My Therapy

Yes, raking grass in my backyard is my therapy. Who need to pay a psychiatrist the big bucks when one has a beautiful back yard like I do that needs constant attention? 

Remember the old PBS show "Crockett's Victory Garden" from years back. On one show Jim Crockett featured this old lady widow and her oh so delightful English garden right out the front door of her modest cottage? She was a widow. Probably about the same age as I am now, eighty-two years old.  I think at that time I saw that show Bill and I were still living in an apartment (Cheswick Square) in Roxborough, PA (Philadelphia). 

All my life, I have had a goal of having my own backyard. I grew up in a cheap ($22.50 a month), cockroach infested apartment on the second floor in the white trash section of Downingtown, only one street (actually a half a street) from the black section of Downingtown (this back in the Fifties when segregation was the accepted "norm"). 

As I walked the three blocks to my elementary school, I walked past houses where many of my classmates lived. They had backyards. I didn't. I always envied them. I thought "One day, when I'm rich I'm going to have a house with a backyard". 

Yep, that was my dreams folks. To have a house with my very own backyard. Of course my other dream was to meet a Prince Charming who would sweep me off of my feet and love me and take care of me the rest of my life. 

Well, I got lucky because I did meet Prince Charming (Bill) and he sweep me off of my feet and spent the rest of his life loving me and taking care of me. But as with all fairy tales (no pun intended......well "maybe"), they come to an end.

My Prince Charming is gone now. I have a few years left (maybe). And what better way to spend it than in my (I'm having hard time getting used to saying "my" instead of "our" since Bill died) backyard just like that widow in that long ago PBS Victory Garden segment.

This morning, like many mornings since Bill died, I got up too early. I sleep a lot these days. Sometimes I get slept out. This morning was one of those mornings. So I decided to put on my waterproof "tick" boots and go out in "my" backyard and rake grass. This way my mind is taken off of how much I miss Bill in my life now and I find comfort in keeping myself busy. Not just busywork but doing something both Bill and I liked. Taking care of "our" backyard. 

And one more thing, Bill paid me a brief visit while I was out in our backyard. A beautiful yellow and black swallowtail butterfly flew by me, almost touching my shoulder as I was taking the dead grass. I know that was Bill saying "Good morning" to me and sharing our backyard with me as he often did when he was alive. Yes, I believe that Bill often visits me now. And in that I find so much comfort.

Yes indeed, who needs a therapist when one had a beautiful backyard that I can still share with the love of my life?

Why I Write a Blog

My friend Michael - nice shirt

I write a blog so I don't go crazy.

Blogging is my therapy.

I know people (friends and family) that think blogging is invasive and self indulgent.  So be it.

I have friends and family members who value their privacy so much that they would never so much as write about what they did yesterday, let alone share their innermost thoughts.  That's the way they think about blogging.  That's fine for them.  I don't pass judgement on them because they don't blog.  I respect their views.

However, I am different.  I have always put my thoughts, aspirations, and record of what I do down on paper.  When I was a teenager I had pen pals.  At one time I had 67 pen pals.  I remember my great aunt Grace asking my Mother "Why does Ronnie write to these strangers?  Doesn't he have any friends?"  


When my Mother relayed her aunt's comment to me (my Mother didn't approve of me having pen pals either), I was hurt and humiliated.  My great aunt had actually hit upon a sore spot, I didn't have many friends at 15 years old.  I was a too tall, skinny kid with low self-esteem (constantly verbally beaten down by my father) and queer to boot.  I was alone in the world and needed an outlet.  My pen pals provided that outlet.  They were my friends.  They were nonjudgmental.

I dropped most of my pen pals when I went into the Army.  I made new friends.

Later in life, even with many friends, I still felt a need to put my thoughts down in writing.  I began keeping a daily journal during the 70's.  I kept that journal for ten years until someone I was helping gained access to those journals and attempted to use them against me.  I quit keeping a journal until three years ago.

At that time in my life I was going through great turmoil.  I couldn't sell my house in Pennsylvania and I was building a new house in Delaware.  Fortunately I got through that crises in my life but to keep from going crazy, I began keeping a journal again.  I also discovered blogging.

Blogging was perfect for me.  I could write and also share my many pictures.  I have found that I could also learn a lot from other bloggers.  Plus, I could make new friends.

Ironically, as I was writing this blog I heard a knock on my door.  It was from the UPS man.  He left a box at my door from "Wine Country Gift Baskets."  I was puzzled at first because I was expecting a package of fiber blend from the AIM Companies.  This didn't look like that box.  I opened the box to find a "Toscano Tower" of goodies.  I opened the card in the box.  The card said:

"We're thinking about you.  Hang in there.  Out cat Tammy says hello.   Michael and Glenn."  

Me with Mike and Glenn's gift this morning

I am touched.  This was a gift from my friends Mike Wilson and Glenn Miller from West Hollywood, California.  They discovered my goofy, self-absorbed blog some months ago and we have become good friends.  They are expressing concern over the fact that I had just posted that my Mother was dying.  I probably should not have made that posting because I wasn't trying to elicit sympathy but only to take the stress off of my mind.  But I posted it anyway because this is my life and I made a vow to myself that my blog would always be honest and as open as possible while still respecting the privacy of my friends and family.

Mike and Glenn, thank you for being such good friends.  If we weren't on opposite ends of the coast I would give you both a big hug right now.  Love you guys!

Now do you see why I blog?

Reactivating Blog

Who said "I'm baaaaaack"? Well, after a long hibernation, I've reactivated my personal blog. I've changed the name to "Retired In Delaware" to more accurately reflect my station in the world at this time of my life. Is anyone interested? I doubt it. However, I am interested and I make no apologies for that. To me this is a form of therapy. Most if not all of us, if we're honest with ourselves, will admit that our primary interest in our life is us. Of course there has to be a balance. Excessive interest in ourselves is narcissism. Little or no self interest in ourselves is low self-esteem, which is also a problem. At this time in my life I feel the need to leave a history of myself that I existed. Why? Because there may be someone like me in the future who is interested in genealogy like me and wants to know more about the person behind the name and dates. I feel like I'm rambling here but be that as it may. I feel the need to keep a blog of my life as a retired gay man in lower Delaware (Sussex County). If you're reading this and don't like it, go to the next blog. However, if find my blog of interest, come back again. Lots going on in my life. Soon to be a movie!