Annual Road Trip South - Day Three

The view from Fairview Cemetery

Today turned out surprisingly well.  Bill and I spent the day with my cousin Bob and his wife Marie in the area of the western North Carolina mountains where our fathers were born.  Our father's left North Carolina with their seven brothers (two more were born in Pennsylvania) in the late 1920's with their parents to work on their uncle's farm in southeastern Pennsylvania.

My cousin Bob and his wife Marie today in the mountains

Bob and I still have cousins in the area (which I will not specifically mention for reasons which will become obvious later on in this post) that we had planned to visit.  In previous visits I had made contract with the husband of my cousin (my grandfather and her grandmother were brother and sister) that we were coming down for a visit.  Monday night, while I was having dinner at a local Mexican restaurant (I posted a video of that dinner in my last post) I called my cousin's house just to confirm that we were coming over tomorrow (today).  The son answered the phone.  I asked him if it was alright if we visited them tomorrow.  He said "I have a question to ask you." I said "Alright." He said "There is a rumor that you practice a gay lifestyle.  Is that true?" I said "If you're asking if I am gay, yes I am." He said "Listen and listen good, I don't want you ever to step foot on my our property and if you do you'll have me to deal with.  You got that bud?" 

I'll be honest with you folks, I got that old sick feeling in my stomach.  No matter how many times I have encountered this homophobia with the veiled threats in my lifetime, it never gets any easier.  In fact a chill went through my whole body.  Again, I felt "less than."  This timing of this latest homophobia thrown at me was ironic because I just testified last week before the Delaware state legislature about enduring discrimination, harassment, intimidation and threats of physical violence just for who I am.  Not because of any so called chosen "lifestyle" but simply because of who I am.  It never goes away.  

Even as I type these words now it makes me feel sick to my stomach.  I am so tired, just tired of this hate.  What did I ever do to those people?  

I hung up my iPhone and told my cousin and his wife what happened.  I told them that we wouldn't be visiting my cousin.  A cousin that Bob and his wife drove five hours to see. A cousin that Bill and I drove 12 hours to see.  Because of my "lifestyle" I am not to set foot on this man's property.  

My cousin told me "We can still go to the road, he doesn't own the road or that area."  I had also wanted to show my cousin where our great-great grandfather John Tipton, who was killed in the civil war, was buried.  My cousin told me "Put him out of your mind, we're going to visit that cemetery anyway."  And we did that today.  

I called my brother John, who has rented a cabin just up the road from said cousin who just told me to never set foot on his property.  John told me the same thing.  He said "They're very clannish up there (and indeed they are ) and just put him out of your mind and enjoy your day." John said he probably wouldn't be going back.  I apologized to him for "tainting" him.  He said "Don't worry about it Ronnie, I wasn't feeling too comfortable the last time (Christmas) that we were up there."

 Bill was very upset when I told him about the phone conversation.  Bill hates confrontations like this.  I do to but I'm not going to lie or go into the closet about who I am.  I don't wave the rainbow flag in anyone's face but I don't lie about who I am.  When something like this happens to me, as it has so often in my life, Bill says "See the trouble you caused?"  But folks I just can't lie.  I am not ashamed of who I am.  It is the other people who have the problem.  

I know when I was giving my testimony at the Delaware State Legislature there were more than a few who probably thought I was exaggerating about living a life of fear.  Well folks, I wasn't exaggerating and it still happens, even in this "enlightened" day and age.  There is a lot I can say about where it happened but I'm not going to go there.  But what I can say, is that we did go up there today.  We had perfect weather.  We enjoyed ourselves by visiting a local general store, a beautiful cemetery on the top of a high hill with a beautiful view of the far off mountains, and just a good ride around the area of those beautiful mountains where our fathers were born and spent the first few years of their lives.  What saddens me is that in such a beautiful area of the country there is still this unbridled well of hate and ignorance.  

Bill and me today

The Paths We Chose In Life

Young man watering plants next to the Henlopen Hotel this morning in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware

This morning during my daily walk on the boardwalk in Rehoboth I passed again this young man watering the plants next to the Henlopen Hotel at the end of the boardwalk.

I think I mentioned him in a previous blog.  Many years ago when I used to vacation in Provincetown, Massachusetts I saw a similar young man watering the flowers around the bed and breakfast hotel where he worked.  The first time I saw that young man I thought that could of been me if I had chosen a different path in life.

Provincetown, Cape Cod, Massachusetts - 1980

I could have chosen the "gay lifestyle" path of a party-all-the-time, carefree life.  In fact I had the opportunity to chose that lifestyle when on one occasion when the owner of the bed and breakfast where I usually stayed offered me a job managing her crew of six young men who cleaned her apartments.  At that time I had a prestigious, secure and well paying job at Girard Bank in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Me in Provincetown, Massachusetts when I was offered the job - 1980

I was flattered by her offer and briefly considered it even to the point of asking "What would I do during the off season?"  She told me that I would make enough money in season to take the winter months off and spend it in Key West, Florida or, like her, Mexico.  This offer of a chance to change my path in life sounded exciting, exotic and adventurism.  I told her I would think about it and when I got home I told my partner Bill about the offer.  His response was "Are you crazy?"  

"Angels' Landing" - a rental complex in the center of Provincetown where I was offered the head housekeeper job- which was managing a group of young guys who cleaned the aparttments

Well, I always have been impetuous but my common sense usually takes over.  In this case my common sense won out.  I called Angela Calamoris (the women who offered me the job) and told her "Thanks but no thanks."  She said if I ever changed my mind to let her know.

Oh it was tantalizing, believe me.  Over the years since I've often thought how my life would have changed had I taken her up on her generous job offer.  But I went for the sure thing and kept my "secure" job at the bank.

A few years later, after I returned from a three week vacation in Provincetown, my boss at the bank called me into his office.  He told me my job was being eliminated.

I called Angela back and told her I could take her job now.  She was gone.  I was told Angela had sold her large complex called "Angels' Landing" for a million dollars.  She always told me she was going to sell it for that amount of money.  Much to my surprise, she did.  Angela was now living The Life in Mexico.

Who knows?  If I had taken her up on her offer I could now probably be the proud owner of a premier summertime resort rental complex located in the heart of a popular East Coast gay resort.

Today I live in another popular East Coast gay resort.  I work part-time at a gay owned bed and breakfast. I love my job.  I don't water the plants (a woman named Kerri does that.)  I work the front desk.  I love my job.

With some of my co-workers at out Christmas Party last year - I work with the ladies now

Karma.  It's wonderful isn't it?

Now if you will excuse me, I have to get ready for work.  Someone has to do it.

My First Love

Bob's letter to me after he left Philadelphia 

Forty seven years ago at an after hours gay dance club in Philadelphia I met Bob.  Bob was 29 years old and recently relocated (with his wife and two children) from Washington state to Philadelphia, PA by his employer Boeing Aircraft. 

Across the smoke filled room on the crowded dance floor I saw him dancing.  He was dressed in a light colored (I think gray) suit which was unusual dress for the patrons of the Pennrose Club.  Most of the men in the club were dressed casually.  But his suit isn't what caught attracted caught my eye.  What attracted my attention was him.  He stood out from the mass of young men on the crowded dance floor. He was slightly built (maybe 5'7", about 130 lbs), dark short hair, square jaw, flashing, mischievious black eyes and a dazzling smile.  I was a goner once he looked at me with those flashing dark eyes and his open and friendly smile.  He was looking just a me.

Bob Surina - the only picture I have of him - an old yellowed newspaper clipping

Sitting at the bar with my friends Ron and Ed I thought to myself  "Wow!  That is one nice looking guy."  I turned around from the dance floor and told my friends about this "knockout" that I saw on the dance floor.  Much to my surprise after the music stopped I felt a tap on my shoulder.  I turned and it was him!  The dazzling guy in the suit on the dance floor who I was admiring earlier.  He asked me if I wanted to dance.  I was a bit tongue tied but I did manage to blurt out "Yes!"  He led me by the hand (a curious sight in retrospect because I was much taller - 6'3" than him) to the dance floor.  A slow song was playing.  He put his right hand in my left hand and his other hand in the small of my back and started to lead.  It was natural for him to lead.  Not because he was older (29 years to my 21 years) but because he was just that type of guy.  He was a take charge, masculine, yet genle man who obviously saw me looking at him and decided to take advantage of the opportunity.

As I wrote in a previous blog posting, dancing with him was pure heaven.  I never felt such joy before in my short life.  I knew then and there the pure sensual thrill of dancing with someone who you find very sexually attractive and who had that extra "something" and Bob had "it" in spades.  This guy literally took my breath away.  Dancing with him I was in another world.  Of course it didn't take long before I realize we were both aroused.  Wow.  I had never experienced anything like this before.

I have written about this experience before but I write it again because something has changed.  A few months after I posted that blog (April of this year) , I heard from one of his children by e-mail.  I was both surprised and thrilled.  Over the many years since that fateful night of that I met Bob for the first time, I  always wondered what happened to him after our affair in 1963-1964.  Last week I received an e-mail from his son informing me what happened to his dad, my lover of 47 years ago.  That e-mail from his son caused me to reawaken all my memories of Bob Surina all those years ago.

Me in my apartment in Coatesville, PA 1963 - the time I was seeing Bob

Much has happened in my life in the past 47 years.  My memories of my magical time with this wonderful man had receded far into my past.  Much of the detail I had forgotten.  But now this sleeping giant of my very first love has been reawakened.

I had ended my relationship with Bob because he was married and had children.  As much as I loved him I did not want to start out my life as a "mistress" to a married man.  Had Bob been single we would have probably been lifetime partners.  I was totally in love with him as he was with me.  But back then, Bob had a family.  I didn't ask him to leave is family nor did he offer to leave them.  He would make the long trip from where he lived in Philadelphia with his family to where I had a small efficiency apartment in a small town 37 miles west of Philadelphia.  He made that trip almost every Saturday morning or whenever else he could grab a few hours to be with me.  When we were together it was like heaven.  I never knew such joy as when I was with Bob.  He was sweet, gentle, kind and above all, very, very sexy.  He had a wonderful sense of humor.  I had never experienced such happiness before in my life as I had those few short hours each Saturday morning that I used to spend with Bob. I loved spending time with him.  I could tell he liked to be with me too because when we were together the outside world didn't matter.  I finally found out what love meant.  All those lyrics to love songs now made sense to me.  They now had meaning for me because we were both in love.

I eargerly looked forward to Bob's visits.  I lived for Bob's visits.  However, over time I wanted to do more than just stay in my apartment.  I wanted to go out.  I was 21 years old and I was afraid I was missing something.  Of course, now with the wisdom of time, I look back in retrospect and realize how foolish I was.   The ignorance and selfishness of youth.  I had both qualities in abundance I am ashamed to admit.

I eventually ended my relationship with Bob.  I knew I hurt him by doing this.  I guess I was selfish because I wanted him all to myself but I knew this could never be.  He had a wife and three small children.  Back then in the early Sixties, whem homosexuality was such a taboo subject treated with fear and paranoia, a man leaving his family (with children) for another man was unheard of.  I never considered asking him to chose a life with me over his family.  I was young and full of hope and confident I would meet someone who I liked as much as Bob and who was single.  Some I could live my life with until the end of my time on this earth.  I did meet that man the following year in July.  His name is Bill and last week we celebrated our 46th year together. 

However, over the years I've often wondered what happened to my first love, Bob.  His son told me that his father and mother eventually divorced and Bob married again and had three more children.  His son also told me that Bob had two children from a previous marriage.  That meant my Bob had a total of eight children during his lifetime.  Wow.  He also told me that Bob died of emphysema (he smoked 3 1/2 packs of Salem cigaretts a day.)  He said Bob also drank prodigious amounts of coffee.  That was Bob, a bundle of high energy.   I guess he felt he need a lot of stimulants to maintain his fast paced lifestyle.

His son also told me that his mother wrote a book about her marriage to Bob.  He said I might find the book interesting but warned me that it didn't paint a flattering picture of his father.  I went on Amazon.com and ordered the book, "I Love You This Much".  I'm reading the book now.  His son was right, his former wife does not paint a flattering picture of Bob.  In fact, the picure she paints of Bob is of a man I did not know.  I don't know whether or not to believe her and her portrayal of Bob.  The "Black Devil" she describes in the book is so unlike the sweet, kind, caring and loving man that I knew all those years ago.  What really blew my mind was the time period she is writing about is the same time period Bob and I were seeing each other.  It is so eerie to read her physical description of Bob with his pale skin that she could see the blue veins on thes side of his forehead because those are the same blue veins I saw.  She describes his "mischievious dark eyes."  Those are the same eyes that I saw.  She speaks of his charisma which he had in abundance.  Bob could charm the pants off of just about anybody and he did me (literally.)

But this mean and vindictive man she consistently describes in her book is a man I don't recognize.  I understand that she knew Bob much longer than me but I think some of her anger comes from a woman deceived.  She felt betrayed. I don't blame her for feeling that way.  But look at Bob's position.  He wanted the All American Family and yet he was a homosexual, living a double life.  The torment this poor man must have went though.  I never had a hint of what he was going through when we spent those many happy hours together in each other's company at my small apartment in Coatesville, PA.

Something strange has happened to me from having my memories of Bob revived and from reading his former wife's book.  I now feel very, very sad for Bob.  My last communiction with Bob was in March of 1964.  He wrote to me from the bowling alley he was managing in Tacoma, Washington.  He told me when he received my letter his first impulse was to "hop on a plane" and fly to Pennsylvania to be with me.  In his second letter he asked me to move to Tacoma, Washington.  He said he had a "lot of money" and would see to it that I "had as much as you have now."  He said that if I couldn't move to Tacoma, then he would send me round trip plane tickets to visit him in the fall during my vacation.  He wanted me to check out the area and make a decision as to whether or not to move to Tacoma.  Of course at that time my mindset was that I would never get involved with a married man. What kind of life would we lead? I would be his mistress again.  I wanted a life for us together.  This was impossibile because he had a family.  It was out of the question.  I didn't go to Tacoma.  I don't even remember if I responded to his plea.  I just didn't go. By this time I had met someone new (Jim) and was busy with my new life.  Jim was single (lived at home with his Mom) and visited me all weekend as occasionally on weekdays.  I liked Jim but I wasn't as head over heels in love with him as I was Bob but I attributed those feelings to the fact that Bob was my first love.  Again, the folly and foolishness and naiveté of youth.  I had no lack of those qualities at that time (still do in many respects I have to admit.)

Much has happened since that time in the spring of 1964.  I broke up with Jim because he was too possessive.  I met Bill in July of 1964.  Bill lived in New Jersey.  He would come out to my apartment in Coatesville and pick me up and take me to his apartment in Pennsuaken, New Jersey to spend the weekends.  At the end of the weekend he would make the round trip to take me back to my apartment in Coatesville, PA and return to his apartment in Pennsauken, NJ.  Looking back on those times I must have been a pretty desirable boyfriend to receive all that attention.  But I digress.

In December of that year (1964) Bill asked me to move in with him.  I was reluctant because I didn't want to be tied down.  I was still young and I wanted to go out and meet people.  Bill said I could still go out but just keep my activities discreet.  He said it was pointless to try and restrict a young guy who was just starting out in life.  He told me I would eventually tire of the bar scene (which I did some years later.) We had an open relationship.  We were realistic.  We loved each other.  We didn't have to prove anything to anybody.  We knew that.

After I got a job at a center city Philadelphia bank in February of 1965 I moved out of Coatesville and in with my new lover Bill.  Bill and I eventually moved to Philadelphia.  We lived a few years in Roxborough then we moved to center city Philadelphia for eleven years.  I went out often to the gay bars and clubs.  Sometimes I went with Bill and sometimes I went alone.  I vacationed often at the gay Mecca of the East Coast, Provincetown, Massachusetts.  I met many guys over those years.  Some I had brief relationships  and some I just became friends.  I experienced much.  Much happiness, some sadness.  I didn't miss much.  I saw many of my friends die of AIDS related illnesses.

Me in Provincetown, Mass sometime in the 1970's

In 1980 I had enough of the big city gay lifestyle.  I wanted a quieter existence in the country with Bill.  We sold our house in center city and moved to the country in the suburbs of Philadelphia.  Actually, we didn't live too far from that efficiency apartment I had in Coatesville, PA. We also lived near my parents. I wanted to be around during their advancing years to help them if needed.

Bill and I lived in our "country house" on 7 acres of wooded land with our three Pomeranian dogs, Horace, "T" and "Babydoll" .  We lived there for 25 years.  In November of 2006 we sold our house and retired to Delaware, where the taxes are cheaper.  In all those years, there probably wasn't a time that went by that I didn't think of Bob and how his life turned out. 

Then one night,during a slow period at my hotel front desk job,  I was researching Ancestry.com on the Internet for my genealogy records.  I was checking the Social Security Death Index to get the dates of when some of my relatives died.  The thought came to me to check to see if Bob, my first love,  was on the Social Security Death Index.  His name would be easy to look up because it wasn't a common name.  I put in his name "Robert Surina."  To my surprise his name came up immediately. 

Robert Donald Surina

7 Jul 1933

20 Jun 1990

A wave of sadness immediately swept over me.  Bob was gone.  He had been gone for almost twenty years.  Then I thought of all those years while he was still alive.  Those years that I was so involved in my life that I didn't even have a moment to give him an call and ask him how he was doing.  Oh how I regret now that I didn't call him.  I know he would have been glad to hear me as I would him.  I close my eyes and I can hear his voice now.  I can see his knowing, mischievous smile.  It just breaks my heart to think of him and that I will never, never see or hear him again.  Gone.  Gone forever.

I'm not a religious person but I do consider myself to be somewhat of a spiritual person.  I'm not even sure what "spiritual" means.  But I do feel that perhaps someday I will see Bob again.  I am reminded of the movie Robin Williams made some years ago.  It was called "What Dreams May Come."  Robin Williams' character goes to heaven.  He discovers that all the religions are in heaven.  Everyone.  You can be whatever you want to be in heaven.  Whatever form, whatever age you prefer.  You can stay in heaven as long as you want before you are reincarnated back to earth as a newborn child.  To me this make emminently more sense that much our our obedience based organized religion teachings on earth. 

Now I'm going to say something really crazy.  I feel Bob's spirit is with me now.  I feel his presence.  I feel his warmth and love.  That doesn't mean that I don't love my present partner, Bill.  I do.  But I feel something.  Maybe it's all in my head.  After all, I did fall on my head by rolling off a roof when I was just a toddler (my babysitter wasn't watching.)  Whatever it is, my imagination or the real thing, it feels good.  I have an inner sense of peace and tranquility.  I don't know how long this will last but for right now I feel something and the only way I can explain it is that Bob knows that I miss him and he is with me now.

The mind is an amazing thing.  We have the ability to fool ourselves into believing something that isn't so or we are blind to things that are obvious to others.   One thing that I will always have that no one can take away from me are my memories of Bob and time we spent together.  We were both supremely happy. Bob was my lover.  That's what gay guys back in the Dark Ages (before the Sexual Revolution of the Sixties and Seventies) called each other who went steady....lovers.  I loved Bob and he loved me.

Bob's former wife writes of her spirtiual awakening, secure in her belief that her love for Bob was valid and Bob's homosexuality was a perversion.  She was wrong.  Bob was trying to live two lives the way our homophobic society dictated at that time.  To support his family and maintain his dignity he felt he had to portray himself as a straight family man.  Yet he had his hidden desires for members of his own sex.  To be homosexual is not a perversion.  I was born gay.  I had no choice.  The same was probably true for Bob.  He dealt with his homosexuality in a different way.  The only perversion in our society is the way they treat members of our society who have an attract to the same sex.  Thank goodness the newer generation is more realistic about gays and lesbians in our society and do not discount them as human beings but as equal to them in every aspect of freedom.

What Bob and I had during our brief time together was more than sex.  We had a bond. We had a bond that was doomed by the strict societal codes of that time we were together.  The relaxation of sexual codes didn't begain until the late Sixties.  That was too late for me and Bob.  By the time the restrictive sexual codes began to fall I was with a my partner Bill, who I dearly love.  Bob was divorced and remarried and had three more children.  Our brief relationship in 1963-64 was but a sweet memory. 

I never thought I would feel this way about Bob again after all these years but I have to honestly admit, I miss him.  I miss him more than I ever thought I would, even after all these years.

After reading his wife's book and all that was going on in his life, I just wish I could have been there for him to give him a hug and offer my support to him.  Just to give him a hug and offer him comfort.

I think I may have made a difference in his life.  I do believe there is a reason for everything in this life.  I do believe in The Plan.  I believe that some day I will again see Bob and that melt your heart smile of his.  I don't know how, when or where but I do know I will.  Whenever I think of Bob now I get a warm, peaceful feeling.  That is how I know he is still with me.

Now that I am nearing the end of my life I am comforted by the fact that I just may experience Heaven the way Robin Williams did in his movies "What Dreams May Come."  I will be in a perfect place with those people and my pets that I have loved during my lifetime.  That perfect place will have no room for pain, hate and discrimination.  That perfect place will be Heaven.  I hope to see you there Bob.  I miss you.  I never stopped loving you.

Me at my computer July 2010 - 47 years later writing this blog posting

Why I Blog

Blogging: (blŏg-ging)




. An enjoyable pastime:


. A way of expressing emotions, ideas and opinions in a public realm:




. A way of meeting like-minded people bypassing geographical or cultural barriers:



. A form of self-medication:



I took the definition of blogging from a fellow blogger's blog, Ramblings of the Bearded One. Thank you Kim Ayers for your inspiration. You are a true undiscovered talent (albeit slowly being discovered.)


For those of you who know me personally and those of you who have stumbled across my blogs, the answer to the question of "Why I Blog" is "All of the above."

. An enjoyable pastime:


Yes, that is me. I have always loved to write. From the time I was a teenager writing to pen pals until my adulthood writing Letters to the Editor of local and national newspapers. I get a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment from writing. Probably the same sense of satisfaction and accomplishment that a musician or an athlete receives when they engage in their favorite activity.

. A way of expressing emotions, ideas and opinions in a public realm:


Oh yes. Anyone who knows me personally knows that I rarely hesitate of express my emotions, ideas and opinions. However, I have tried to tamp down my rants and raves about the current political scene because so many others already do it much better than me. However, there are times when I simply cannot hold myself back and I have to express my opinion over some current political situation.

. A way of meeting like-minded people bypassing geographical or cultural barriers:

Yes, this is a goal of mine but so far it has not happened much to my surprise. I have met some very nice people who have left comments on some of my blogs and I have even gained one follower other than a friend. But I had expected to meet many more people worldwide who would find my blog of interest. But then, maybe what I have suspected all along in my 67 years on this earth, I may not be the most interesting person. Ironically if this is true, it does not affect my self image one iota. Maybe I have a healthy ego or I'm just not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I've always been pretty happy with myself. There have been a few times I've slipped and I wish I could have done things a different way but who I am? I'm quite satisfied with who I am, thank you.

. A form of self-medication:


Oh yes, definitely. Whenever I'm down (depressed), all I have to do is write a blog or an entry into my personal journal and euphoria returns. I can't exactly explain how this works but it seems once I write down either what I'm doing, what I did, what I'm going to do or what I wish to do; I immediately feel like I'm okay again. I am not alone.


Perhaps that is the Number One reason I write a blog, I am not alone.

I remember years ago when my Great Aunt Grace (my Mother's aunt) asked my Mother: "Why does Ronnie write to pen pals? Doesn't he have any friends?" (Note: "Ronnie" is my childhood name, "Ron" is my adult name.)


I was maybe 12 years old when my Mother related Aunt Grace's question to me. At the time I thought that is why I did have pen pals, because of the paucity of my friendships. Oh I did have a few friends. In fact I have a few very good friends. But still I felt I was missing something. Perhaps I wanted to contact the world outside of my little five mile radius of Downingtown, Pennsylvania where I grew up.

It wasn't until I joined the Army when I was 18 years old that I gave up all my pen pals (save one, I wrote to her about a year into my Army enlistment until I finally gave her up too - Sorry Nancy Jo Stoker of Waterloo, Iowa.)


Looking back now I probably gave up the pen pals because I had a lot of friends or at least comradeship when I was in the Army. There was always something to do, somewhere to go, and someone to go with.


After the Army, when I young and pretty and full of life and zest, I hit the nightlife scene of a young gay man. Again, there was very little if no time for reaching out into the Great Unknown to make friends and acquaintances. With my youthful good looks and refreshing innocence, I made many friends (and more) in the gay bar scene (no false modesty here, I'm telling it like it is....or was.)



Then I entered into a life long relationship with my life partner (still going on.) My career (in trust bank operations) monopolized my time and I also gained many more friends and acquaintances through my work place.


However, now that I am retired (I do work part time at a hotel where I meet people), I feel as if I've completed the full cycle.


I haven't made as many friends as I thought I would down here in what is considered the gay capital of the East Coast. That's probably because of a combination of factors, the main one being that I'm not from the D.C. gay crowd. Also, I have several serious drawbacks which make me an unlikely candidate for multiple friendships. I'm way too naive. I have a passive/aggressive personality which doesn't fit well with most friendships. However, I have made a few friends and I treasure and value greatly their friendship (you know who are are.)



Some of the other reasons why I'm not a candidate for Miss Geniality are that I'm way too honest. I do like to gossip (but not harmful gossip or is that an oxymoron?) I am very private and I make everyone take their shoes off when they enter my house.


Whatever the reasons at this point in my life I've settled down to a nice, comfortable routine. I am retired but work part time just enough to engage my brain from atrophying and to meet more interesting people than I would meet in a Wal-Mart checkout line.


Oh, one other reason that maybe I'm not the Toast of Town is my voice. I'm not effeminate nor do I talk with a "gay" accent (all you straight people know what I'm talking about, gay people don't.) But my voice is not a deep, melodious voice. It is more of the Henry Aldrich variety with a Philadelphia accent. What is a Philadelphia accent? One example is that I pronounce water as "wudder." I have a nasal twang. What can I say? Coincidentally my one brother also has the same nasal twang and sometimes even his own wife will mistake me for her own husband when I call on the phone. However, my other brother has the expected deep, baritone tone of a mature, heterosexual male. I, on the other hand, am not to be taken seriously once I open my mouth.


I still remember the advice I was given by a couple of my Army buddies when I was 18 years old stationed at Ft. Devens, Massachusetts. It was a Friday night and they guys were going to take "the kid" (that would be me) out to the Little Club (or some name like that) in Ayer, Massachusetts. They said they would take me with them under one condition that I would keep my mouth shut. I did that night but I haven't ever since.


So, to sum up why I write a blog:


I like to write and I like to meet like minded people. It makes me feel good. It is a harmless past time and it doesn't cost me anything but time. I don't need anyone's approval (although sometimes some friends and readers of my blog attempt to control what I write but I pay them no mind.) I've been told that I shouldn't have music on my blog (I like the music, it stays.) I've also been told that I should not criticize Republicans on my blog (I will continue to do so when appropriate and I'm in the mood to vent.) I've also been told that I write too much about myself and should focus more on general topics (what is that criticism all about anyway? That's the whole point of my blog, ME.)


So I soldier on writing my blog, mostly every day. I do not worry about subject matter or what to write about. There is always something to write about. The backlog of topics in my head is endless. I have as many topics to write about as there are grains of sand on the beach or stars in the skies.


I am always seeking to improve my writing style and make my topics of interest. And of course, I always try to have humor and good will in all my blog postings.


I will continue to write until I am no longer able to write or the Powers That Be start to charge for maintaining a blog. If that happens, then I go back to counted cross stitch.

Dinner at Paul and Jack's Place

Bill and I took the long ride down to Ocean City, Maryland this afternoon for dinner with our friend Paul and Jack. This is the first time I’ve driven to Ocean City since we moved here almost three years ago. It was an experience. First we ran into the heavy rush hour traffic in Rehoboth Beach. Then as we entered Dewey Beach, the skies opened with a heavy shower. We had to pull off the road for about 20 minutes for the cats and dogs to stop falling.

Then we were on our way again driving down the narrow strip of land that connects the southern most part of Delaware from Ocean City, Maryland. We drove through sunshine, another shower, sun again and again another shower. It was like we were being tested. Finally we saw the high rises lining the ocean beach that are unique to Ocean City, Maryland. Paul and Jack’s condo was just off 120th Street.

Even though I missed the first turn, we still arrived on time (5 o’clock) and were greeted warmly by Paul and Jack at the door. After a tour of the premises we settled down to an evening of camaraderie and friendship. This was not a “Boys in the Band” get together of gay friends. The times have changed. No hurtful displays of self hate and deadly zingers in this get together of gay friends.

We sat down to a delicious dinner of mustard and wine chicken recipe and wild rice with a side of asparagus. Paul, Jack and I washed it down with Zinfandel wine. Bill drank water. For dessert we had Key Lime Pie made especially by the Notting Hill Coffee Shop in Lewes, Delaware. I picked up the pie in the morning in Lewes in a very crowded coffee shop. It was worth the extra effort because the pie was delicious even thou it fell apart when cut. I was warned to keep the pie in the freezer until 20 minutes before serving. We didn’t do that but no matter. The pie was delicious anyway even if it was a pudding pool in the middle of our dessert plates.

After we thanked Paul and Jack for a wonderful evening together with friends, Bill and I got on good old Route 1 and headed north to home. All in all, we had a delightful evening with friends. Thank you Paul and Jack for your hospitality.

Forty Five Years and Counting

Today is the 45th anniversary of when I met my life partner, Bill Kelly, my life partner.
I met Bill at the Westbury Bar at the corner of 15th and Spruce Streets in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania on a Friday evening, July 3rd, 1964. At the time I lived in Coatesville, Pennsylvania, 45 miles west of Philadelphia and Bill lived in Pennsauken, New Jersey, 7 ½ miles east of Philadelphia. The Westbury Bar in Philadelphia was a centrally located gay bar in the area where gay men from the tri state area could meet and socialize.

The night of July 3rd wasn’t the first time I saw my future life partner. Approximately two months before I was at the Westbury Bar with my two good friends Ron and Ed. I was in the Army with Ron and I had known Ed from my high school days in Downingtown, PA. Visiting the Westbury Bar on the weekends was our treat. On a weekend night which I don’t remember the exact date, Bill sent a complimentary drink over to me via the bartender Jerry. Jerry placed a drink in front of me and pointed to a black haired older gentleman (“older” being 35 years to my 22 years) across the bar. I look across the bar and see the smiling face of the very popular man who I had seen in the bar before and who I wasn’t particularly attracted to because:

1) He wasn’t my “type.” My “type” being someone more my own age and not quite as popular as Bill was with the local bar patrons.

2) I didn’t want to be another notch of the bedpost of the local lothario as Bill appeared to be in this bar.

I nodded to Bill across the bar to acknowledge that I received the drink he sent but did nothing else. On subsequent visits to the Westbury over the following two months, Bill often sent drinks over my way and I didn’t take the bait. In fact, my friends Ed, Ron and I used to joke about Bill’s pathetic attempt to pick me up with a few drinks. And yet, Bill persisted in sending drinks over to me whenever he saw me in the bar.

On a Friday night a few months later, July 3rd, 1964, I was in the bar by myself. Again, Bill saw me (I always stood at the same corner of the bar, Bill usually was with his many friends next to the Skeet ball machine) and had Jerry the bartender send another drink my way, compliments of him. Ironically, I was more attracted to Jerry the bartender than I was to Bill but that is another story for another blog posting.

This night when Jerry placed the gin and tonic in front of me and, with a smile, indicated that my secret admirer Bill had sent the drink I decided to thank Bill in person. I had lost count of the drinks he had sent to me but at least I could thank him. If nothing else, I am polite. My Great Aunt Grace taught me many years ago to always say “Thank You” when someone showed me a kindness. Plus, I also felt a little guilty about making fun of Bill with my friends when he had sent me drinks over on my previous visits to the Westbury Bar. By no accounts did I have any plans on going any further with Bill. I certainly did not intend to get picked up by him.

So I left my comfortable corner of the bar and walk around to where Bill is standing by himself at the other side of the bar and, approaching him, I said “Thank you for the drinks.” I don't remember exactly what Bill said but seeing him up close and hearing him talk (a nice, deep, masculine voice) I discovered he was not who I thought he was from seeing him across the bar with all his friends yucking it up and having a good time. This was a nice guy! He wasn’t the stereotypical, shallow, gay accented guy or the arrogant, heavy pressure dirty old man type predator type who usually frequented gay bars of the Sixties. Bill was a nice guy who I felt comfortable with immediately. Instead of just thanking him for the drinks he had sent over the past few months and returning to my perch on the corner of the bar, I found myself enjoying a conversation with this pleasant man.

I don’t remember how long we talked but when it came time to leave Bill asked me if I would like to go back to his place in New Jersey. I told him that I didn’t have a way back home because I took the bus down to Philadelphia from Coatesville (I was staying at the YMCA – yes – this was prior to the Village People and “The YMCA” - I was a naïve back then as I am now unfortunately.) Bill offered to take me back to my apartment back in Coatesville in time for me to go back to work. I took him up on his offer and left the Westbury Bar with him to go to his car and spend the night at his apartment in New Jersey. We had a lot to talk about and the bar was closing.

After that first weekend (Bill returned me to my apartment on Sunday), we spent every weekend together. Bill would pick me up at my apartment in Coatesville, PA and drive me to his apartment in Pennsauken, NJ and we would spend the weekend together. We would go on trips, sometimes we would just go to the local farmer’s market. I liked to cook so I would experiment with different recipes with Bill. Eventually I invited my friends Ron and Ed over to meet Bill and we had many dinners together.

Towards the end of the year I decided that I wanted to work and live in Philadelphia (my friend Ron worked at a major bank in Philadelphia and they had an opening in his department.) Bill asked me to move in with him. I turned him down. While I enjoyed his company, I was only 22 years old and I knew I had a lot of wild oats to sow. I didn’t want to be tied down. Bill assured me that if I moved in with him he wouldn’t “tie me down.” I took Bill at his word and, after I got a job at the bank in Philadelphia, I moved in with Bill in February of 1965. We’ve been living together ever since.

Of course our story doesn’t end here but this is how it started, 45 years ago today. I am one very lucky guy to have met Bill. There isn’t a day that doesn’t go by that I realize how just how fortunate I am. While the road hasn’t always been smooth over the years, I do know that I met my soul mate that summer July night in 1964. Our one wish before we leave our existence on this earth is to make our partnership equal in the eyes of the law of this country. We want to get married. Happy anniversary Bill. I love you.

One of the Biggest Lessons in Life

A friend sent me this prescient message in an e-mail that I received from him this morning:

I think that one of the biggest lessons to learn in our lives is to be happy with who we are. We all spend so much time trying to be something or someone else and are never happy. When we can accept who we are and look at life through our own eyes, then life unfolds before us and we welcome the challenges and joys.

What a beautiful, life affirming message. This message has much more relevance to me than the “you are a sinner and you must be saved” message from my other friend and former classmate from my school days. My former schoolmate friend thinks that I should be attending church services in order to save my soul. I tell him that I cannot attend most Christian church services because they condemn homosexuality and since I am a homosexual, I am automatically discounted the moment I walk through those church doors.
My friend berates me by saying “Why do you always have to bring up the subject of homosexuality and play the martyr?” Apparently he believes in the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy in church as well as our military. In other words, stay in the closet. Keep your homosexuality a secret. Don’t upset the “good” folks in the pews. Play along. Then if you admit you are a sinner and pray for forgiveness, then maybe you will be accepted into the Kingdom of Heaven.

Forty six years ago I broke down my self imposed closet door. It was the spring of 1963 and I decided to stop living a lie. I decided to stop substituting “she” for “he” when talking about relationships. I decided to stop sitting in church pews listening to preachers rant and rave about “fornicators, rapist, thieves, murders, and homosexuals” (notice how the bible thumpers always have a habit of lumping in homosexuals with the worst elements of society.) I told everyone; my family, my friends, my neighbors, that I was gay. Remember, this was before the Stonewall riots. This was before “Will and Grace.” This was before it was fashionable to be gay. I was stepping into Unknown Territory.

As a result of coming out, my Mother dispatched my brothers and father to “rescue me.” They appeared at my apartment and tried to physically take me to the hospital for the “cure.” Unbelievable as that sounds, that was the scene that chilly spring Saturday morning outside my apartment in Coatesville, PA. Both of my brothers pulling my by my arms outside while my father had his truck, motor running, waiting to rush me to the hospital. The scene played out that morning was bizarre, surreal, and out of this world.

They were unsuccessful in “rescuing” me. I resisted and they gave up. The struggle probably didn’t last more than fifteen minutes but it represented a irretrievable break with my former life of hiding, lying, fear, and guilt. I broke free in more ways than one. What followed were several years of estrangement from my family. Contact wasn’t made again until I was invited to a Thanksgiving dinner. By that time I had moved from Coatesville, PA and was living in Pennsauken, New Jersey with my “lover” (now called "life partner".) By the way, I am still living in sin with my "lover", 45 years later.

I accepted their invitation with one caveat; I would only come if I could bring Bill (my partner) with me. They reluctantly agreed. I don’t remember exactly how that first Thanksgiving Dinner went other than it was somewhat subdued (except for me of course, I was my usual ebullient self – I always had a hard time feeling guilty about being gay because to me it seemed so natural.) Over time Bill frequently accompanied me on visits to my parents and brothers. In fact, both my Mother and Father became quite friendly with Bill, once they discovered that he didn’t have horns growing out of his head.

Gradually, over time I would encounter people from my “previous life” who would look at me in askance when meeting me again with this new knowledge about my personal life. I encountered the usual comments like “I would never know that you were gay.” “You don’t look gay.” “You don’t talk gay.” Then I would get the well meaning folk who would give, what they would think anyway, the ultimate permission statement “Some of my best friends are gay.” These comments have continued on over the years. Perhaps my favorite was my cousin who, upon discovering I was gay (hide the kids!) said after a telling pause “Will and Grace is one of my favorite programs!” Oh, that’s wonderful. Straight people playing gay but you will never see two men kissing on that TV screen (here’s a flash, gay men kiss in real life if not in reel life.)

Straight homophobia comes in all forms and sizes. Some well meaning and some just mean spirited. I’ve experienced it all. What I am getting very, very tired of is people trying to “save” me. Save me from what? Myself? As my friend said this morning (who, by the way is gay but also was married and has two beautiful, straight children – so much for “catching” the gayness):

"….be happy with who we are. We all spend so much time trying to be something or someone else and are never happy. When we can accept who we are and look at life through our own eyes, then life unfolds before us and we welcome the challenges and joys."

I remember a few months ago watching Ted Haggard (looking haggard by the way) on Larry King Live with his wife trying to explain away his “sickness” of being gay. I felt no anger towards this former preacher of the gospel. I felt pity for this gay man who is ruining his life by trying to be something he isn’t. Watching him through the TV screen, I wanted to embrace him in my arms and say “It’s alright Ted, be who you are. Don’t try to be what others want you to be.” But, unfortunately Mr. Haggard seems resigned to living the rest of his life as others in his church hierarchy have determined. They have already passed judgment on him. He will live a life of misery and denial. How sad to live one’s life by the will of a group of self righteous, dogmatic, self-appointed experts of a man made church. I feel profound sadness for this man and his family. My heart goes out to him.

There was perhaps no better display of the ugliness of this self righteous, homophobic bigotry recently when a contestant at the Miss USA contest (Miss California) was asked her views on same sex marriages by one of the judges, Perez Hilton:

Hilton, who is openly gay, asked:

"Vermont recently became the fourth state to legalise same-sex marriage. Do you think every state should follow suit. Why or why not?"

"I think it's great Americans are able to choose one or the other," Prejeans answered. "We live in a land that you can choose same-sex marriage or opposite marriage.

"And you know what, in my country, in my family, I think that I believe that a marriage should be between a man and a woman.

"No offence to anybody out there, but that's how I was raised and that's how I think it should be between a man and a woman."

This is a perfect example of the self righteous arrogance that many Christians, especially those on the right of the political spectrum, have. They don’t see it. My friend brags about his horse blinders that I accuse him of wearing. He says it keeps him “focused.” To me this is a form of mental cowardice. He is afraid of being exposed to other ideas because he is scared to death he might change his mind and his whole world would come crashing down around him.

After Carrie Prejeans didn’t win the crown of Miss USA, Miss California responded to the ensuing controversy by saying:

..........she knew instantly after answering the question that she would not win, "because I had spoken from my heart, from my beliefs and for my God".

Note the usage of “my God.” Is this the same God that gays like me are supposed to confess our sins? Is this the all inclusive God or the God just for a select few?

This young lady has every right to live her life convinced that “her God” only accepts “opposites” in marriage. However, she doesn't have the right to tell me how I should live my life no more than I have the right to tell her how to live her life. What she needs to do is drop her self righteous attitude that God is only on her side and accept the world as it is, full of diversity and different views. Miss California may have been beautiful on the outside but she showed her inner ugliness by her answer which casually dismisses the rights of same sex couples to marry and enjoy all the legal and financial benefits that straight couples now enjoy.

It wasn't all that long ago that another beauty queen, who was also a runner up for the big prize, (Miss America) had similar warped views of reality. Anita Bryant had a very successful singing career and a role as a spokeswoman for the orange juice growers association until she decided to show her true ugliness and go on a crusade to wipe out homosexuality from America.

However, times have changed since Anita's crusading days against the "scourge of homosexuality." Carrie Prejeans, Miss California, runner up to Miss USA need not worry about where her next job is coming from. Fox News will be calling soon.

Choosing a Lifestyle

This evening a co-worker was having a discussion with me about his 12 year old cousin. He was telling me that he was correcting his cousin from referring to their gay Uncle Dennis as "that fairy." My co-worker (who is straight, I am gay) told me with self-evident pride that he told cousin "You shouldn't refer to Uncle Denny that way. He chose a gay lifestyle and he should be respected for the person he is." Uh.......chose? I quietly corrected my co-worker and said "Your uncle didn't chose the gay lifestyle." My co-worker's face crinkled up in puzzlement. He said "He didn't?." I said "No. He no more chose to be gay than you chose to be straight. Do you remember when you chose to be straight?"

I felt bad for my friend because he obviously felt he was doing the right thing by correcting his cousin from referring to their uncle as a "fairy." He asked me "Then, when did he become gay?" I told him "The same time you probably became straight." Now he's really confused. I further explained to him "Your uncle didn't chose to be gay. He just is. I didn't chose to be gay no more than I chose to have blue eyes (which I do) when I was born." I could see that he was struggling to understand. I told him that this is the problem, parents and adults pass down to kids these misconceptions about gays and lesbians. Through their actions and attitudes they pass down to kids that it is alright to discount a gay or lesbian as a human being because that is a "lifestyle that they chose." Sure, I decided when I was four years old (when I knew I was "different") to opt for a life of ridicule, hate and danger. Oh yeah, that's the kind of "lifestyle" I want to live.

This kind of misinformation that is fed to our youth is what contributed to the bullying that a caused 11 year old Carl Joseph Walker to hang himself rather than to constantly hear many of his classmates say "That's so gay" when referring to young Carl's naturally happy demeanor. His mother repeatedly told school officials that her son was being bullied but her pleas were ignored. This tactic permission by adults is what permits the term "faggot" to be used by young children and teenagers as the universal derivative term to put down anybody, gay or straight. A more appropriate piece of information to teach kids would be the definition of the term "faggot" - during the Middle Ages, homosexuals were executed by placing a bundle of sticks placed at the feet of the accused homosexuals to burn them alive at the stake.

Earlier this week I had another one of my frequent discussions with my longtime and former school classmate friend about the Christian church's condemnation of gays. I have to explain this to him because he doesn't understand why I won't admit my "sin" and be "saved." He says "Why do you always have to bring up the homosexual aspect?" I told him "Because the organized church condems me for who I am and calls me a sinner." He advises me to "stop being the martyr and confess my sins and accept Jesus Christ as my savior." Of course he is referring to ALL of my sins. The organized Christian church is very preoccupied with sin. But that's another whole new subject that I won't go into at this time. What I will say though is my response to the oft repeated "hate the sin, love the sinner" line that many of the far right Christian based church use in justifying their bigotry towards gays and lesbians - I hate the (organized) church but love the church goer. In fact, some of my best friends are Christians.

The fact remains that as far as this country (and world) has advanced in the knowledge that gays and lesbians are human beings just like their straight counterparts, there is still a lot of ingrained misinformation out there unwittingly being spread around with all the best intentions.

The look on my co-worker's face when I informed him that his uncle didn't chose the gay "lifestyle", it was priceless. It was sort of like the look on my cousin Elaine's face when I first informed her that I was gay. Momentarily she was puzzled and then she quickly recovered by saying "Oh, I love 'Will and Grace!" Uh......thanks but no thanks. And I bet some of your best friends are black too. By the way, I want to know that the "gay lifestyle" is. It sounds pretty glamorous to me but I must have been home sick from school that day when they gave that lesson at Gay High School. I have the same problem with the famous "Homosexual Agenda." I never got my copy. Of course there is no "homosexual lifestyle" anymore than there is a "homosexual agenda." Again, just more nuggets of misinformation that is spread out there in Straightville, USA every day.

Ironically, if I did have a choice, I wouldn't change a thing. I've been very happy with my life. You might even say I've had a very gay life.