A New Day

"How are you doing?"  That's a question I am often asked when I go about my daily routine.

Whether it be at on of my ever increasing doctors' appointments, or encountering a neighbor during my Morning Walk.  "How are you doing today?" I am asked.  My answer is always the same:

"I am doing fine.  Every day I get up, and put one foot ahead of another was I get out of bed, I am thankful I have one more day on this earth" (or some variant of that statement). 

And I am thankful folks.  Even though I do have my down days, like a few days ago when the Black Dog appeared at my doorstep again.  

Not to belabor the subject, but I usually keep the Black Dog (depression) at bay through my daily activities and appreciation of life.  But somedays, like last Sunday, there was a confluence of events that prompted that door to open just a bit and I caught a glimpse of the Black Dog.

My high school class was having an informal reunion which I choose not to attend because I am not welcomed by the wife of the host (my former classmate) because I am gay.  She has a right to her views (which I respect) but I also have a right to live my life openly as a gay man without apology of seeking forgiveness from her God because of my "sinful" ("love the sinner, hate the sin!") ways.  I love attending my class reunions but just couldn't bring myself to attend this one after her unfriendly and unwelcoming actions of the past year which she made to adamantly clear.

Fall is also the time that I have held my family reunions (in early October).  This was the year I would hold it.  Not anymore, again because of the boycotting of most of my family from my last family reunion because I took Bill.  Those who didn't attend the reunion because I brought my spouse are hypocrites. They consider themselves religious but they are so judgmental.  They bring their families but I dare to bring mine and, by their absence, they show me disrespect as a human being and a family member. And I include my own immediate family in that group.  

And, perhaps the trigger to my Visit to the Deep Valley of Depression was the recent death of a fellow blogger and Good Guy, Jay of Virginia.

"Jay" of Virginia at the 2014 Bloggerpalooza

 
Jay always left positive comments on my blog.  He always seemed happy and full of life.  Then one day, because of our sensation seeking, witch hunting news media culture, he was publicly shamed and humiliated by an accusation of which I do not know the details.  Guilty or innocent, why the necessity to notify the news media to cover the raid on his home even before charges or a trial?  That's the society we live in today folks, in someways not that much different than the old Salem Witch Hunting Days. 

So I posted a self-serving, Poor Me Pity Part blog posting.  Immediately after I posted it I wanted to delete it.  But I didn't.  That's the way I felt that day.  Sometimes we have to go to the depths to arise up again.  I'm coming out of it now folks.

What always brings me back is the absurdity of life.  Last night I saw a Donald Trump rally in Dallas Texas.  Trump says some crazy things (you think?) but man oh man, I do love the way he's shaking up The Establishment.  The Ruling Class which consists of The Media, The Usual Suspects (politicians and their owners who subsidize their campaigns.)  For instance when I see the baby-faced Governor Scott Walker of Wisconsin (who is owned outright by the monstrous Koch Brothers

who would never run on their own because both of them look like the Frankenstein's monster), dropping in the polls, I am encouraged that maybe there is some justice in the world.  The Ruling Class has so long practiced putting a pretty face out there to be elected so they can further rape and pillage the American middle class for their own greed and aggrandizement. 

"You think I'm a joke? Just watch what happens."

When Donald Trump calls Jeb Bush "low energy", I love it!

When Donald Trump calls Secretary of State John Kerry a "schmuck" for participating in a bicycle race (and breaking his leg) while negotiating the Iran nuclear treaty, I love it!  

The Schmuck  John Kerry  bike racing - man, you're 73 years old!

When the Talking Heads, the political pundits, preface all their statements when talking about Donald Trump "Of course he will NEVER be elected president", they're expressing their wishful thinking.

They don't get it.  I do and many people like me do, Donald Trump is saying what I and many others like me in the Great Unwashed are thinking. And he's getting away with it which totally befuddles The Establishment.  John McCain not a war hero?  

John McCain, an Angry Old Man

Well, actually is he?  He hotdogged an air mission which he was told not to go on and got captured.  War hero or an airman who disobeyed order (which he could because both his father and grandfather were admirals in the Navy)?  While we should all respect the service of anyone who serves, and especially those who were taken prisoners of war; war hero?  My uncle John Tipton, who was a prisoner of war in Germany (he parachuted into Belgium and was captured) escaped twice and was recaptured twice.  His mother died two months before he was released at the end of the way, think he had died.  Did my uncle John consider himself a war hero?  No, he served his country.  He never once considered himself a "war hero."

Does Carly Fiorina have a face you want to look at for the next four or eight years?  Funny thing, I thought the same thing myself.  Of course it was impolite to say such a thing but hey, I didn't want to look at George W. Bush's face for eight years but I did.  For that matter I didn't want to look at Al Gore's face either.  Political correctness has gone amuck in this country. But I do have to say, Carly's folks came out with the best political ad yet of this political season in response to The Donald's impolite remarks about her appearance. 

Carly Fiorina - Republican Presidential candidate

As  you can see by my wild tangents I'm out of my Black Dog mood (thank goodness).  When I get those moods, they (thankfully) don't last too long. And I am so looking forward to the GOP debate tomorrow night. I think Ms. Fliorina will hold her own, unlike most of the other GOP Clown Car like  JEB! Bush, Rand Paul, Marco Rubio, Scott Walker and Humpty Dumpty Himself, the Bully of Jersey Chris Christie (and I used to like him too). 

So, as you can see I'm out of my Deep Funk.  

I leave this post with a positive memory of our blogger friend, Jay of Virginia.

Jay (Murphy) of Virginia - at peace now

Weekly Roundup

That was the week that was.  Remember that show?  If you do then you are fricking old man!

So here's the deal.  Dr. Spo hit exactly on the source of my depression.  I have this sense of foreboding that Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan actually stand a good chance of being elected president and vice president of the United States.  This possibility of this those to blatant liars being elected president not only depresses me for what they would do to this country once they got into power, but I am also depressed that so many people would vote against their own interests and vote for these two men who have no moral core.

Romney only wants to be president because he truly believes he is entitled.  Ryan wants to position himself in power to he can be the spearhead in dismantling all the social safety net programs since the presidency of Franklin Roosevelt.  Everyone knows that the Republicans have always opposed Medicare and Social Security for their inception.  Now they finally have two men who are "pretty", unlike the ugly pig faced Karl Rove and his ilk, who will slip into power by lies, fear mongering, and voter intimidation.  I fear for this country if Romney and Ryan get into power and take control of our government and start dismantling the social safety net.  Even worse, a Republican president stands a good chance in the next four years of appointing one of two new Supreme Court Justices.  If that happens look for the Supreme Court to overturn Roe versus Wade and the right to choose will again be illegal in this country.

That's all I'm going to say about the political situation.  The last presidential debate is tomorrow night.  I expect Romney to dominate the debate and continue with his lie and flip flop to a more moderate stance to appeal to the undecided voter.  By the way, who in the hell can be undecided at this late date?

Today Bill and I took another trip to Pennsylvania.  Today was a beautiful fall day.  Bill misses Pennsylvania so much.  I wanted him to see the fall foliage color before the cold gray days of winter descend on the landscape to the state north of us.  We weren't disappointed.  We also stopped in another cemetery to try and full fill twenty Find a Grave.com photo requests.  Didn't have any luck there.  Most of the graves were in the 1700's, that's over three hundred years old folks.  Many winter winds have worn away the lettering on those ancient tombstones.

On the way back we stopped in our new favorite restaurant, "Daddy's Kitchen."  We had the homemade cream of mushroom soup again.  Delicious!  I wasn't so fortunate in the choice of "sandwich."  I ordered a chicken quesadilla.  It was a cheesy mess.  I'm still digesting it four hours after I ate only half of it.  The french fries were superb though.

Today ends my "vacation" week.  I truly enjoyed it.  Tomorrow I go back to work at the hotel.  Tomorrow evening on my shift they're having an event.  A $1,000 plate (or whatever they call it since it's not really a sit down dinner) to raise funds for governor Markel's reelection campaign.  I'll be busy meeting and greeting.  I'll be busy but I don't mind.  At least governor Markel won't be making any comments about "not caring for 47% of the American public."  He's a Democrat.

The Black Dog Returns

The "Black Dog"

Yep, he's back.  The Black Dog has arrived at my doorstep again.  I don't know what brought him here this time.  Today was a beautiful fall day.  Bill and I aren't fighting.  My mortgage is paid off.  No one is sick in my immediate family.  I just had a wonderful week of vacation.  But the Black Dog is back.

How do I know?  I know because the usual things I find interesting and do aren't holding my interest now.  Normally I can sit at my computer for hours updating photos of cemetery headstones to my Find a Grave account.   I've been doing that today but it is boring me.

Shadow of me at St. Peter's Episcopal Church Cemetery Lewes, DE

When I am sitting at my computer updating my Find a Grave account, reading other blogs, or just catching up on my e-mail I usually have the TV on at the same time listening to previously recorded show on THAT liberal station MSNBC.  I can listen to Rachel, Chris, Ed, Reverend Al and Lawrence for hours on end and never get bored or anxious.  I'm bored and anxious now.

Maybe it's because of a foreboding that Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan might actually be elected president and vice president.  Maybe it's the knowledge that there are enough stupid people or "low information voters" in this country that they will actually believe their lies and vote against their own interests.  Maybe that's why I'm depressed.

Maybe it's because I have found the gay community in the Rehoboth/Lewes/Milton area wide but shallow.  I've lived here for six years now and the only true friends I've made are straight.  Seems the gays I meet either want to have a relationship or they just aren't interested in having an old gay man as a friend.  Of course I've always had trouble making "just friends" with gay men.  Almost all gay men I've met think if you're friendly with them it means sex.  I've always had that problem with making gay friends.  So be it.  I actually would rather be alone tonight instead of attending a drag show where yet another female impersonator is doing Judy or Liza.  God, can't they come up with someone different?

When I used to vacation in Provincetown in the Eighties the female impersonators were doing Judy and Liza.  And what's with the female impersonators anyway?  Haven't we moved past THAT gay community? Oh I understand the straight tourists like the show but isn't this a like having black people do a minstrel show for the white folk?  But I digress.

Lovely, just lovely

Maybe it's because of my never ending visits to doctors and dermatologists.  I would like to get off of that treadmill. I'm turning into my parents at the end of their life for Christ's sake.

Whatever it is, I hope this dark cloud passes over my head soon.  I think I'll watch a couple episodes of "Six Feet Under."  That crew always lifts my spirits.

Coming Out Of The Doldrums

Two old cats - me and Stormy - 2009

Perhaps a few of my regular readers have noticed that lately I've been a bit "down."  I've tried not to convey that black cloud in my blog postings but alas, a few caught on to my depressed state.  It is no fun reading a depressing, down blog.

What got me depressed? First of all politics and the repugnant Republicans and that odious liar Willard Mitt Romney.  No, I'm not going to go on a political spiel but only to say when I think of the possibility that the evil and banality that is the Republican Party today (the pig faced Karl Rove and his minions) could actually elect an empty suit like Romney and Paul Ryan, who wants to end Medicare as we know it and privatize Social Security actually makes me ill.  Oh sure, I've heard the lies "our changes won't affect anyone over 55 years of age."  Sure, believe that and I have a bridge I want to sell to you.

There is so many reasons to vote for President Obama and against the Romney/Ryan ticket that I don't know where to begin.  This is beginning to sound like a political spiel isn't it?

One of the main reasons is that they would repeal the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" law which prohibits openly gay members from serving in the armed forces.  This from two men who saw fit not to serve in the military.  This from a presidential candidate who justifies his five, strapping, healthy sons not serving in the military because they "work on his campaign and that is the same as serving in the military."  NO IT ISN'T!

There is so much that is so wrong about today's Republican Party.  Another truly horrible thing is happening in my home state of Pennsylvania with the most restrictive voter repression law in the nation.  I used to be a poll worker when I lived in Pennsylvania.  It's a good thing I don't live there now because I wouldn't, couldn't demand photo ID's from everyone, especially that little old lady who lives by herself and doesn't drive a car.  Under today's law my Mother wouldn't be able to vote.  Maybe it's just as well she's dead because knowing she would be denied the right to vote would probably kill her anyway.

So that is part of my funk folks.  One of my commenters recently said he (or she) detected a bit of self pity in my more recent posts.  They attributed it to me feeling bad about being old.  I plead guilty to the self-pity part.  I do have a life long weakness for self-pity which I try to suppress, sometimes without much success. When I see it creeping in I go into my shell until it goes away.  But one thing I do not feel bad about is my age,  no way, no how.  It is what it is and I don't feel bad at all for being the Old Guy that I am.  In fact I feel rather proud that I've made it this far.  My only concern is that when I do die it's not too ugly, prolonged or painful.  But I am growing old gracefully and for that I profoundly thankful.

I've also had some other things on my mind.  Health issues.  My right leg was so sore a couple of weeks ago. I was positive I had cancer of the leg and would have to have it amputated.  Really, that is how dramatic I get.  My leg is back to normal now.  I still have my appointment with my doctor tomorrow to check it out but I have no idea what happened to my leg or why it is better now.  But I am keeping my appointment with my doctor because I need a new personal doctor to "take me out."  Now that I have more things happening to me, I should plan on having a doctor that is nearby and more convenient for me than the VA which is almost a hundred miles away.  That distance doesn't work when I'm having a kidney stone attack which will happen again, I am positive. Plus, I'm having a spate of pre-cancerous skin issues on my face recently.  My dermatologist says "there's a change and we want to be safe."  What that means is that they're going to shave off more of my face.  When I was young I hated my prominent nose.  However, at this time of my life I want to keep as much of it intact as possible.

Something else that was preying on my mind was the annual family reunion that I organize and have in October.  I've done this for the past two years.  It is a LOT OF WORK but well worth it for keeping in touch with family members.  Plus, I have a chance to have photos taken which I can share with my family.

This year I wasn't getting the response that was necessary to justify paying to have the reunion catered (need at least fifty).  Last year one whole branch of the family didn't attend which hurt me a lot (I think I offended someone in the family unintentionally).  I was afraid I would hold a reunion this year and hardly anyone would come.  But I also felt bad for those who wanted to come.  I felt obligated.  I was torn.  I finally bit the bullet this morning and sent out a missive through my Facebook account "postponing" the reunion this year.  I hope I get a favorable reaction to that news.

Two young cats - me and Morris, the rescue kitten - 1980

So there you go folks, a little venting on my part.  Hopefully I'll crawl out of this latest funk and get back to my old irascible ways.

The Black Dog Returns

He's back.  The Black Dog.


The Black Dog Returning is how Winston Churchill described his returning depression.


Do not worry friends, I'm not clinically depressed.  I'm not catatonic.  I guess you could say I'm a little blue over a few recent events.


First of all, the weather is not cooperating at all in enhancing my mood.  Every winter, especially during January and February I get a serious case of SAD (Seasonal Affectional Disorder.)  That is a mood swing caused by lack of natural sunlight.  I am a prime candidate for this common affliction.  I love the sunlight.  That's why my house has more windows that you can shake a magic wand at.  The first thing a new visitor to my house always says is "Wow, look at all the windows!"  Still, with all those windows don't make much difference if the day outside is a gray, cold, monotone day.


I can usually get through these days of the depths of Winter Doldrums by engaging in activities that normally bring my happiness.  However, I am on very tentative ground because it just takes one or two things to happen to throw me into the Pit of Despair.


Just this morning I had one of those "things" happen.  For eleven years I have worked very hard to accumulate and share my family history.  Unlike some other family history researchers, I share everything I have, sometimes at great personal and financial cost to me.  Thus, it is always a shock to me when someone throws my kindness and generosity back into my face simply because of the fact that I am gay.


Some years ago I used to edit the nationally distributed TFAA Newsletter.  I paid for all the expenses of printing the newsletter and the postage.  When I lost my job I could no longer afford to distribute that newsletter.  Thus the newsletter withered on the vine.  This past week another family member researcher resurrected the TFAA and sent out a new newsletter by e-mail.  I thought I would help him out by sending the newsletter to my mailing list through my genealogy blog.  On my genealogy blog is my profile.  My profile states that I am gay, which I am.  This morning I received this message from one of the persons (located in Tennessee) who received my e-mail:

"Who gives a rat’s ass about your sexual preference!!! Otherwise, it’s pretty interesting."


On 1/28/11 10:32 AM, "Ronstales@aol.com" <Ronstales@aol.com> wrote:

Tipton Tales and Trails: The Tipton Family Association of America Resurrected!   
Dear fellow Tipton family descendants,

I am sending a link to my latest "Tipton Tales and Trails" blog posting.  On this posting I have duplicated first Tipton Family Association of America newsletter that John Parrish has produced for the resurrected TFAA.

I have included all my Tipton family e-mail addresses.  If you wish to be taken off this mailing list, please send me an e-mail telling me so.  Some of the e-mail address may be duplicated and/or outdated so please excuse any mistakes in mailing.

If you know of any other Tipton family member who is interested in being put on this mailing list, also send me an e-mail telling me so.

We are all looking forward to the resurrected Tipton Family Association of America newsletter and our new website.

While I know I should be immune from this homophobic remark after having enduring this crap for most of my sixty-nine years on this earth, it is still disheartening to be on the receiving end of hate.  No matter how much I think I have a thick skin, hateful darts like this still pierce me.


Of course I responded to this hateful person which I probably shouldn't have because this type of hateful person is unreceptive to reasoning.  They only know their narrow, bigoted view of life and anything that views from that view is considered not worthy of common decency and respect.


Try as I might I can't get my mo jo back today.  I was going to go out to the Friday Night Dinner Group tonight just to get mind off this hate but of course the weather intervened (rain, sleet, snow and ice) and I can't go out.  I have this picture in my mind of my new 2010 red Subaru Forester sliding on the ice into an accident.  I don't need that trouble.


Try as I might, I can't get up the enthusiasm to write a positive, cherry, "happy with life" blog although I am by nature a happy, cheerful person.  I even went into my 42,000 plus digital photos on m iMac to sort through them and organize, label, and enjoy the memories invoked when I see pictures of happier times. That didn't work tonight either.


So here I am writing on my blog about my depressed state.  But then that is why I have a blog, my blog is my therapy.  I've never been to a "therapist."  When I need some mental work I write.  I've been doing this for years and it works most of the time.  I think it is working now.


What also makes me feel good is thinking and looking at people I know and like.  While going through my pictures a few moments ago I came across these two pictures of two of my favorite bloggers, Spo and Mark.  Notice that both of them have almost the identical pose?  It is almost as if they know my present plight and are concerned.  At least I would like to think so.

I'll be back tomorrow when I'm in a better frame of mind.  I was going to apologize for this downer of a blog (I always think of Debbie Downer when I post negative blogs) but I'm not going to apologize.  This is my life and this is exactly the way I feel now.  I just have to get through it.

Sunday on the Boardwalk

Early morning beach chairs awaiting their owners

So what do you do when you feel yourself slipping into sadness?  When you know that the next step is depression.  What do you do to stop that slide?

This is what I do.  I go to the boardwalk.  Fortunately I live only six miles away from Rehoboth Beach and their new cedar boardwalk.  The new boardwalk was built this past year from stimulus funds provided buy the U.S. government.  Thank you very much taxpayers.

Normally I stay as far away as possible from the tourist crammed Rehoboth Beach boardwalk during the season.  I especially stay away from the boardwalk on weekends.  But there is a little known secret only known to most of us year round residents.

If you get up real early in the morning, clean up, have your breakfast you still have time to get to downtown Rehoboth before the parking meters kick in (at 10 am) and the Horde (i. e., summertime tourist crowds) descends on this east coast seaside resort.

I did my usual morning routine this morning then I asked Bill if he would like to go for a ride to Rehoboth. He asked me "When are you leaving?"  I told him "Right now.  I have to get some gas and then I'll drive in. I want to take a walk on the boardwalk to cheer me up and on the way back I want to stop in the Giant store to pick up some hummus for lunch."  Bill said he would go along for the ride but he wasn't going to walk on the boardwalk.  Bill likes to sit in the car and People Watch.  He's alright with that as long as I don't take too long walking on the boardwalk.

My '98 red Forester Subaru (124,000 miles) is waiting for me in the garage.  We pile in.  I make sure I have my camera because I want to take some pictures for this blog posting.

At 8 am, Route 1 is almost empty.  As a friend of mine used to say about Route 1 in the winter "In the dead of winter you could roll a bowling ball down Rt. 1 and not hit a car"  Of course that statement is no longer true because Rt. 1 is busy even in the wintertime now since southern Delaware has been discovered to be the place to retire to.  Low taxes, friendly people, wide open spaces.  Maybe most of the restaurants have a way to go before they equal the quality of Philadelphia or even Provincetown, Mass. restaurants but Lower Slower Delaware (LSD) is a nice place to spend one's retirement years.  And did I mention the abundant sun?  Yes, lots of sun and big sky.

In no time at all we arrived at the 1A turnoff from Route 1 to Rehoboth Avenue, the main drag in Rehoboth Beach.  Now we are encountering more traffic, but still nothing like what Rehoboth Avenue will look like later in the morning.  In fact, as I write this Rehoboth Avenue is probably clogged with beach visitors looking for a parking slot.

I drive all the way to the end of Rehoboth Avenue and make the turn at the bandstand.  A block up on Rehoboth Avenue I find a parking spot.  Since the meters don't become active until 10 am I have an hour and a half to walk the boardwalk.

I get my camera and leave car.  I tell Bill I'll be back before it's feed the meter time.  He says "Don't be too long.  I don't want to roast here."  


The following is a pictorial record of my walk on the boardwalk this morning:

Stimulas funds boardwalk 

An early morning jogger on the boardwalk

Boardwalk activity picks up

Beach umbrellas line up and ready for a day of sunshine

Looking for buried treasure

Boardwalk transportation

Watching the waves

I feel better now.  This is why I moved to Delaware, to be near the beach.  

Have a wonderful day.

The Black Dog

The Black Dog is creeping around my door again.  Those of you who have had visits from the Black Dog know whereof I speak.  Those of you who don't, look up Winston Churchill.

It is a Saturday night. For many years I used to always go out on a Saturday night.  I lived in Center City Philadelphia and the Westbury Bar and later the 247 Bar was my watering hole of choice.  The Irish have their pubs, the religious flock have their church functions.  I, as a gay man had gay bars.

When I was 37 years old (31 years ago), I gave up on gay bars.  It was the classic case of looking for love in all the wrong places.  I moved out of the city and into the country on 6.8 acres of wooded hillside land.

My longtime partner and I enjoyed a domestic lifestyle with our three Pomeranian dogs for over twenty five years on that wooded hillside in East Brandywine Township, Chester Country, Pennsylvania.

Then came a time when the ever escalating rise in taxes forced us to move out of Pennsylvania to the more tax friendly state of Delaware.  I always wanted to live near the water so here was my chance.

In April of 2006 built a house in Delaware, just a few miles up the road from the increasingly popular gay resort of Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, also known as "Gayberry."

We put our house up for sale in Pennsylvania expecting a quick sale.  It was just the beginning of the housing crises.  We almost faced financial ruin after a combination of me pricing our house too high and unscrupulous buyers seeking to take advantage of our vulnerable position when they found out we had we were paying for two mortgages.

We survived that crises.  It was probably the worst thing I ever faced in my life short of being informed that I had a terminal illness.

During the last four years we have settled in quite nicely in our neighborhood.  We have made friends, mostly straight.  We have made a few gay friends (who we appreciate very much) but most of the gay crowd down here is very clannish.  It's all about who you are and what do you do for a living.  If it is not that then someone is coming on to me (yes, even at my age.)

So, friends are far and few in between.  I have been fortunate in that I have retained some friends from my youth (grade school and high school.)  I value their friendship dearly.

I can usually keep the Black Dog at bay by keeping busy.  I have a lot of interests.  I work part time.  I garden.  I write a blog.  I research my family genealogy.  I read.  I take pictures.  I cook.  But every now and then a great sadness creeps up on me.  Sometimes I can identify the cause of this sadness.  Sometimes I cannot.

It is not a sadness for myself.  It is a sadness for those who have gone out of my life.  For those who have died.  The five Pomeranian dogs we have owned during our time together:  Hamburger, Sparky, Horace, T and Babydoll.  I miss them terribly, especially the last three and especially Horace.  Horace was the one dog in my life who chose me.  We were buddies.

Me and my buddy Horace, near the end

Then there are the people.  I will not mention them at this time but they are many.  Those who I outlived.  I remember something my grandfather once said when he was 86 years old.  He told me "All my friends have died.  I have no friends left."  My grandfather died a year later.  His heart stopped.

I look back over my life's landscape and note with increasing frequency that many of my friends have died.  I'm only 68 years old.  I have close to 20 years to go until I reach my grandfather's age when he made his observation about friends.  I wonder how I will do.  Maybe this is the cause of my visit from the Black Dog tonight.

I Gotta Get Out of Here

It’s been almost a month now since I’ve been out work. I still haven’t reset my daily schedule to cope with this unexpected development.




I needed work not only for the extra money that it brought into the household (and paid the mortgage) but for my mental well being.



I am hard wired to work. I’ve had some kind of job since I was 5 years old (used to run errands to the local grocery store for my neighbors) to paper boy, office cleaner, dishwasher, store clerk, bank operations manager, and now hotel front desk clerk. It’s been quite a ride but I’m not ready to quit working yet.



I don’t want to work full time but I do want and need the discipline of a job to go to. As a co-worker of mine explained (he also worked part-time like I did), “My job gives me something to plan my week around.” That explains my needs also.



It’s not as if I don’t have enough to do around the house, I do. However, I do need to go out and when I go out I like to get paid. If I don’t get paid, then when I go out I’m spending money. Or at least that’s what I used to do. I’m at a time of my life that I don’t need much of anything any more. I’m in the maintenance stage. Plus, I don’t have the disposable income to indulge in buying things I don’t need.



So it’s time for reset in my life. I need to reset my daily routine where it doesn’t include getting dressed up and going to work and dealing with the public.



That’s where I am at now. I can’t do what I did today. I let my sour mood bring out the worst in my personality and I posted a very negative blog. There are more than enough blogs that complain about everything, mine certainly isn’t going to make a difference. Besides, the things I complain about are like pissing in the wind. It all comes back on me.



Thus tomorrow I will get out, even if it is for a ride to visit my friend who lives in the woods on the outskirts of Georgetown. Maybe I’ll just take a ride to the end of Long Neck Road and sit in my car and look at the bay. I have to do something to get out of the house and not let my negative feelings overtake me. I am better than that.

Feeding the Seagulls

Yesterday when I was at the Walmart in Rehoboth Beach I noticed a gaggle of seagulls hunched down by the fast food restaurants trying to stay warm. That reminded me that I had some food to get rid of. I had two different types of cinnamon flavored cereals and a weird flavored bag of Doritos chips that didn’t agree with my taste buds. Fortunately seagulls aren’t as touchy as I am about food. So, first thing this morning I was off down Route 1, fighting the sun glare to sprinkle my unwanted food to the freezing sea gulls. As the pictures attests, they were most appreciative.

This is Day Ten of the New Year and I am making great progress in unpacking, sorting, organizing and tossing out what remained of my packed items from my move down here in November of 2006.  I still have a long way to go. I must admit I do feel better having finally broken the logjam and my inertia. A box I unpacked yesterday was one I had packed from my previous move from Philadelphia to Downingtown in 1980. Wow. Now you know I didn’t need those items. But I’m keeping them anyway. Two of the items were Disneyworld figurines. One was Goofy (my favorite) and the other “Lady” of Lady and the Tramp. I placed them, along with my other kotchkees, in my bookcase. I do not depart with my knick knacks. This is a trait in inherited from my Mother. When I’m dead and gone someone can come in here and have a fabulous estate sale like my great aunt Grace had when she died. I still have some of her stuff. But for now I'm keeping all these dust collectors.



Last night I wanted to relax to a good movie. Lately I’ve went through a string of God awful movies from Netflix.



Friday night I watched “The Woodsman” with Kevin Bacon. I couldn’t watch the whole thing. It’s about a child predator. Really? Is this entertainment? And Kevin Bacon? A wannabe Sean Penn. Kevin has a certain charm but I have yet to find it. And to top it off his real life wife Kyra Sedgwick played his love interest. While Kyra is a fine and interesting actress, did I really want to watch Kev and Kyra sucking on each other’s face and wriggling and moaning naked in bed? This is entertainment? And it was downright creepy watching Kevin’s character ogling the young schoolgirls on the bus he took to work. I bailed out when he followed one into the park where she was bird watching? This is entertainment?



Last night I tried to watch something called “The Frozen River.” It was supposedly the recipient of all kinds of “independent” award. Just what is an “independent” award anyway? This was another dreary, depressing movie about a Mom trying to support her two young sons near the Canadian border. She accidently stumbles into smuggling Chinese across the border. Sounds like an interesting premise but man oh man. The acting was atrocious, especially the Mohawk Indian woman who introduced the Mom into smuggling. Somebody was kidding themselves into thinking this was avant-garde. Something else I don’t understand. What’s with all the smoking? I don’t know, maybe I was in a bad mood. One thing was for sure, I wasn’t in the mood for either one of these movies.



The next Netflix movie on my agenda is “The Proposal” with Sandra Bullock. I need to see a movie that makes me laugh and not get me depressed.



I find that since renting movies from Netflix my tastes seem to go from a good murder mystery, historical dramas, suburbia slice of life situations, and romantic comedies (as long as they aren’t too ridiculous.) What I don’t like are slasher movies with buckets of blood and gore (that’s entertainment?), depressing documentaries (I can look all around my real life for drama and depression if I feel the need to get depressed) and animated cartoons. Sorry, I’m not a cartoon person, three D or not.



I have several projects I’ve been putting off that I probably should get to since I now am in full time retirement. One I converting my VHS tapes to a DVD format. That should be very interesting. The other is to figure out how to transfer my Palm data base from my old computer with a Windows XP to my new computer (the one I’m on now) with Windows Vista. As luck would have it I was one of those fools who bought a new computer with Windows Vista, which I’ve had nothing but frustration and problems with ever since I got it. I was also one of the “fortunate” few who bought a new computer with Windows Me. Remember that baby? I had to finally give the computer away because I couldn’t get it to work no how, no way. Even though I had “premium support” with Dell, it was all for naught. So why would I go and buy a new Dell computer with Windows Vista? Oh I don’t know, maybe I’m a glutton for punishment or maybe I didn’t believe that Mr. Softee (Bill Gates himself) could fool me twice. What was it that our former president Double You said?



“ Fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again.” George W. Bush



I probably shouldn’t admit it, but I do miss that clown.



By the way, I know I’m not following the rule of writing a good blog. Keep it on subject and be concise. As you notice, I write whatever comes into my mind. Hopefully it is of some interest to the reader. I know it makes me feel better writing about it. Right now I’m in a down mood. Maybe it’s the weather. These cold, short days of winter aren’t my favorite time of year. I like the long, warm, days of summer. I know those days are coming. That’s what keeps me going.

Reevaluation

The past few weeks have presented new challenges to me.  I will be reevaluating my situation and decide how I want to proceed.  Even though I may not be posting to my blog as often as I have in the past I want my friends to know that I appeciate and value their friendship.  I ask their patience while I look for a way out of this valley I am in at this time. 

I have much in my life for which I am thankful. 

Depression

“..a mental state characterized by a pessimistic sense of inadequacy and a despondent lack of activity...”




Depression is indirectly the reason I live in Delaware. A longtime friend of mine suffered from depression when he worked in Philadelphia. He was depressed because he was living a life his mother wanted him to live. He had the white collar corporate job his mother expected of him. He kept his homosexuality in the closet, because he didn’t want to disappoint his mother. He was living his life as his mother expected him to live it. He was desperately unhappy. He was depressed.



To alleviate his depression he searched for a property far enough away from home where he could get away from his depression and the oppression of living his life as his mother expected him to live his life. He found a place in Sussex County, Delaware. The property was twenty-two acres of scrub woodland several miles on the outskirts of Georgetown, Delaware.



He bought a used single-wide mobile home that had seen better days. His new home didn’t have running water and was in the middle of nowhere. His real estate agent had told him “You’ll never see another house on this road in your lifetime.” None of that mattered to him. What mattered was that he now had the freedom to live without his mother constantly setting up dates with “nice girls” or asking him when he was going to get married. He had freedom. He could live as he pleased, even if only on the weekends or days off from his job in Philadelphia.



The only problem was that he continued to have his job in Philadelphia. During the week he would commute to Philadelphia from his home from a western suburb of Philadelphia. At the end of the day he said he could hardly move his legs walking into his house where he lived with his mother. Sometimes she would have a picture of a “nice girl” on the television and the girl’s phone number for him to call to make a date. He would collapse on the living room couch, exhausted.



His only release was the freedom he had when he would go to his home in Delaware. However, he was still depressed because he knew he was still trapped. He sought release through drinking binges. He would get plastered on the weekends at his place in Delaware. He drank to deal with his depression because he knew he was still trapped in a “lifestyle” someone else had dictated for him. He continued this cycle for many years until he decided to cut all ties to his previous life. He moved permanently to his single-wide in the hinterlands of Sussex County in 1984. His depression left and he gave up his drinking. Although he didn’t have much money, his life improved immediately. He had freedom.



He was my best friend I visited him often at his new home in Delaware. I was also in the trap of the corporate job in Philadelphia that I grew to dislike after the many bank mergers. However, I didn’t have the oppression of my Mother trying to get me married off because I came out with my homosexuality in 1964. I made the decision at that time to no longer live my life as others thought I should live my life. However, I was in a relationship that I had to needed a break from occasionally.



It was during those visits that I grew to love Delaware. Other friends would also visit my friend at his black and white, single wide trailer that didn’t have running water. We peed out the back door and took the Number Two in a brown grocery bag and threw it out in the woods.



At that time in the late 70’s there was the beginning of a growing gay presence in the Rehoboth Beach area. We all would look forward to those weekends at “The Ranch” (the tongue in cheek name we gave our friend’s single-wide.) We enjoyed the freedom just to be ourselves. While we all enjoyed going out to the local gay bars the camaraderie among friends was probably more enjoyable. My friend was no longer depressed. He threw off the yoke of oppression that is living up to someone else’s expectations of how someone else should live your life.



Those years I visited my friend I often thought I would like to someday move to Delaware. I’ve always liked living near the ocean and I wanted to live in wide open spaces. The flat coastal plains of Sussex County, Delaware were very appealing to me. The growing gay community around the Rehoboth Beach area was also a factor. While I loved the rolling hills and winding roads of Pennsylvania, the homophobic attitude of some my neighbors and the high taxes eventually drove me from living in a conservative suburb of Pennsylvania.



Thus, it was during a visit to my friend in November of 2005 when I looked at a model house that I decided to move to Delaware. Although selling my house and the move was traumatic I have never regretted moving to Delaware. That’s not to say that the past three years since I lived in Delaware has been smooth, it hasn’t. But never once, not once during that period have I been depressed.



I think the major source of depression is the feeling that you are trapped. It is the feeling that everything is closing in on you.



I have another good friend whom I have known many years. Recently he has been sinking into depression. His situation is different. He has a job that he likes but management has changed and his integrity is being questioned. He works in an upscale clothing store unloading stock. He loves his job. It was part-time. His co-workers like him and he likes them. However, since the economy has taken a downtown, the new management is placing some of the blame on staff. Hours are being changed, new jobs are being assigned including one which he doesn’t like, cashier. He doesn’t want to be a cashier. Now he is required to have someone accompany him to the dumpster when he takes out his flattened out cardboard boxes. When he leaves work he has to leave with his pockets pulled inside out. He feels trapped. He is depressed.



Other people in my life are depressed. My Mother is depressed. My new found blog friend from Scotland is depressed. A long time friend of mine who I worked with at my job in Philadelphia was so depressed she went into her ten year old daughter’s bedroom and blew her brains out. I can’t help but think that the main cause of depression is a chemical imbalance in the brain. I have come to this conclusion because I have other friends who have had very traumatic things happen in their life yet they remain upbeat and optimistic. I will write about these friends in future blog posting on this subject.

Wolves and Sheep

Yesterday’s spring like temperatures was one of those special wintertime treats that happen every now and then. After I finished checking my e-mails and posting my blog yesterday morning, I treated myself to a brisk walk on the wide and solitary roads in the development behind where I live. There is nothing like a relaxing walk in the fresh air and blue skies to invigorate me for the rest of the day. Most of all my stress and worry melts away. It’s magic. And it’s free.

Not so today. As I type this, snow is tiny white snowflakes are falling from the gray morning sky onto the winter grass outside my window. This retiree won’t be going out today. I don’t have to go out until tomorrow. I’m scheduled to take a test applying for a census taker job. Ironically, I will take the test at my workplace. The owner of the hotel has donated one of his meeting rooms for the prospective census employees to take their test. Very convenient.

Bill continues to shun me. It’s not easy on me (or him I suspect) but he’s painted himself into this corner. He has to get out of it himself. So we continue to live in the same house, leading our separate lives. He has now cut off his family, my Mother, my brother, our friend Ed, his friend Damon, and now me. It is a sad and unfortunate way to live.

It’s ironic, but the original incidents that cause the episodes are often forgotten. One that I still remember clearly is when I didn’t close the basement door all the way. Oh it was closed and locked but it wasn’t AIR LOCKED. I didn’t leave the door open. I didn’t leave the door unlocked. I didn’t AIR LOCK the door. Sometimes I feel like I’m walking on egg shells. One of the reasons I moved from our Pennsylvania house was because Bill had this whole system of which doors were to be closed and which ones were allowed to be left open. I felt like a rat in a maze, trying to figure which room I was allowed to be in to keep warm. I didn’t feel comfortable in my own home. This house has an open floor plan. I no longer had to worry about closing this door, and leaving another door open depending on what the temperature was outside. I could move about freely in my own home. It was wonderful. Of course Bill did want to partition off the open floor plan of the kitchen, sun room and living room. I knocked down that plan right away. No more living like a rat in a cubicle.

The plan today is to hang out inside catching up on my e-mails. A distant relative from the Rhudy side of my family tree discovered me on the Internet and has been sending me family information from her line. Perhaps my favorite pastime at this time of my life is my genealogy research. I have met so many wonderful people through my Tipton Tales and Trails blog and my Find a Grave postings. They are my pleasure and happiness these days. I can depend on their friendship. They help me keep my sanity in these stressful times.

Some years ago when I first got on the Internet I tried to find friends through the personals. That was a disaster. Every person I met, without exception was a fraud and phony. Everyone who I either communicated with by e-mail or met in person was not who they represented themselves to be. I blame myself because I didn’t realize these people were looking for anonymous sexual encounters. I was incredibly stupid to believe the personal ads.

A good friend of mine long ago told me “Ron, your only problem is that you suffer from terminal naiveté.” I’ve always remembered that friendly admonishment. It is true. No matter how old I get, I still believe what I’m told until proven wrong. I have tried to be cynical and suspicious (like most of my friends) but I’m just not hard wired that way. For a long time now I realized that the world is full of two kinds of people. There are those who throw trash out their window on the roadway, knowing someone else will pick it up. Then there are those who pick up the trash. There are those who would return a wallet then found on the beach and there are those who would look for the cash and throw the wallet away. There are those who would help an injured animal on the roadway and there are those who would run over it. I can cite numerous analogies but the point I am making is that the world is full of wolves and sheep. Unfortunately I am one of the sheep. I live my life constantly on guard to protect myself from the wolves. However, I have been fortunate that during my life’s journey, I have met other like me. The older I get the more I can tell the difference between who is a wolf and who is a good, kind, gentle and caring soul. Call me naïve, but that knowledge about who my true friends are and who is a wolf in sheep's clothing keeps me going in this world. I know the difference.

The Line of Beauty

Monday, February 2, 2009. The morning sun steams through my home office window. I like working in this little bedroom that I converted in a home office. The early morning sun is a welcome friend as I begin my day checking my e-mail. That is the one constant in my life; my home, my computer, and light. I thrive on natural light.

I don’t like working on my computer at night, when all is dark. My home office in Pennsylvania was in a basement room. I couldn't work there. Bill took out the lone window when he put up the paneling in that room. The lack of natural light depressed me. I moved my computer to a corner of my 2nd floor bedroom, next to the window. Filtered light came through the trees that surrounded our house. It was better than no light in the basement office but not as good as the early morning sunlight which I have now. I love my home office in this house. It is my retreat.

The past weekend was quiet. Bill is still shunning me. That’s his choice. Apparently that’s the way he wants to live his life. I’ll adjust my life accordingly. I tried to talk to him after “the incident” but he told me to leave him alone. I will honor his request. I'm here if he wants to resume a normal relationship. However, if he want to add me to the list of people he isn't talking too, then that is his choice. I can only live my life. I'm at the point in my life now where I don't want to and probably can't change my life to please someone else. I can only be who I am. If that isn't good enough, then so be it.

Early in the morning yesterday I took more food from my freezer to feed the sea gulls in the Wal-Mart parking lot. They were waiting for me. I quickly threw the food on the ground and tossed my Zip-Lock bags in the dumpster behind Friendly’s and got out of there fast. I didn’t want any more sea gull guacamole on my car. Now I have a new worry. A friend of mine told me that I could be arrested and led away in handcuffs for tossing ANYTHING into a dumpster. This was a crime I wasn’t aware that I was breaking. Pardon me, but I assumed that our law enforcement had more important things to worry about like, oh I don’t know, maybe robberies and murders. We have a couple unsolved murders down here in our own little Peyton Place. The two that come to mind are the Grosso murder and the Gold Gym murder. But I will take the advice of my friend and NOT toss anything in a dumpster. I have been forewarned.

Yesterday afternoon I did my taxes for last year. I was surprised to find out that I owed $638. I also owed money last year, so I increased the taxes taken out of my pay from my part-time job. I was expecting to get a refund this year. That was not to be. It’s not like I make a lot of money. I receive Social Security and have a couple of small pensions and a part time job. I now have a mortgage because of the nightmare of selling my Pennsylvania house in 2006. I’m not one of these rich gay guys, in spite of the myth that the new media likes to perpetuate. Under the law I am considered single even though I’ve been in a relationship for 45 years. In this country, if you’re single, gay or straight, you’re taxed to death. Another year and I missed out on the Bush tax cuts. And I'm not holding by breath for the tax cuts Obama promised during the election. Once these politicians get in office all they seem to care about is the very rich (Republicans) or the very poor (Democrats.) I'm just one of those schlubs who worked their whole life, trying to save for a secure retirement only to see it slowly disappear as a result of the corruption of greedy Wall Street financiers and their hand maidens, the equally corrupt politicians whose only interest is to pay off their political benefactors to stay in power.

Last night I saw a good movie that I rented from Netflix, “The Line of Beauty.” I love these BBC dramas. This one was about a working-class guy (gay) who moves in with a rich family in the 80’s during his sexual awaking and England’s political awakening. The main character was unappealing and much of the acting was uneven, but it was an interesting story nonetheless because it showed the utter depravity that some people can sink to even in surrounds of opulence and luxury. Maybe it’s better being poor. If this movie was anywhere near reality, then the rich don’t have it any better than the rest of us poor blokes.

I am watching more movies these days since I’m living here alone. Movies perform the function for which they were invented. They take me away from my everyday sadness. I hope my next movie is a comedy. I need to laugh.

I go to work today at the Inn. That will take my mind off of things a bit. Wednesday I take my Census worker qualification test. My friend Ed, who was a census worker in 2000 told me “Any idiot can pass that test.” He proved it. He passed it. Coincidentally I take the test at my workplace. That’s convenient.

Saturday and Sunday I took a walk in the development behind me. Watching the snow geese fly above me and hearing the busy chirping of the birds in the brush is very soothing. I’m like a wound up knot. Seeing the Canada geese on the retention pond relaxes me like no pill can. During these bad times I find a walk is the best medicine. I need to take one everyday.

For dinner last night I made Chicken Marabella. The aroma of the dish baking in the oven filled the house with warmth and comfort. I made enough to last me all week. I also made my signature Tarragon Potato Salad with red potatoes, red onions, celery, lime mayonnaise and LOTS of tarragon. This is a recipe I adapted from a Nage potato salad that was leftover from an Inn function. The Chicken Marabella is a recipe I discovered when a friend brought a covered dish to a house party recently. Just goes to show you it is good to get out and experience the world. When you least expect it, something good happens. That’s what keeps me going.

Saturday Morning

A cold, sunny, Saturday morning, this last day of January 2009 was waiting for me one this first day of the last day of my life. For the second consecutive week Bill and I would not have breakfast at Zorba’s restaurant in Rehoboth Beach. Johnnie (our regular waitress) no doubt is wondering what happen to the two old gay geezers who stop in every Saturday morning. The cook won’t be frying scrapple for me or Bill’s egg sandwich with a double order of mayonnaise. No, Week Two continues of this “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf” game that Bill likes to play. The first time I saw that Edward Albee play I knew I recognized the plot line. “Something is familiar about this story” I thought to myself. It was only when I found out that Edward Albee “straightened out the play” that I recognized the gay relationship the play was based on and the sometimes twisted and cruel turns it takes which, is in reality two people who care very much for one another. I care very much for Bill and if this is what it takes, so be it.

Even though Bill and I wouldn’t be doing our weekly breakfast at Zorba’s, I thought I would get out anyway. I had some old food in the refrigerator that I had to get rid of. The parking lot of Wal-Mart in Rehoboth always has a contingent of sea gulls hanging around the back of the fast food junk palaces; patiently awaiting any leftovers that Chi-Chi’s, Friendly’s or Wendy’s throw in their dumpsters located behind them. As soon as my red Subaru rolled to a stop behind Wendy’s dumpster, the sea gulls screeched and flocked around my car. Quick! I threw out the food and got out of there fast before one of them left a Thank You deposit on my newly washed and waxed car. No good deed go unpunished in this world.

Then it was off to Giant. Giant is the closest supermarket that Rehoboth Beach has to Wegmans. While it has a long way to go to equal Wegmans, it’s not bad. The store is clean, offers a wide variety of products, and has a high percentage of gay shoppers. Who knows? Maybe I could “accidentally” meet someone who would help me out of my loneliness. Unlikely, but it is possible. At my age, I don’t want to meet someone young because they would only be looking for a sugar daddy. Been there, done that. That’s a dead end street which only causes a lot of angst. I’m not looking for a sexual encounter (are you kidding?) My hormone level left years ago. I’m not interested in any of that activity.

It would be nice to meet someone who has similar interests as I do. All the years I’ve been coming down here and living here for the past two years, I have yet to meet anyone who likes genealogy or taking digital pictures. I’ve given up. It’s sort of like playing the Powerball. I’ve played it for years. The most I’ve ever won is $7.00 (big whoop) While I know it is very unlikely that I will ever win more than $7.00, I keep playing because there is that slight chance that I may win the big prize. I'll even take the $200,000. After taxes I could still pay off my mortgage. However, I’m not pinning all of my hopes on winning but I do like to stay in the game. There is always that chance. You gotta have hope. It’s the same with getting out there and mixing it up. You just never know.

On the way home I stopped at the inn where I work. Last Thursday I was talking to a guest from Australia. She said she wanted to get some black beans to take back home because she couldn’t get black beans in Australia. I had a can of Black Bean Progresso soup. I dropped the can off at the front desk with Blare and asked her to give it to the guest from Australia.

It is not even 10 o'clock yet this morning, but I feel that I have had a worthwhile day. I fed the seagulls and gave Mrs. Stewart her black beans. Mission accomplished. I can have another day on this earth. The beat goes on.