Just The Two Of Us

Doesn't today seem like Saturday? Well, actually it is!

Interesting isn't it when holidays fall in the middle of the week. My whole rhythm is thrown off. That's all right though because I just found this great new playlist for continuous disco mix.

I remember way back in 1980 (that long ago Ron?) that I would make a special trip to one of the after hour clubs in Philadelphia (where I lived at that time) and position myself next to one of those massive four foot speakers on the dance floor and just absorb the beat of the disco continuous music. 

I had my "sticks" and my poppers and I would really get into beat. I would do that for hours. Yes, hours! 

Saturdays are always sad for me now since that when Bill had passed, early on a Saturday morning. 

This Saturday was overcast with a light rain. Even worse. Even though Bill had passed February 22nd of this year, the day was overcast (no rain though) and chilly. 

I know Bill is in Heaven now where there is incredible light and peace. He awaits me. This I know. I know that one day I will enter the Gates of Heaven where Bill will welcome me with his open arms and our five Pomeranian doggies will be happily jumping around our feet. 

Our last three Poms, the mother, father and their daughter happy to see me at our house in Pennsylvania about 1984. What a wonderful life we all had then!

Until that wonderful day happens, I continue to mark each day that I exist here on earth, with my few loved friends and my way of ultimate relaxation as I am doing now by listening to this playlist.

Me, 1964 at my furnished, two room efficiency apartment in Coatesville, PA. This is the year I met Bill. What a dump that apartment was but it worked for me at that time. I still have that carnival glass pitcher and glass set! I think I still have that green T-shirt!

Do Dogs Go To Heaven?

Horace- 1982 - 1998

Yes.  Yes, they do.

How do I know?  When my 16 year old Pomeranian Horace died in 1998 the pain of losing "my little buddy" I felt was so unbearable the only way I felt I could survive was the knowledge knowing that I would see him again someday.  

I bought Horace from a pet store in Philadelphia, PA.  I was on my way to lunch and I happened to see him in the store window playing with other dogs much bigger than him.  Bill and I had previously owned two Pomeranians.  I had no plans to buy a puppy that afternoon but I made a big mistake by going into the pet store and asking "how much?"  The store clerk said "Here, hold him."  See the way Horace is looking at Bill above?  That's the way he looked at me.  I bought him on the spot, $300.00.


When Bill picked me up at the train station at the end of the day I had a "little surprise for him."  Bill said "take him back!"  But then I asked Bill to hold Horace.  That did it.

Horace at home in Bill's lap.

In my whole life, all of my previous dogs both with Bill and my family always chose someone else.  Horace was different, he CHOSE ME!  

This is me and Horace and our first Christmas card picture, 1982.  Me and my buddy Horace.

Horace went everywhere with me.  I could never even thing about my car and Horace would know. He HAD TO GO!

We usually took a short ride over to my parents in my '80 Honda. Horace always in the driver's seat.

Here I am in my parent's kitchen with Horace and his daughter Babydoll.  Yes, we got Horace a "wife." His daughter and his wife did not like to travel but Horace did.  As you can see Babydoll is anxious to go home.

Here is my Mom holding Horace but he wants to be with me.  What a good feeling to have an animal who wants to be with you and only you.  Horace and I had a very special relationship.

Here's the whole family; Horace to the right, "T" in the middle and their daughter "Babydoll."

Pomeranians usually live to be twelve years old.  Oddly their daughter died first.  She was only eleven years old.  "T" died next, she was fourteen years old.  Horace lived to the grand old age of sixteen and died in September of 1998.

Horace near the end.

When he died for the first time in my life I experienced the devastating feeling of total loss.  The only way I could ease my pain was with the knowledge that I would see him again someday.  That's when I began to believe in Heaven.  

Why didn't we get a new dog?  Bill can't take the loss anymore.  He said if I got a new dog he would leave me.  When his dog "T" died Bill had to undergo psychiatric care for two years.  I'm not allowed to even mention our dog's names nor display their pictures.  

I was reminded of this kind of loss today this morning when we visited a 92 year old friend of ours.  His name is Bart and he lives by himself on a nice parcel of land abutting the woods.  When we have visited him before we were always greeted with a "Yap! Yap!" of his small mongrel dog.  This morning there was no greeting.  The first thing I asked Bart was "Where is your dog?"  Bart said "He died two weeks ago.  I miss him terribly."  

I asked him "Are you getting a new dog?"  He said "No, I'm too old and I wouldn't want to die before the dog.  I wouldn't do that to a dog."  

He then pointed out to a small bush at the far end of his back yard.  He said "That's where I buried him."  

I could see the sadness in his eyes.  

Do I believe dogs go to Heaven?  You're damn right I do.  We will see you soon.

Is There A Heaven?

That is the universal question we have all had at one time or another in our lives.  I would like to believe that there is a Heaven.  However, my common sense tells me that there is no Heaven.  I think that when we die, when our bodies cease to function, when the emptiness of death replaces the life that is in our faces; on that day there is nothing.  That when we die, our soul or whatever life force that inhabited our bodies for all the years we were alive; that spirit disperses into the endless vastness of eternity.

Of course it is nice to contemplate that some great reward awaits us for enduring this existence on earth.  I want to believe that there was a reason for my existence.  That my life had some purpose. I mean no offense to my friends who find comfort in religion but for me, I find the religious propaganda line that we exist for the "glory of God" and to "accept Jesus Christ" a fairy tale invented by man to control other men.  I've always believed that.  Even down to the point were Christians always refer to God as "the Lord" as in medieval times when real lords presided over serfs and justified their treatment of serfs with a promise of a better afterlife.  Sorry folks, I don't accept the precepts of any "man made" religion at all with perhaps the exception of what little I know about Buddhism.  Some of that eastern religion at least makes sense to me, some of it.

Smokey

We've all heard of the near death experiences in which an all enveloping bright light welcomes us into unconditional love.  Now THAT makes a lot of sense to me and I would like to believe that is what happens when we cease to exist in our human form.  Oh how I would LOVE for that to be our Great Reward for enduring this existence on earth.  When I think of unconditional love it is not something I associates with my fellow human beings.  Oh sure, we make friends during our lifetimes and even a few of us are fortunate in that we find someone we love during our human existence.  But let's be realistic, no matter how great the love or friendship, don't they all have conditions?  Sure they do.  The only "unconditional love" I know of is the love that we receive from our pets, specifically a dog.  Isn't it ironic then that "dog" spelled backwards is "God?"  When you look into a dog's eyes don't you see unconditional love?  I do.  Cats are good pets too but none of us can claim to look into a cat's eyes and see unconditional love returned to us, only a dog's eyes are capable of communicating that feeling.

Horace

At this time of my life, when I am rapidly approaching the end of this train ride called "My Life", I often think of what if anything awaits me when I enter my Eternal Sleep.  I know what I want to happen.  I want to see my pets again.  With them, during my life I did experience unconditional love.  I would like to see my mother and father again.  I would like to see my friends like Ron and Sal, my two Army buddies (Sal was in the Air Force actually but I met him when I was in the Army).  I would LOVE to meet my grandmothers, who I never knew when I was alive.  I also never knew my paternal grandfather; he died two years before I as born.  I bear a striking resemblance to him.  I am curious if our personalities are similar.  I also would like to meet all of my grandfathers, maybe there was a gay one (or two) back there during the eons that it took to produce me in November of 1941.

The way I see it, when I die it's all good.  Even if there is nothing and all is a void then I do have eternal peace.  As much as I enjoy life now and don't want to leave just yet, I do look forward to the day when all this comes to an end.  To me life is a constant serious of tribulations of just getting through.  Recently I have been somewhat depressed over the fact that two heartless frauds might actually be elected president and vice president of this country.  It is depressing enough that Romney and Ryan could actually be elected despite their obvious and blatant deceit and selfishness but what is even more depressing is that so many of my fellow human beings would believe their deceit.

My life as  is most others, has been one of survival.  At this time of my life I am barely surviving.  I just manage to pay my bills.  My weeks are punctuated with more frequent doctor's appointments to repair this 71 year old body so I can last a few more years on this earth.  Because of my old age, I am increasingly relegated to the corner of the room reserved for Senior Citizens, an object of irrevelence good only for whatever money or possessions that can be squeezed out of me before I pass on.

"Fuzzy"

Don't get me wrong, I've had a good life.  I haven't had to endure too many hardships.  In fact, for the most part I've had a good life in spite of the fact that I was born gay and lived most of my life the object of discrimination, hate, and danger.  I've had an easier time of it than most in my situation which I attribute to luck and my survival skills.  Life to me has been one of dodging potential pitfalls and trying to extract some measure of happiness out of it.

"Brad"

I've enjoyed most of my life but I can't say I've been deliriously happy all my years.  Oh sure, there were a few times when I was actually deliriously happy.  I can remember each one of the instances.  They were brief and they were with my amour of the moment, which was always another man.  Unlike the fellow in the video at the beginning of this post, if there is a heaven and I am met by my guardian angel, he better be a man.

Do Dogs Go To Heaven?

Horace - 1982-1999

Yes, I believe they do.

Do I believe in Heaven?  I don't know.  My common sense says there is no such thing as Heaven.  I tend to believe that when you die there is nothing.  A great void.  Black, dark.  Total unawareness.

However, and a big HOWEVER....some years ago I saw a Robin Williams movie called "What Dreams May Come."  The Robin Williams character died in an auto crash in the Holland Tunnel (what a way to go).  He died but he didn't know he died until he "woke up" in a colorful field of flowers in an oil painting.  At first he didn't know where he was.  As he slowly came to consciousness, he heard a dog barking in the distance.  He recognized the bark.  The dog barking was his long deceased dog "Katy".  "I must be in dog Heaven!" says the Robin Williams character.


Katy rushes to him in the field where Robin Williams is lying among the colorful flowers.  Very emotional scene and I get choked up every time I see it.

They embrace one another.  Katy licks his face.  They both walk off towards the beautiful waterfalls in the distance.  That's when Robin Williams realizes that he is in the REAL HEAVEN, not just "doggie Heaven."

Folks, Bill and I have had five dogs (all Pomeranians) during our time together.  Our last dog died in 1998. His name was Horace.  His death was so devastating to us, we haven't had a dog since.  I would get one but Bill couldn't take another loss of one of our pets.

Horace was special to me.  Horace was my "buddy."  Growing up our family had dogs.  Sure they liked me but they were always my father's dogs.  Of the five dogs we've had, four of them took up with Bill.  Sure, they liked me but when push came to shove, Bill was the one they went too.  Horace was the only dog in my life that CHOSE ME.

I don't know exactly why.  Maybe because I rescued him from a pet shop window during my lunch hour one day when he was being overwhelmed by the bigger dogs in the window.  I had no intention of buying a $300 dog from a pet shop in center city Philadelphia on that August day in 1982, believe you me.

The mistake I made was going in the store to inquire about the price of "that doggie in the window."  Of course you know what the pet shop owner did (the sly salesman he was).  He said "Here, I'll get him for you and you can hold him."  Oh oh!  What was I going to say?  What could it harm?

I swathe salesman pick up the little orange fluff that was Horace as a puppy and hold Horace away from him while he sprayed him with something (which I later found out to be a deodorant because Horace stunk when I got him home - puppy mill and all that which I didn't know at the time, naive me).

He hands Horace to me and I hold him to my chest.  He didn't stink when I held him (or at least I didn't smell the stink, that came later when I took him home).

As I cradled Horace to my chest (he fit real good by the way), Horace looks up at me as if to say "Please take me away from here."  Well, it doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened next.  I bought him on the spot!  Oh yeah, I BOUGHT HIM.

Now here was a problem. I had to go back to work and now I have this stinking, three pound orange fur ball in a cardboard box with handles to take back to work with me for the afternoon.  What was I going to do with him?  Good thing my bank operations manager position provided me with a desk back in the corner of the third floor of the Morris Building on Chestnut Street.

I returned to work and put the Box With A Dog In It behind my desk.  Of course several people in my unit asked "What's in the box?"  I forget exactly what I said but I don't remember telling them it was a dog.  I didn't want everyone back there "oohing" and "aching" and creating a distraction.  Just get through the afternoon Ron.

Horace was quiet.  Them there was a whimper.  I put my hand in the box on top of his greasy orange fur.  He stopped whimpering.  I did that every time that afternoon when he whimpered.

Next stop, the commuter train home.  I didn't know if they had a rule about pets on a train but I wasn't going to take any chances.  I wasn't going to go to the train with a dog on a leash.  Horace stays in the box.  So there I go to the train station with my briefcase (the Big Deal Businessman from the Big City) and a cardboard box with handles and three pounds of stink in a box.

I get on the train amongst my fellow commuters.  I find a seat in the back away from most of the other commuters.  An occasional whimper emits from The Box.  My hand automatically goes in the box and the whimpers stop.

After we're on our way for the seventy minute commute to my home in Downingtown, the train conductor ambles by to punch my commuter ticket.  He pauses and looks at me and casts a casual glance at The Box. I'm holding my breath praying that Horace doesn't whimper because I don't want to HAVE TO EXPLAIN WHY I BROUGHT A DOG ON THE TRAIN.  In retrospect me having a dog on the train probably wouldn't have been a problem but I just didn't want to GO THERE.  I had visions of being thrown off the train somewhere near Paoli and having to call Bill to pick me up and then explain to Bill why I was thrown off the train.  Oh no, I still had to think of what I was going to tell Bill when he picked me up at the train station in Downingtown.  He didn't know I BOUGHT A DOG.

The crises pasts with the train conductor and me moves on.  Another thirty minutes or so left on my commute.  I kept my hand in the box the whole time remaining.

Horace a few days after his arrival at our home

We arrive in Downingtown.  I disembark from the train, looking to see where Bill parked his Jeep Wrangler.  I see him.  He sees me.  He sees I have a package.  I knows I'm a shopaholic.  With some bemusement he asks "Well, what did you buy this time?" 

As I'm placing the Box With a Dog in the back seat I nonchalantly tell him "A puppy."  Hey, I'm not one for beating around the bush.  Just get out the news and deal with it.

Bill says "What did you say?"  I said "A puppy."  He turns around and looks at me to see if I'm serious and says "You have GOT TO BE KIDDING?"  That's when I turned around and took the Box With a Dog off the back seat and put it on my lap.  I pull out the Stinkball that is Horace.

Bill's eye just about popped out like the Roadrunner's when he sees the "BEEP-BEEP" bird.  Bill couldn't believe it.

The rest of the ride home Bill bemoaned and groaned and said "You'll have to take him back!" I knew that wasn't going to happen once I let Bill hold him.


Bill was a goner.  We had a new dog in the house.

Now as I said before, we've had dogs before.  In fact, we had just lost another dog (also orange like Horace) a few months before.  Bill at that time said "Never again!"  As I said before, Bill just can't take the loss.

Well, once he held Baby Horace (which is what he called him at that time - the name "Horace" is a subject for another whole blog posting), he (Bill that is) was a goner.  Horace now had a new home.  '

Horace - at home

Bill with one of our other dogs - Sparky - they always choose him

Now here is the interesting part.  Horace had "picked me."  Horace had bonded with me.  All dogs we had before always bonded with Bill.  We got two dogs since Horace and they also bonded with Bill.  But Horace "picked me."  I was Horace's sun, moon and reason for being.  I think what did it was me putting my hand in the box that afternoon and on the train.

From that first day in the house Horace wouldn't let me out of his sight.  When I went to work Horace had stay in my bedroom (Bill and I sleep in different bedrooms) and spent the day lying on the clothes I wore when I was home.  He wanted to be near my scent.

For the next sixteen years (which is a long life for a Pomeranian toy dog), Horace was my "buddy."  He loved to go for rides with me.

You never saw a more pitiful expression on a dog's face if I left for someplace in a car and didn't take Horace with me.  He LOVED riding with me.  I would often visit my Mom.  Horace would have to go.  At my Mom's I would open the car door and Horace would jump out.  I never had to use a leash with Horace, he always kept me in his sight.  Here is Horace with my brother Isaac and my Mother.  Notice how he is keeping me in his line of vision.




From 1982 to 1998, friends and family rarely saw me without Horace.  It was always "Ron and Horace."  We were inseparable.

Me and the older Horace during one of his last rides

Then Horace got hold. He muzzle turned white.  He started to lose his mental facilities.  He started to wet the floor overnight.  He always acted so ashamed when I came down in the morning and saw the wet floor.  I didn't mind, I cleaned it up.

Horace's favorite spot - my lap

Even though his bodily functions both mental and physical were beginning to fail him he still knew who I was.  He still looked to the door in anticipation of "a ride" whenever I headed towards the door.  He knew.

Then came the day (and it's hard to write about this even now, so many years later) that he couldn't get up. I came down to take him out.  He was still in his basket.  His eyes were open and he was breathing.  I waited for him to get out of his basket.  He couldn't move.  He had a blank star in his eyes.

I lifted him up. He was as limp as a rag doll. His head dangled down from my arms instead of resting in them like they had for the last sixteen years.  It was Time.

Me and Horace, Christmas 1984 - totally bonded - inseparable we two

I made the hard decision then and there that I had to end his suffering.  The last few months I noticed that he was rapidly going downhill but that morning his body finally gave out.  Horace had spent the last sixteen years as my devoted friend.  Now was the time for me to do the right thing.

Old Horace - closer to the End

I called my vet and told him what happened.  He told me to come down right away.  I took Horace for his last ride.  He rode in my lap instead of having his front paws on the driver's window like he always did.  He seemed to know that this ride was different (so hard for me to write this now).

Horace about a year before he died - 1997 - old but still with it

I took him into the vet's office and was ushered in right away to a side room.  Dr. Pollack (the vet) came out of a side room with his equipment.  He asked me "Do you want to be with him?"  Of course I said "Yes."  I got Horace when he was just a young pup and I would be with him now, at the end of his life.  That was the least I could do.  I would not leave him now. (So hard folks, these memories, tears in my eyes).

The end was quick and painless.  I left with Horace's limp now dead body wrapped in his afghan blanket that he always slept on.  Bill was waiting for me in the car.  He was crying (Bill can't handle these situations).

Bill drove home, I had Horace in my lap.  At home we placed Horace's body in a freezer chest (we bury all out dogs in an air tight freezer chest).  Bill dug a hole out in the flower garden where our other two dogs were buried.  Horace had outlived them all.  One was "T" who was a blonde Pom and Bill's devoted dog.  The other was their puppy "Babydoll", the offspring of "T" and "Horace".  Horace and T only had two pups.  One we sold (which we always regretted, that's why we never raised any more Pom pups).

All right, I've been through five tissues so far in writing this blog.  I don't know what's the matter with me but I get more emotional over a loss of a pet than I do people.

The pain of the loss of Horace, the only animal friend who "chose" me, was almost unbearable.  When I went to work the next week every time I would think about Horace I would choke up and the tears would flow.  Thank goodness I wasn't crying out loud.  I don't think I've ever had a loud cry in my life, I usually just tear up real bad and choke up.  I'm telling you folks, it took me MONTHS to get to the point where I could even think about Horace without choking up.

These days when I'm looking at The End for myself I often think, will I wake up in a field of flowers (I love fields of flowers) in Heaven one day and hear Horace barking and running towards me?  Now folks, that truly would be Heaven.

Me and my Buddy for Life (and in the Hereafter) - Horace

Where Do We Go When We Die?

Seagull over the Coast Guard station Lewes, DE - Sept. 25, 2010

I don't know.


Lately, I've been thinking about the question of where do we go after we die.


This year, four people I knew quite well departed from this earth.


In January, Anne Marie, a former co-worker, died from breast cancer.  She was 54 years old.


In March, Bonnie, a former classmate and my first high school date, died her her sleep.  She was 68 years old.


Last month, Bill, another former classmate, died from prostate cancer.  He was 68 years old.


Last week my mother died from complications of old age.  She was 86 years old.  


I knew all of these people well enough to ask them "So what's it like on the Other Side?"  I've been asking but I haven't received an answer........yet.  


A few years ago another classmate of mine, Steve, knew he was dying.  I asked him how he was handling that knowledge.  He wasn't sad or upset .  Very matter of faculty he said "I've always wondered what it was like on the Other Side, now I'll find out."  I asked him to let me know when he got there.  He must still be on his Journey because I haven't heard anything from him.  


Here is what I think happens.......nothing.  I would like to believe that I will be reunited with my little Pomeranian dogs who I loved so much during their lifetime.  


I would like to think that I would be reunited with friends I've lost over the years.  


I would like to think that I would be reunited with family that has passed on.


I really would like to meet and find out about my ancestors, being the genealogy nut that I am.


But I have to be realistic.  What is probably going to happen is what happens when we go to sleep every night.....a blank void.


I know that my friends and family who follow a religion probably don't agree with me.  That's fine.  I don't judge them and they shouldn't judge me.  I mean no offense to anyone who follows a religion but to me religion is all about obedience.  You obey and "praise the Lord" (I never understood the need for all the praise by the way) and you'll get into Heaven.  


If that is what works for you, then I'm happy for you.  Like I said, I don't judge.  But to me, and I'm not a lost soul, that just doesn't make sense.  If anything I think our soul at death is dispersed into an infinitesimal amount of atoms, only to be reassembled at a later date in a different life form to go through this thing called Life again.  Maybe I'm a Buddhist  at heart.  


So to all those who think they know what happens after we die, where is your proof?  Until someone contacts me from the Other Side, I'm going with reincarnation.  Maybe I'll come back as a seagull.  Maybe that was Steve in the sky yesterday at the Coast Guard station trying to contact me by flying above me.  Steve?  Steve?  Is that you?

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