he has on his desk (he's "helping" me by "cleaning out" his things), I see where he had taken it down. Why? Don't ask me, he does things like that now because he's bored. He can't see and yet he continues to think he can do his little projects but all he does is make a mess for me. Not that I don't have enough to do already. I am literally doing everything around here to keep this household going, without the income I used to earn from my part-time job at the hotel. I can't have that job which not only provided extra money for me but also gave me balance to my life by getting me out of the house and meeting people and participating in different situations. I don't think I will ever again have a part-time job. I think that luxury is gone. 

I texted my expensive handyman to arrange to have the lighting fixture reinstalled. But after I did that I decided to try my neighbor, who is a handyman in his previous life (building maintenance manager). I walk his dog when he goes fishing once or twice a week. I HATE to ask for help but I did and he was only too glad to help. He fixed it. The light is up. Bill is still upset with me because "he didn't like the way I talked to him." Well, I was upset because sometimes it seems like I'm dealing with a child. A 94 year old child who whenever he does something to "help me", only create more a problem for me. 

After a very late lunch I took a nap. I'm refreshed now. Bill asked that "we forget what happened today." I told him I would. But folks, it will happen again. Because Bill is bored. He can't see. He cognitive ability is deteriorating more and more every day. Again, he's not in pain, knows who I am and can go to the bathroom by himself. For those MAJOR factors I am VERY GRATEFUL. 

I have made a memo to myself "Memo to Ron", to mind my own business with what others want to do with their lives and their business. First of all they're not going to listen to me anyway and secondly all I do is get myself upset because of my unrealistic suggestions to others. The irony of the whole "picture" situation is that when I die, and surely I will die someday, no one and I repeat NO ONE in my family gives a shit about my collection of photographs and history of my family. I post some to this blog and others to Ancestry.com in the hope that someone like me with my awareness and sensitivity will appreciate what I've done long after I'm gone. In vain, I've looked for old family pictures of my paternal (Tipton) grandparents and their hillbilly ilk from western North Carolina and eastern Tennessee for lo these past thirty years (since 1994) I began researching my family history. Those photos of my great aunts and uncles might be tucked away in some dusty closet in a home in Johnson City Tennessee or one of those primitive mountain homes. I wouldn't know since the last time I was down there with my late cousin Bob Tipton and his wife Marie, I was chased out of there because I was gay. Yes, threatened with bodily harm just because I was "practicing the gay lifestyle" as one of my distant Tipton cousins posed that question to me and I answer without  hesitation in the affirmative. You see how foolish I am folks? I don't lie about who I am (and I pay the price).  

I look forward to the day when I go to sleep and don't wake up to all these problems. Physical pain sone thing but what also contributes to the quality of life is this type of stress, much of it I have created myself because I care about things most others don't care about. In all my years I am still trying to learn to cope and accept that others don't have the same values that I do. Man, one of the biggest problems I have today is what is going on in our country that millions still support a known con artist and life long criminal and convicted sexual predator as the Second Coming and want to vote for him as president. God I do hope I'm dead before that happens.