Fate

Fate:
the universal principle or ultimate agency by which the orderof things is presumably prescribed; the decreed cause ofevents; time: 


About four o'clock this morning as I lay in bed as I was arousing from my deep nighttime sleep I got to thinking of how much the course of my life has taken by chance circumstance.


I am not a religious person.  Even though I was raised as a Christian in the Baptist faith, I was quickly dissuaded from that belief when I was about ten years old.  That was when I realized that the formal church had damned me for eternity because I was homosexual. I knew something was wrong because that was the way I was born.  Thus, at only ten years old I lost faith in "man made religion".  


However, I do believe in Fate.  Some may call Fate a Guardian Angel.  I do believe that my life has been Guided.  By whom or why, I don't know exactly why.  Maybe I'll find that out when I die.  I doubt it though.  I think when you die you enter a giant Nothingness.  The only thing that makes halfway sense to me is reincarnation but that's another whole blog posting.  In fact, that subject is a book.


What I think of is how drastically different my life would have been if not for some chance happenstance.  


I'll give you an example.  My life was pretty routine for the oldest of three sons of a truck driver father and office cleaning mother during the Fifties.  We were poor but so were many of my peers.  My life and circumstance wasn't a whole lot different from most of my classmates except that I was homosexual (even if I didn't know what that meant at that time).  However this blog posting isn't about my homosexuality.  It is about how my life took a life altering turn down a road due to what seems now like an accident of time.


After I graduated from high school I decided to join the Navy.  At that time I knew I didn't want to get drafted into the Army because I didn't want to shoot anybody or get shot at.  Also, I wanted some control over my fate.  And, I liked the Navy uniforms.  Such is the thinking of a 17 year old straight (well I wasn't "straight" but I lied) out of high school.  


A few days after graduation in June of 1959 I make the trip to the Post Office in Coatesville, Pennsylvania and go down to the basement where all the service recruiters each had a desk.  I was asked who I wanted to see. Without hesitation I said "Navy."  


There were four desks in the basement room.  One for each branch of the service:

Army

Marines

Air Force

Navy

The Army was out.  I would have to learn to shoot somebody and be shot at.  Definitely a "No!"

The Air Force was out.  I didn't like their uniforms.

The Marines was definitely out.  I took one look at the bulldog faced Marine recruiter and knew without a doubt that I DID NOT WANT  TO GO THERE.  I surely would break my fingernails.

The Navy was IN.  It was safe, and they had cool uniforms.  Plus, I love the water.  

So I sit myself down at the Navy recruiter's desk and we begin the process.  About an hour later my papers are completed and a date is set for me to return and sign my final enlistment papers  Ron was going to join the Navy for four years.  I left the recruiting station at the Post Office to take this news home to my family.  

About a week later I get a phone call to come in and sign my enlistment papers for the Navy.  I make the trip to the Coatesville Post Office again.  I arrived around noon at the Navy recruiter's desk in the Post Office basement.  He wasn't there.  I was told my the Army recruiter (who sat at the desk across from the Navy recruiter) that he was at lunch.  

While I sat waiting for the Navy recruiter to come back from lunch, the Army recruiter started a conversation with me.  As I remember he was a handsome, friendly man.  Of course he had my full attention.  He asked me "Why are you joining the Navy?"  I told him "I want to see the world."  I didn't want to tell him that I liked their uniforms.  I knew he would think that was a silly reason and I didn't want him to think I was that shallow (even though I am and still am to this day.) However I did him that I didn't want to be in a combat unit, which was absolutely true.  I faint at the sight of blood.  Wuss that I am.  If I was in combat I would be like those fainting goats.  I would not be a good combat soldier

He told me that the Army had a program that I could join that is "99% guaranteed" that I would "see the world" plus I would only have to serve three years.  And..........I wouldn't have to serve in a combat unit.  Well, this sounded pretty good to me.  Only three years?  No combat.  No shooting or getting shot at.  Sounded good to me!

By the time the Navy recruiter came back from lunch, I was now sitting at the Army recruiter's desk having a new set of enlistment papers filled out.  The blond haired Navy recruiter gave his friend the dark haired Army recruiter a friendly, chagrined look that said "Okay, you won this time."  I sensed that this wasn't the first time that this has happened.  I felt a little guilty but I also felt that I had made the right decision.  

Thus, by this purely chance circumstance I choose a road that would forever change my life.  

If not for the Navy recruiter being out to lunch that day and the Army recruiter persuading me to join the Army, I would not have the friends that I have today.  I would not be with my life partner of the past forty-six years.  I would not be living in Delaware.  I would never have worked in the banking industry for almost forty years.  In fact, I probably would not be alive today.  

On that warm June day in 1959 my life changed forever just because the Navy recruiter was out to lunch.  

Pure chance?  I think not.  Maybe an angel was watching over me.  

My guardian angel.

Private Ronald W. Tipton 1960

Moving On

Me, John and Isaac at Happy Days restaurant in Thorndale, PA September 20, 2010

We're alright.  My brothers John and Isaac and me, we're alright.


We laid Mom to rest Monday.  


I left Pennsylvania early yesterday for my home in coastal Delaware.


John and his wife Barb left Pennsylvania early this morning for their home in Greenville, South Carolina.  


Isaac will stay at the longtime family home in Downingtown, Pennsylvania.


I talked to both John and Isaac this morning on the phone.  We're all doing alright.  


Mom led a good, long life.  She lovingly raised three fine boys.  She did her job.  


No false modesty here, she did a great job with us.  We were a handful growing up.  Three personalities as different as can be, yet she met the challenge.  


There was that one comment she made a few years ago when she was reminiscing about the job she did raising us.  She said "I'm glad none of my boys ended up in prison."  SAY WHAT?  I said "Mom!  Why would you even think that?"  She was a bit embarrassed when I questioned her but I think I know where she was coming from.  When she was a young girl in Downingtown, a trusted banker and local, upright citizen was found to have embezzled money from the local bank.  That event, along with being a child of the Depression shook her faith in people.  So that's maybe why she raised us as she did.  To never lie,  cheat, or steal.  If we did we knew we would have to face MOM.  


Thanks Mom.  You raised us right.   Of course you eliminated a career possibility for all three of us.  We could never become politicians.

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.

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.

A Sunday Phone Call

Yesterday afternoon I received a phone call from a woman named Lisa. She identified herself as Tom Davis's daughter. I never talked to her before yesterday but I knew immediately why she called me. She told me that her dad, Tom Davis, had died.

Tom Davis was one of the few people who was instrumental in my life. I probably wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn't for Tom Davis. Back around 1968, when I was working for the old Girard Bank in Philadelphia (now Mellon Bank), Tom plucked me out of the trust department remittance clerk pool to ask me to work on a special project for him and his new unit. Tom was in charge of the input control unit. In his capacity as supervisor of the input control unit he saw my concern for accuracy and asked me take the summer and review all the trust department customer addresses for accuracy. I was flattered by his attention and accepted this new job.

To make a long story short, this small step began my job career progression from just being another faceless clerk in a large pool of workers to someone who cared and made a difference. From that job flowed other jobs which eventually put me into supervisory and management positions. Along the way there were other kind and caring people who recognized whatever talents I had and asked me to work for them. Some I accepted and some I turned down. But Tom was the first.

Over the years Tom's wife has always sent me Christmas cards to let me know how she and Tom and their three daughters were doing. I always looked forward to receiving those notes from his wife Irene. Thus it was with great sadness that I received the news of Tom's death yesterday. Part of me died when I heard this news.

Earlier in the week I also received news that my favorite high school teacher had died. His name was Raymond DiSerafino. We called him "Mr. D." When I had him, he was my science and health teach and also the track coach. During my school years I had a very low self esteem (mostly as a result from my father constantly belittling me.) Mr. D asked me to join the track team as a long distance runner and high hurdles. I joined but never did well. I always came in last on the mile run and when I ran the high hurdles I knocked down more than I jumped over. However, Mr. D kept me on the track team. Then there was one day that the best of the track team were selected to go to the Penn Relays held at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. Naturally, I assumed I wouldn't be going since I never finished better than last in any of my track races. Imagine my surprise when I saw the list of track team members who were going to the Penn Relays and my name was on the list! I asked Mr. D why was I on the list. He asked me "Don't you want to go?" I said "Oh yes! I do want to go." He said that they needed someone to help with the equipment. He asked me if I could help. Could I? Absolutely! This was the best of both worlds. I would get to go to the Penn Relays but I wouldn't be making a fool out of myself by coming in last.

The day of the Penn Relays came and I happily help to load the equipment on the buses. I noticed that there were already students handling the equipment. They really didn't need me but I helped anyway. Thus I had one of my first experiences with someone doing something totally unselfish for me. It was obvious that I wasn't needed to help with the equipment. But that was alright because I was part of the team and helped unload the equipment and load it back up again.

I am 67 years old now. I have forgotten a lot over the past years. However, there are some things that made such an indelible change in my life, I have never forgotten them. One is Mr. D's kidness towards me. Mr. D later became the principal of the high school I attended. The athletic field was named after him. Mr. D died last week a much loved teacher and human being. I will never forget his kindness towards me nor will I ever forget Tom Davis's kindness. Both of these men were part of who I am today. I learned much from them.

In later years I also plucked individuals out of obscurity and gave them a chance for a new direction in their lives. I did this because of what I learned from these two men.

I'm not a religious person. I used to faithfully go to Sunday school when I was a little boy but got quickly turned off to the fire and brimstone brand of church that I was attending (Pentecostal.) In my later years when I was subjected to anti homosexual harangues from preachers of the many different churches I attended, I gave up on formal religion. I learned more about how to treat my fellow human beings from men like Tom Davis and Mr. D than I ever did in a church. I'm not condemning churches as a whole. I'm only saying that as a gay man, organized religion doesn't work for me. They seem to be more interested in condemning me and putting the fear of God into me than teaching me Christian principals. I've also attended a few gay churches but they don't work for me either. They seem to be more of a place to meet and socialize. That is all fine and well for many and I do not condemn them for performing that function. But I never had anyone do something for me that was as totally unselfish as these two men did. The churches I attended wanted my contributions and time. They never did anything to help me other than to tell me to help myself. Sometimes we need a little kindness from other human beings. I've been told that I'm too cynical but that has been my personal experience.

Over the years I have encountered other people who were kind and unselfish towards me and taught me the goodness of people's souls. They have been both men and women, straight and gay, white and black. Kindness comes in all colors and sizes. I have always tried to repay the kindness and unselfishness of these people over the years by doing the same myself. There have been times when some people have viewed this as a weakness and sought to take advantage of me. But thankfully, those people have been few and far in between. I still believe in the basic goodness of most of my fellow human beings.

To me life is a learning experience. Two of my early teachers are gone. I will miss them. But I will never forget them.