A Change in the Air

My favorite place - our backyard - ready for me to dawdle in

The past couple of days actually felt like Spring.  Robins frolicking in the backyard, pooping in my birdbaths, building nests in the non-fruit bearing cherry tree in our front yard.  

The daffodils have had a rough go of it this year but they're finally coming alive with their bright smiles of Spring

Warm spring breezes caressing my wizened face.  Shopping at BJ's sans jacket, smiles on local populace faces that say "Winter is FINALLY over!"  But wait……snow is forecast for this Tuesday.  Yes folks, you heard correctly.  M.O.R.E. S.N.O.W.  Holy smokes!

The last snow in our backyard - cold

Already we've received SEVEN times more snow than normal for this area of southern Delaware.  Yes, you heard that right……SEVEN TIMES.  Sure, I know we're a lot better off down here on the good old Delmarva peninsula than others areas of the country like say……Atlanta, Georgia that got a whole two inches of snow that closed that city and adjoining Interstate down but come on.  

I'm still in wind down mode from the activities of the past few weeks. It is with a great sense of relief to know that never again ("Never say never") that I will never again do an event.

Me (with sequined hat-what else?) at my 35th class reunion (and yes, I supplied the feather boas for my two female classmates, this was in 1994 - some things never change

 For the past seven years I have been heavily involved in organizing and working on pulling off either a family reunion, class reunion, or blogger reunion, affectionally called a "Bloggerpalooza."  While all these activities are fun, it has come time folks for me to hang up my Event Planner Hat.  

Hey, I even do Bowling Banquets - this one I'm emceeing from from the Sixties

I'm handing over the reins to others and retiring from the festivities.  In fact, I'm not even attending my 55th class reunion this year in September.  That's a first since my 20th class reunion.  

I have an hour videotape of this reunion - I really should transfer it to DVD

And I have to saw, it is with a great sense of relief that I don't have one of these upcoming events looming on the horizon like I have had for the past too many years.  Time to fade in the background folks.  

Ron - Event Planner - glitter and hard at work herding the cats = 1994 - 20 years ago!

Years ago I used to make fun of my Mom and her ever ending rounds of doctor's appointments.  Well, you know the old "What goes 'round comes 'round".  Now that seems to be my life.  Upcoming in my near future is a Sleep Test (which I am seriously considering canceling) and a stress test (I'll probably keep that one since I do have some minor heart problems as do both of my younger brothers).  I think I've been able to put off the heart problems because I've kept my weight down unlike both of my brothers who put on quite the pounds over the years and are now paying the price.  But this old ticker of mine has been beating away since November of 1941 and sooner or later…..it stops.  Time to slow down folks and take stock and evaluate what is really important in my life and what is not.  This is a subject I've addressed before in previous blog posts and will continue to do so in future blog posts.  I have to set priorities with the limited time and energy that I have left.  

Yep, that's me (on the left) explaining to my classmate something in the class reunion booklet I put together - 2004 - 45th Class reunion

I am fortunate that I have several people in my life who truly care about me and I will return their kindness and caring likewise.  As for the negative in my life, I will leave those people and situations far behind like the man in a space suit who is launched into the infinite expanse of the universe. Gone.

Downingtown High School 50th Class Reunion 2009 - where did all these old people come from?

Me and my fellow classmate Marlene R.  at our 50th Class Reunion - she's gone now as are too many of my classmates - I used to have a schoolboy crush on Marlene - I told her about it at this reunion and she got a charge out of it

Marlene's reaction after I told her about my crush on her - SOOO embarrassing

Me (center) and Marlene) right - 1958 - yearbook photo - little did she know I was smitten by her - any wonder why she didn't take notice of me? Major Dork - that was me back then (and maybe still)

Now the really observant will notice that I have a white beard at my 35th reunion but at my 50th my beard miraculously changes to brown.  Amazing!

Yard Work - I Need Help!

Jordan - my possible new help to maintain my yard

I love yard work.

From the time I was a little kid growing up on 120 Washington Avenue in Downingtown, Pennsylvania I wanted my own yard.  I envied my fellow classmates who lived in houses that had their own back yard.  We lived in a second floor apartment in a large, cheap ($22 a month) apartment building in the white trash poor section of town.  That apartment building is still there and it is still the white trash poor section of town.

120 Washington Avenue, Downingtown, PA - no back or front yard here

I got my taste for yard work from mowing the lawns of some of my customers on my paper route.  I also pulled weeds from my Great Aunt Grace's garden.  I've always loved working outside, with the fresh air and my hand in the warm earth.  I can still remember the fresh spring time smell of buttercup flowers as I was on my hands and knees pulling dandelions out of my Aunt Grace's backyard garden.

Of course I did have my taste of working in the garden which was my father's corn field.  My brothers and I spent many a hot summer day hoeing and weeding eight to twelve rows of corn.  But I never considered this yard work.  I considered this WORK.  Besides, it was for my father and it didn't count.  Slave labor.

My father and brother John at my pop's corn field - see how thrilled John is?
After we pulled our required rows of weeds, we were treated to ice cream.
Bribery always sometimes works with kids.

Our family didn't get our own house with land until the summer of 1958.  I was 16 years old and soon to enter my senior year in high school.  I was too caught up in my pubescent adolescent years to have much interest in yard work at that age.

After high school I joined the Army.  When I got out of the Army it was back to apartments again for me.  Ub 1964 I met Bill (my spouse of 47 years this year) and, of course, moved into his apartment in New Jersey.  After a year or so of that apartment me moved into an apartment in Philadelphia, PA.  Still no backyard or front yard for me.  Finally, in 1979 we bought a small row house in center city Philadelphia and I finally had my own backyard, albeit a very small postage stamp back yard.

Our Philadelphia "backyard" - not really 

We lived there for eleven years but I never had much satisfaction from that backyard which really wasn't more than a location for potted plants.

It wasn't until we moved to East Brandywine Township outside of Downingtown, PA in 1980 that I finally had my own "backyard";  all 6.875 acres of it!  Needless to say, I had plenty of backyard then and had a wonderful, interesting and time consuming time.  Remember the old adage "Be careful what you wish for?"  Well, I had more than enough yard work.  Me, the deer, and the bugs, and everything.

Our East Brandywine Township backyard - too much - salad for the deer

Fast forward to today.  I have the ideal suburban backyard.  Our backyard now is real.  It is in the back of the house.  I can plant whatever I want to and don't have to worry about deer eating my plants nor neighborhoods kids picking my flowers like I did in Philadelphia.

So what is the problem now?  I am too old for all this work!

This morning as Bill and I were driving back into our development back from morning errands, I saw a young man working outside my neighbor's house.  Now I've been thinking about this for quite a while.

HOW ABOUT HAVING SOME HELP?

Bill getting ready to decapitate the Pampas grass yesterday

Yes!  I need help.  I admit it.  I'm seventy years old now and after spending four hours yesterday cutting back one Pampas Grass plant, I decided I needed help.  Preferably the help of a young, muscular, healthy man.  Hey, you can't blame me can you?

I called my neighbor and asked her if I could approach her Landscape Guy (one has to be careful about things like this one does).  She said "Sure!"  I took a walk up and introduced myself.  I was greeted with a firm (masculine) handshake.  Good first step!  The young man (most men are "young men" to me these days) introduced himself to me.  I explained my situation.  He said he would be glad to come down to my place and check out my "situation" (don't even go there).

So here I await.  I have succumbed.  I am now the Old Man who needs help maintaining his property.  Has it really come to this?  Oh yes it has.  This is just another milepost on my Journey In Life.

Some people go to the opera, some go to the races, other go on a cruise.  Me?  I find my solace working in a pastoral backyard with just the birds, plants and fresh air for company.  I don't have to deal with the vagaries of people and their whims and demands in this sylvan setting.  Only me and Nature.  The way it was meant to be.

Just Do It!

Girard Bank, Trust Operations Department Philadelphia 1984
Where I worked as a manager

There comes a time in all of our lives in which we question is this what we want to be doing with our lives?  This was brought to my attention again this morning when reading a posting of a fellow blogger.  He was returning from vacation and made note that most of his friends either were retired or living off of some allowance.  In other words, they weren't working. He said he was envious.

Me, the Manager - Girard Bank, Philadelphia, PA

I felt the same way twenty-five years ago when my good friend Big Bob finally decided to leave is secure and well paying job at a brokerage house in Philadelphia.  I have known Bob since my Army days in 1960.  We met often for lunch.  At that time I worked for a big city bank a couple of blocks away for where he worked at his brokerage house.  We both had the good paying, prestigious jobs that our parents dreamed we would have.  I liked my job, I had a great boss and was well paid. We were living the American Dream.  We were not happy.

Me and my friend during one of our many lunches when we worked in Philadelphia

For years my friend agonized over whether or not to leave his job.  Then came the day he left.  He had bought 22 acres of rural woodland in Sussex County, Delaware.  He wanted to change his life.  All he had on that 22 acres of woodland was a shed for tools.  His plan to start his own business as a handyman at $8.00 an hour.  No more dealing with diva brokers, no more dealing with the daily commute to and from Philadelphia, no more getting home late and collapsing only to get up the next morning to do it all over again.  Finally he would be his own man.

Bob made the plunge. For the first two weeks he barely came out of his windowless shed.  He was convinced he made the biggest mistake of his life.  However, after two weeks he came out to do a small handyman job.  I knew he was good at what he did and I told him that once he started to do his work, word would get around and he would't have a problem earning money doing handyman work.  Of course he would never make what he made at his job in Philadelphia but he would have a Life.

It wasn't long until he brought a used single wide trailer.  Not too long after that he had a well installed and running water.  For the past thirty years he has lived there (now in a double wide) with his partner of 27 years.  He has never been happier.

My friend's "castle" - his single wide in the woods of southern Delaware

My own story is similar.  I also had the daily commute job to and from Philadelphia.  I envied my friend for taking the plunge and changing his life but I wasn't quite ready to do it myself.  But one hot and humid summer day, as I stood on the train platform at Suburban station waiting for the conductor to open up the train cars so I could go home I made The Decision.  I too would leave my well paying, prestigious and secure job for the Unknown.  Within a few months I did leave and I have never looked back.  I have never been happier.

Are we rich?  Not in dollars but I have my freedom.  I have a Life.

When I informed Bill (my partner) that I quit my job he got physically sick.  I had told him some years before to quit his job because I was earning enough money to take care of both of us.  Now I quit my job, how were we going to survive?  Bill was so sick he went to bed.  My Mother had the same reaction.  She felt as if I destroyed my life.  She also was sick.  I wasn't.  Was I nervous?  Scared?  You better believe it.  But I knew I was doing the right thing.  I knew I was healthy and would find something.

I quit my job at the bank in Philadelphia in 1986.  It has been quite a ride to say the least since then.  I worked at a few other banks and even at once time worked for $8.50 an hour on a businesswomen's estate mowing her grass and planting flowers.  I worked for a while as a consultant on my previous experience as a bank operations manager.  Then I found the job I have now, hotel front desk clerk.

Me working at the Hampton Inn, Lionville, PA 2000

I work now part-time.  I want to work part-time.  I will always work part-time as long as my health holds out.  I love meeting people and I like the unpredictability of working at a hotel.  I've always loved that aspect of the job.  I like the people I work with.  I like the location (near the water) where I work. I also like earning the extra money, while not a lot, does enable me to splurge occasionally on myself and gifts to friends and family.

I have a good life.  None of this would have been possible if I was afraid to take that First Step and quit my job.  I can think of all kinds of cliches here.  "Nothing ventured, nothing gained."  "You only live once." 

The best advice I can give to anybody who is feeling the need for a change but feels trapped, is just do it.  Make the change.  No one can do it but you.

I know of other people who have made the Change.  None of them has regretted it.  In fact they all have the same response "I wish I had done it sooner."  

Me in Delaware, not a corporate bigwig but HAPPY!

Some people move to another part of the country or even another country like France!  Some others adopt  children they always wanted.  Are these changes scary?  You bet!  But how do you want to live your life?  Working five days a week with a couple of weeks off every year to take a quick holiday that is over much too soon?  Just remember, there is no reward that doesn't have some risk. You have to have faith and confidence in yourself if you want to change your life.  And only you can make that decision.

My Turn

Me at 16 years old at our Boot Road, Downingtown, PA house -1958

On Monday I picked up my new glasses at Lenscrafters at the Dover Mall in Dover.  The glasses were perfect if a bit expensive.  Earlier this year Bill and I took our annual trip down south to visit his home town in Georgia, my brother and family in Greenville, South Carolina and take a genealogy research swing up through the Pisgah Mountains through North Carolina and Tennessee, my father's ancestral roots.

After returning home from our trip south I updated my will, living will and power of attorney to conform with the laws of my new home in Delaware. Bill and I built a river birch tree oval garden island in our back yard, something I always wanted to do.  And the biggie, I had a new colonoscopy inspection which I came out of clean.  I was good for another five years!

Last month I made my first trip to my longtime friend's house in Claymont for a reunion with our other longtime friend from Florida.  I had been putting off this trip because he lives in a heavily industrialized, congested area right outside of Wilmington, Delaware.  I'm not comfortable traveling on multi-lane superhighways where the average speed limit is 75 mph.  But this was for a good cause because we were meeting up with another longtime mutual friend who had recently lost two friends and wanted to see us "one more time" before one of us was gone.  I managed to give over my Hurdle of Fear and made it to my friend's house and we had our successful reunion in Pennsylvania.  When I returned home that night, I was vastly relieved that I would probably never have to travel that route again.

As Bill and I walked out of the mall to the parking lot into the blazing heat of the midday summer sun, I was feeling pretty good about myself.  I had completed the last of my "chores" that I had set for myself this year.  I plan to "coast" the rest of the year working on my family genealogy research, taking pictures and posting them for my Find a Grave account, and finally getting ready to go on eBay and sell off some of my treasures that I have accumulated in my seven decades on this planet.  Yep, I was feeling pretty good about myself.

Then yesterday in the mail I get a benign envelope in the mail from:

Department of Veterans Affairs
VA Medical Center
1601 Kirkwood Highway
Wilmington, DE 19805

I opened it up and there were three pages of the results from the "labs" that I took at the regional VA Medical Care facility in Georgetown on June 15th of this year.

I thought this was unusual sending me the results in the mail.  Usually I go to the VA and ask to have it printed out.  In my twelve years with the VA I never had my lab report mailed to me.  I gave it some brief thought then dismissed the reasoning, figuring the VA had  new procedure.  They do that from time to time.

I started to read the report but as anyone who has ever gotten one of these reports knows, they are confusing.  The main thing is to read how your "score points" compare with the range of safety score points.  In the past I'm usually safely within all areas save one, which is the bilirubin levels, which are consistently high.  Several years ago it was discovered I had "Gilbert's Syndrome" which is a non-life threatening condition.  Bilirubin levels has to do with your liver.  I've never had any symptoms and long ago I ceased to be concerned with my high bilirubin levels.

I was curious as to the rest of my test results but I figured I would take my time and read the whole report at work last night, during one of my long periods of inactivity.  Reading this report would be a good way of kiling time (no pun intended).

So, yesterday evening at the hotel, after I had checked in the last of the guests that were due in I pull out the report and start to read it.  It doesn't make much sense to me but I still go through it line by line.  Then at the bottom of the second page I read this:

"Dear Mr. Tipton
Your lab tests are OK, except for an increase in your PSA and a mild elevation of your LDL "Bad" cholesterol.  For your PSA, please call to schedule a repeat test as well as urine culture.  If the PSA remains elevated, we should have you see the urologist at Wilmington or you may want to see a local urologist through your primary physician.
Sincerely, 
Dan Fisher, MD"


What is this?  I read it again.  Then I look through the report for the results of my PSA test.  I find the results from the last PSA test I had taken 8/25/2009.


Test Name                       Result              units              Ref. Range                       
PSA - HYBRITECH         3.4                 ng/mL            0 - 4                                    

Okay.  I was within the range like I usually am in all my lab tests except for the bilirubin test.

Then I look through the three pages of this report for the results of my test this past June.

I can't find it.  In the meantime the phone at the front desk rings.  My 20th caller of the evening asks the question "Do you have rooms this weekend?"  NO.  Someone walks in the front door and wants to know if I have a room tonight.  I tell him we do and how much it would cost him.  He makes a sour face and gives me the thumb down sign, turns around a leaves.  Really, some people can be so rude.

Then the front desk is quiet again.  No phones, no rude people walking up to the front desk to give me the thumbs down sign.  I read through the report again for the results of my most recent PSA test.

There!  I see it.  It's at the top of the page.  I wonder why they put it there.  This is what it said:

Test Name                       Result              units              Ref. Range                       

PSA - HYBRITECH         8.3      H           ng/mL            0 - 4                                       

Yes, you read it right.  My result was 8.3 which is WAY OVER the range.  Really WAY OVER.  

I read it again, not believing what I'm reading.  It says the same thing.  I go to the bottom of the page and reread the "Dear Mr. Tipton" blurb.  Maybe I misread something.  

I read it three, maybe four times.  It says the same thing.  I didn't miss what the message was.

Now let me put this "news" in context.  Just this week a very good friend of ours just left for his home in Pennsylvania to have a bone test to make sure his recently discovered prostate cancer had not spread (it hadn't, thank goodness).  He found out he had prostate cancer by a standard PSA test the likes of which I was reading for myself last night.  

We had him over for dinner a few days before he left for his Pennsylvania home.  I felt bad for him because I knew his summer at his home down here was probably shot because of all the complications of treating his prostate cancer.  That was a fact confirmed this morning when I talked to him on FaceTime and he told me that in two weeks he will begging fifteen weeks of radiation treatment, five times a week.  There goes the summer.  As I mentioned earlier, the good news was his doctor did a bone check on him and his prostate cancer had not spread.  

I called the VA this morning to schedule another PSA test just to make sure that the last PSA test wasn't a fluke.  I have an appointment next Friday at the Georgetown clinic.  

So why am I writing about this?  Please, not for "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" sympathy.  No, I write in my blog about my life.  The good, the bad, my frustrations, my joy, and my sadness.  As regular readers of my blog know, I write about EVERYTHING and ANYTHING.  Well, just about.  I don't write about all the details at work because my boss or co-workers may read it nor do I write about all the juicy details of my neighborhood or family drama (of which there is plenty, believe me).  

I write about my Life.  This is my Life.  

So how do I feel now?  I have to admit a little scared.  No, I'm not afraid of death I'm just afraid of the process of dying, how you get there.  Just last week I mentioned to my neighbor the way I want to "go" is in my sleep.  I don't want to die in an undignified fashion, helpless and dependent on others. I prefer to be here one day then gone the next day.  If I should die tomorrow I would have no regrets because I have lived a long and good (for the most part) life.  I have been very, very fortunate for a kid who came from very humble beginnings, semi-lazy and of limited maturity and average intelligence. That I haven't done too bad I can probably attribute to my endearing personality and semi-good looks.  The personality probably enabled me to make friends who helped me greatly in my career and my All-American uniquely goofy looks was how I initially caught the attention of and hooked the best man who ever came into my life, my Life Partner Bill, who changed my life for the better.  Without Bill and don't know where I would be today.  I know I was one of the Fortunate Few to find the love of my life at such an early (22) age.  

So there it is, my next challenge in life.  As I said earlier, please don't feel sorry for me or pity me.  There are thousands of other men just like me facing prostate cancer in their senior years.  Prostate cancer is the number one killer of men.  Breast cancer is the number one killer of women.  Just last week I found the grave site of a former co-worker who died at the age of 51 (too young) from breast cancer.  If there is any solace at all, it is the fact that prostate cancer isn't as deadly as breast cancer.  Small consolation as I face what the following weeks will bring.

So now it is My Turn.

My reflection in a gravestone at White's Chapel Methodist Church Cemetery at noon today while I was taking pictures of gravestones for my Find a Grave account.  I will continue my "hobby."  

A Quiet Uncomplicated Friday Night

Downtown Lewes, DE fromt he third floor of the hotel where I work

Here I sit in my cozy little home office (converted from the smallest bedroom in the house) on this quiet, uncomplicated Saturday night.  I told you that I was going to uncomplicated my life and I meant it.  


I was going to go out tonight for the weekly Friday Night Dine Out gathering of our group of retired gay men (and some not retired - all are welcomed) but I decided not to go because of the drizzly rain and misty fog on the roads.  I don't like to travel at night anyway but I really don't want to risk life and limb (and my new car) on the speedway that is Rt. 1 on a Friday night.  I live at a beach resort (albeit six miles outside the craziness) and I see the steady stream of all manner of vehicles exceeding the speed limit, racing to get to Rehoboth Beach FOR THE WEEKEND.


This week's restaurant selection was Ruby Tuesday's, an although it is a chain restaurant, the food is pretty good compared to most of the Sysco driven food served at the local restaurants to the tourists (i.e., tourist traps.)  The food isn't the main reason I go to the dine out group, but it is nice to have decent eats.  I go for the camaraderie that I have with my other OLDER gay friends, mostly couples.  We're all past the bar hopping, cursing for a trick days.  These days we talk about our latest medical maladies and how we're paying our bills on a fixed income and whether or not we can afford to have that cute guy down the street mow our lawn.  I'm sorry I passed on the get together this week, maybe next week we'll have better weather.  Spring sure is taking a long time to arrive around these parts.


Thursday I made the visit to my lawyer's office and gave him the information on preparing my new will.  I had a hard time getting into his office on the 300 block of Rehoboth Avenue.  He had some hot looking construction guys outside tearing the shingles off of his roof, in preparation for a new roof replacement.  As I was dodging the shingles being tossed off the roof, I was trying to figure out how to get into the place.  One would think that he would have closed his office with all work going on.  Talk about a potential for a lawsuit.  Having a shingle hit my on the noggin is a lot more than slipping on a grape in the grocery store fruit section.  I dodged the flying shingles and made my way into his office, met him, sat at the conference table and took care of business.  Now I await the finished product.

Taking care of business at my lawyer's office

Last night at work (during a slow period), I completed the booklet titled "What My Family Should Know" which is a book that contains all my pertinent financial information including bank accounts, phone numbers, cemetery lot, doctors' names and phone numbers, IRA's and where they're located, and the combination to my safe.  Talk about complicated.  


Now the last item on my agenda is my colonoscopy scheduled for the end of this month.  Then I'm done.  I plan to coast through the summer.  In fact I'm going to coast right through the summer to the fall and then November when I hit the big 70.  


This morning I was was talking for my former classmate and still good friend and he mentioned that he would be 70 this year and that reminded me....I too will be 70!  Hard to believe.  What happened to all those years?  Pffft!  Gone.  And that me, soon to be gone.  I'm just tidying up the loose ends now.


Now it's time for a show and then I settle down to watching a couple of episodes of "Judge Judy" on my DVR, then some of those chocolate chip cookies I made this afternoon and then to bed.  The rain beating against my bedroom windows will take me off to Dreamland tonight and all my worries will be gone.  

Complicated Life

A friend sent me this video in response to my bitching about how complicated my life has become.

I thank him.  Watching this video made me smile and realize that my life doesn't have to be this complicated.  I'm working on uncomplicating it.  Starting 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.

Then and Now

Here is one of those posts that provide an insight into my personality and life. Again, this is an idea I stole from a friend of mine because I'm just not that creative or original. But it is fun:




THEN - OCTOBER 1989



1) Age: 47

2) Romantic Status: Living with Life Partner for 25 years (with open relationship options)

3) Occupation: Trust operations manager at a big city bank (Philadelphia, PA)

4) Fun night out: No "nights out", too tired from daily commute to Philadelphia

5) My BFF's: My partner, Big Bob

6) I spent way to much time: Commuting to work in Philadelphia, PA

7) I spent not enough time: With my life partner

8) I wanted to be when I grew up: Senior Trust Operations Manager

9) Biggest concern: Amount of time spent commuting to job in Philadelphia

10) What my biggest concern should have been: Spending time with my life partner

11) Where did I live: Downingtown, PA

12) Dumbest thing I did that year: Risked life and limb to go to work in Philadelphia during an ice storm and never got reimbursed for the comp days when I left the bank

13) If I could go back now and talk to myself I would say: Quit the job in the city and get a life closer to home



Now - October 2009



1.) Age: 67

2.) Romantic Status: Living with Life Partner for 45 years (with open relationship options)

3.) Occupation: Retired, work part-time as hotel front desk clerk in Lewes, DE

4.) Fun night out: Dining out with friends in Rehoboth Beach area

5) My BFFs: My Life Partner, Bob C. (no longer Big Bob, who is fading away with dementia), and Wayne

6) I spend way too much time: Traveling back and forth to Pennsylvania

7) I spend not enough time: Spending time with my partner

8) I want to be when I grew up: I am exactly where I want to be at this time of my life

9) Biggest concern: My living expenses outpacing my fix retirement income thus the need for a part-time job

10) What my biggest concern should have been: Spending more time with my partner

11) Where did I live?Milton, Delaware

12) Dumbest thing I did this year: Continuing my friendships with selfish and inconsiderate people just because I've known them for a long time - these aren't "friends" and I have discontinued the relationships

13) If I could go back now and talk to myself I would say: Quit the job in the city and get a life

This was revealing to me as well as to the readers of this posting.  I think the biggest change in my outlook on life from 20 years ago and now, is that things I used to consider important (like what people thought of me) are no longer important and things I didn't consider important (spending time with my partner) I new realize are very important.  The only constant is change.  I can't imagine what my life will be like 20 years from now.  Oh yes, I do plant to be around 20 years from now.

A Good Run

For sometime now I’ve noticed the mental decline of a good friend of mine. I will not identify him in this blog posting out of respect for his privacy but those who know me know who I am talking about.

Yesterday my friend called me and confirmed what I had suspected for a few years now, his mental decline. He said he had a brain scan and the doctor determined that he had “partial dementia.” The doctor also told him he had the early stages of Parkinson’s disease. I had also noticed that my friend’s right arm and hand had been twitching with increasing frequency.

Both my friend and I use the Veterans Administration facilities. When my friend first noticed his increasing memory loss and twitching of his right arm he brought it to the attention of the VA. They dismissed his concerns outright saying that his loss of memory was normal for a man of his age (early 70’s) and the twitching was “nothing.” I cannot be sure that this was actually what the VA told my friend since I wasn’t there when they told him because in the past he has gotten information confused. However, over the past few years his condition has steadily worsened so he decided to go to his private doctor. He didn’t have a private doctor until last year when urged him to sign up for Medicare Part B and to buy supplemental insurance (through AARP) because of my medical emergency which resulted in a $5,000 emergency room bill when I couldn’t make it to the nearest VA facility in Wilmington. At our age, the chances of another medical emergency were very likely so I decided not to take any chances and I signed up for both Medicare Part B and the supplemental insurance. I’m glad he took my advice or else he would not have got this accurate diagnosis of his condition.

His doctor told him that his Parkinson’s can be controlled by medication and he could also take medication to slow down the progress of his dementia. I wish my friend the best. I’ll always remember the times when we were both young and full of vigor and adventure. The times have changed, even for me.

Too many of my friends and former co-workers have developed medical problems and some have died. Sometimes I feel as if the world as I knew it is closing in around me. I am not writing this blog for sympathy but to acknowledge that my life is entering into a new phase. I notice that I am more forgetful these days. I also find that I need a nap almost every day, especially after work like I did today. I am thankful that I don’t have any serious medical conditions now but I know that it will eventually happen.

About fifteen years ago, my friend and I were sitting in his pickup truck on a cold and windy winter’s day in Rehoboth Beach discussing the loss of many of our mutual friends and acquaintances to the HIV-AIDS virus. At that time we realized our network of friends was changing and would never be the same. We both agreed if we died the next day, that we had a “good run.” Fortunately, neither one of us contracted the AIDS virus and went on to live many more years. However, the times seem to be catching up with us. But I will say now as I said then to my friend, whatever happens tomorrow we have no regrets. We have had a good run.

Note: The picture on this blog is of me (on the left) and my friend (on the right) at a 1979 Halloween celebration at the Venture Inn, a gay bar in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Embarking on a New Adventure

Tomorrow I embark on a new adventure. I begin classes for training as a census enumerator for the 2010 census. Classes are at the Light House Church in Laurel, Delaware, 23 miles from where I live. Classes will be for one week, 9 to 5. The first three days are classroom training. The remaining two days will be in the field. When I first was told that classes would be held so far away, I told the Census Bureau representative I wasn’t interested. Part of the reason was my fear that I would be assigned to conduct census training to far away from my home. Late on Friday a higher up in the bureau called and assured me that they would make every reasonable effort see that my area of responsibility would be in the Milton-Lewes area. I was persuaded. I’m easily persuaded. So, we will see.

I’ve held many different jobs in my lifetime. But I’ve never been a census taker. Somehow this is fitting because for years I’ve worked with old census records in doing my Tipton family genealogy research. I’ve looked at those old census records and noted the misspellings and thought “why couldn’t they be more careful?” Now I will have a chance to correct that error for future generations of genealogy researchers. Maybe this is my legacy as an amateur genealogist.

Life’s patterns do work in strange ways. I started out my work career as a five year old child running errands to the local grocery store for relatives and neighbors. From there I progressed to newspaper boy, office cleaner, dishwasher at local restaurant, meat counter clerk at local farmer’s market, soldier in the Army, hotel night auditor at the Pittsburgh Hilton hotel, accounts payable clerk at Lipsett Steel Products, remittance clerk at Girard Bank, trust operations manager at Mellon Bank, research project reconcilement and control manager for Fidelity Bank, gardener on private estate, trust operations manager (again) at Downingtown National Bank, front desk clerk at Hampton Inn (hotel work again), trust operations consultant at First Financial Bank, front desk clerk at Marriott Hotel (again), front desk clerk at the Inn at Canal Square, and now U. S. Census Bureau enumerator. Along the way I took no acting jobs.

For the past sixty years I’ve always had one kind of job or another. I’ve always had to keep bringing the money in. I wasn’t one of those fortunate children whose parents were committed to putting me through college (although I wanted to go in the worst way.) I didn’t have enough self-confidence to work my way through college so I joined the Army, perhaps the best decision I ever made in my life. I learned more in the Army that I ever would have in college. I matured immensely and gained a level of self confidence one I got away from the environment that did little to nurture self-confidence.

Through the G. I. Bill I gained a college degree (associate degree in business management from Peirce College in Philadelphia.) Also, because of my service in the Army I am now receiving lifetime care from the Veterans Administration. All the years I had complete medical coverage from my banking jobs, I never used it once. It wasn’t until I lost my job with the bank that I was in need of medical care. The care I received from the Veterans Administration Medical Center was the best I’ve ever received in my life for which I will be ever thankful. Socialized medicine work for me, so there Harry and Louise.

The only serious medical care I received before was when I was 17 years old. I had failed my medical induction exam to join the Army. I was informed that I was born with a hernia. The Army would not take me until I got it fixed. I had the operation. The operation went fine but I caught a staph infection from the hospital which almost killed me. I had the staph infection for six months. After a series of operations, the staph infection finally disappeared. I took the medical examination again. This time I passed and I joined the Army January 27, 1960.

Someday I will sit down and write the story of my life. My story may be of little interest to most people but I would like to do it for myself at least and for those future Tipton family genealogy researchers. Fifty or a hundred years from now some researcher may pick that book of my life story and be encouraged to write their own life story. In the meantime, my life story isn’t over yet. I have a whole new chapter to write starting tomorrow. The adventure continues.

Why I Blog

This evening Bill and I had dinner at our home with our good friend Bob C. While many subjects were covered, the subject of my blogging came up. Bob C. stated that he wouldn’t blog. He didn’t see the need for it. I understand that. Bill also doesn’t see the need for him to blog. I also understand why Bill doesn’t feel compelled to blog. I tried to explain to them why I like to blog. It’s very simple, I love to write. Both Bob and Bill said they don’t want the world to know about their lives. I’m different. I do want the world to know about my life. Some may see that as arrogant or selfish. I see it as a compelling need within me that I am required to fulfill.

While I’ve never had formal training in writing (and it shows), I have always had that need to write from the time I was a teenager. At one time I had 57 pen pals around the world. One of my special joys was to check my Post Office box (212) and see envelopes with the different postage stamps from my friends across the country and even some from foreign lands (Japan and Germany.) Looking back on it, I don’t remember anything special that I wrote about except my daily activities, much as I do now. But I did get a great deal of satisfaction from writing my letters and receiving them from my many friends from far away places.

When I joined the Army at 18 years old I had to give up most of my pen pals. I kept one, Nancy Jo Stoker of Waterloo, Iowa. I continued to write to her most of the three years I was in the Army, but at sometime I even let that correspondence lapse. While in the Army I received letters from my Mother, and my three best friends, Bill B., Larry M. and Bob Mc. I still have those letters. After I left the Army those correspondences ended.

In July of 1964 I met my life partner, Bill K. He lived in Pennsauken, New Jersey and I lived in Coatesville, Pennsylvania. We would meet on the weekends. During the week I would write him a letter….every day. I did that from July 1964 to March 1, 1965, when I moved in with him. He still has those letters. On occasion I have read those letters. The content was the same, an accounting my daily activities. It is interesting now to read what was my concerns back then in the 60’s. Also interesting is how my handwriting has changed over the years.

During a ten year period from 1972 to 1981 I kept a personal diary in one of those dated year books I purchased at the Woolworth store on Chestnut Street in Philadelphia. I recorded the years I lived in center city Philadelphia. I faithfully recorded my daily activities in that diary. I would feel incomplete when I didn’t make a daily entry. It was rare that I missed a day. I stopped keeping a diary when an acquaintance, who I let stay in my apartment in Philadelphia, discovered them. This was someone who was homeless and I let stay in my apartment (which I had leased for a year while my house in Pennsylvania was being built) until he found another home. Unfortunately, I had to ask this person to leave my apartment when found out he was stealing from me. A few weeks later he attempted to blackmail me by divulging the contents of my diary. He was unsuccessful in his blackmail attempts but I did stop keeping my diary.

Last year, in July, I decided to start a daily diary (or journal as the cover of the book says) again. I’ve been making daily entries in it since that date. I can’t explain exactly why I feel this need to write. Maybe it’s because I’m at the end of my life now. I do know it gives me a feeling of completeness and that I matter. We all matter. All of us lead interesting lives. There are no dull lives. I often think that maybe someday in the future someone will read my journals and get a feel of what life was like here in the beginning of the 21st century. I read my journals that I kept back in the 70’s and I get the full flavor of what life was like in the 70’s. It was a wonderful time for me as a gay man in the full prime of my youth. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the 70’s were a time of liberation for gay men and women. With the onset of the 80’s and the AIDS epidemic my world changed forever. It was only by coincidence I had already decided to move from center city Philadelphia to a suburban home in Chester County, Pennsylvania. That period ended a chapter of my life.

The whole time I lived in Pennsylvania, twenty five years (from 1981 to 2006), I didn’t keep any journals of my life. That period of my life exists now only in my memory. No written record exists of it unless I decide to write about it before I pass from this earth.

Retiring and moving to Delaware is probably the last chapter of my life. This blog of mine, Retired in Delaware will give someone in the future of what life was like for this one person in Delaware. Some paint a beautiful picture and leave that as their legacy to the future. Some of those artists are not formally trained but their art is just as appreciated by many as well as full filling a personal need within themselves. While I may lack formal training, I forge ahead. Writing full fills a deep need within me. My writing is proof that I existed, that I mattered. Writing is my legacy to the future.

After the Storm

The winds have died down, the rain has ended. The sun burns brightly in the clear blue morning sky. It is the dawn of a new day. Not only for this speck of land that I live on in coastal Delaware but in my life as well. A nor'easter blew in from the Atlantic Ocean early Sunday night and lingered all day Monday. Wind gusts up to 50 MPH tore the new green leaves off of trees. Roads in low lying area were flooded. Sporadic power outages testified to the relentless fury of the winds. Yesterday I was scheduled to work the evening shift at the Inn in Lewes. I drove the mile down the rain swept Route 1, buffeted by the high winds. Turning on New Road, I had to slow down to drive through the portion of New Road that was flooded by the Rehoboth Canal. Arriving at the Inn, I made sure to park where there was little chance of a tree falling on my car. The few guests in the hotel took the bad weather in stride. They were appreciative they had shelter from the storm. We joked about the fact that the computer local weather had forecasted “sprinkles” for the day. After checking in one walk-in couple from the United Kingdom (they were on their way to Montchanin, Delaware), the night was quiet. I had time to reflect on the storm and its aftermath of last Sunday night at the Purple Parrot. I do believe things happen for a reason. Sometimes the reason is not evident. However, with time the reason or reasons come into focus. When one is treated with such casual disrespect as I was over a period of time, sooner or later a reaction is going to happen. The fact that I couldn’t resolve this conflict in a more respectful manner to my friend is my fault. My personality is such that it doesn’t fit into the derisive, caustic, cutting, and arrogant personality of my former friend. Since I’ve retired and moved to Delaware I have attempted to “fit in” groups, which I have avoided all my life. For most of my life, starting with my childhood years, I have been a loner. Along the way I have made a few friends. My three best friends from my school days are still my very good friends. Although we lost touch for a number of years after school, we all reunited in person or through e-mail during the past ten years. These friends are my true friends. They understand me as I understand them. That is the definition of a true friend. Someone who accepts you as you are, warts and all. Someone who doesn’t accuse you of being a drunk because you take offense to the disrespectful way you are being treated by your so called friend. A true friend is one who values all the shades of your personality and truly cares about you. In return you keep their friendship because you care about them. A true friend seeks the cause of your anger rather than to justify their own arrogance by their baseless assumption you must be drunk or have “issues.” Since moving to Delaware, I was with a group of friends who regularly went out Wednesday night to different restaurants. One was a longtime friend from my Army days back in the 60’s. He and his partner would take out another older friend of theirs (85 years old), “just to get him out of the house.” Unfortunately, this older man has an incurable case of logorrhea. Dining out with this person, with his affliction, was very difficult. He had an inability to listen to anyone. It got to be a joke, that whoever sat opposite him would be “blasted” non-stop with his current diatribe, often repeated. That also got to be a joke as to how many times we would hear the same story. Dining out with this man was not a pleasant experience. Last winter, after a particularly rude action by him, I decided to no longer dine out with this group. I wasn’t missed. Because I didn’t willingly subject myself to his torrent of endless words, he had long since ignored my presence. What was the point? We also had a Saturday morning breakfast group at which this person would attend. The other members of the group would jockey for a position so they would not sit opposite him. Though I had stopped attending the Wednesday night dinners, I continued to attend the Saturday morning breakfasts. However, there came a time when I had to end that also. When it gets to the point where you might as well be invisible, it is time to say “this isn’t working.” Thus I started another “night out.” I started to meet another friend, who had recently suffered the breakup of a long term relationship, at the Purple Parrot restaurant in Rehoboth Beach. We would meet almost every Sunday night. Occasionally other friends would join us. I recognized immediately that my friend had a personality that I didn’t feel comfortable with. Loud, caustic, and dismissive; he had a personality that I instantly found uncomfortable. However, I was willing to accept these personality characteristics, thinking I could change. That was my mistake. My discomfort would grow whenever my comments were dismissed airily as ill informed or non-consequential. From a matter as small as dismissing my claim that it was my pen that was with the restaurant check and not the restaurant’s pen to that it was my fault that I wasn’t served until half an hour after all the others at the table. I let my anger build up until it exploded in frustration. I tried to make it work. It didn’t. Thinking about my situation last night, I came to the conclusion that it looks pretty good. I still have my true friends, who know and accept me as I am. I have my passions, which are genealogy, photography, and gardening. I have a beautiful home and a partner who loves and respects me. Even though we have our differences from time to time, we know one another and still love each other, flaws and all. From most of my former friends, I have almost always taken something positive. From this friendship that is now lost, I have also taken something positive. He has shown me the therapeutic value of keeping a daily journal of my feelings, observations, and journey through life. It really is excellent therapy to write it all down. For that I give him thanks.

Monday Morning Rain

Rivulets of rains slowly slide down the window at my left shoulder. The wind driven rain beats against the side of my house, as if seeking shelter inside. The clouds of Sunday have morphed into the wind and rain of Monday. As I sit at my computer, composing this journal, I think of how fortunate I am to have a safe and secure home that shields me from the elements outside. All my life I have toiled, struggled and sacrificed to arrive at this time to have this oasis that is my home. With this thought in mind, I am not heedless to those who are not as fortunate as I am. Critters such as stray dogs and cats, who do not have a warm and dry home to protect them from the cold, wind and rain, and must seek shelter where ever they can. Perhaps they gained entrance in an abandoned building through a broken window or unlocked door. There they sit cuddled into a fur ball patiently waiting for the storm to pass. Perhaps they find shelter near a dumpster with overflow trash. There, under wet cardboard boxes, they have partial shelter from the fury of the wind and rain. For those living creatures I have a profound sense of empathy. I wish I could save them all. I also think of those who are our best and brightest who are serving this country in Iraq and Iran under extreme weather conditions. I vowed not to make political statements when I began this journal, but I do want to make the reader know I am mindful of the sacrifice these brave and loyal Americans are making for us so we can live in our safe and comfortable homes. When I started this journal I made myself a promise that I would have a personal journal that is unique to me. Each of us is unique. Each of us has value. We all have a story to tell that may or may not be of interest to someone else. However, it is important that I record my thoughts, experiences, hopes and dreams in a format that perhaps will be of value to someone in the future. To leave a legacy. One thinks of such things at this time of life. Life waits for the answer, but the question is why? We all have a journey that to take in this existence called life. Some of us are more fortunate that others in the circumstances of our life. For that I will always be thankful.