Books

Yesterday I made three trips to the new thrift shop open by Clear Space Productions. All three trips were made with boxes of books. One box I offered to help a friend and pick up and deliver his box of no longer wanted books. He doesn’t have the space to store them anymore. That encouraged me to finally start going through my books and make the hard decision as to what I no longer want to keep. I’ve been collecting books ever since I started to read books. I always wanted a library with walls of books. The first books I read I checked out of the Downingtown Library. I remember how comforting it was to browse through the library, looking for books I wanted to read. Back in those days (The Fifties), one had a library card. The books were checked out for two week intervals. If it took you longer to read the book (which it didn’t with me) you could extend your borrowing period. It didn’t take me long to fill up my library card. I felt so proud when I filled up one library card and the librarian had to issue me a new library card. I filled up many library cards during my elementary school years.

Over the years I have collected thousands of books. My first collections were paperback books. When I got a real job making real money, I joined the Book-of-the-Month Club (I don’t know if they even exist anymore.) Then I started to seriously collect books, thus building one book at a time that Wall of Books. When I built my home in Pennsylvania in 1981, I had built in bookcases in the living room. It didn’t take me long to fill up those bookcases. Bill persuaded me to part with most of my thousands of paperback books and I agreed. For the twenty five years we lived in Pennsylvania I finally had my own library. Then we moved.

Now I had to move thousands of heavy books. The moving company charged by the pound. This was going to be an expensive proposition moving all these books. It was an expensive proposition. I moved the books to my new home in Delaware. I don’t have a built in bookcase in my Delaware home. In fact, I don’t even have a separate living room which I could call “the library.” The books sat in their moving boxes until Bill started to unpack them last summer and put them in temporary bookshelves in the basement that he built. I had also purchased two unpainted bookcases (which I have yet to paint.) I will fill those new bookcases with the books I decide to keep.

Did I want another Wall of Books? Do I want a library? No, not really. Not at this point in my life. While I still enjoy a good book (I always have one of two books I’m in the process of reading – one at my bed and the other in my bathroom), I don’t need the Library. Thus, it was time to make the Big Decision. Which books are to go and which books are to stay?

Last summer I had began the process of “debooking” by offering many of my Time-Life series of books to Juan, my DirecTV repairman and former neighbor. He has two young children who would benefit from holding a real book with a lot of pictures instead of getting all of their information from the Internet. Yet, as many books as I gave to Juan, there were those books that I couldn’t give to him. His children wouldn’t be interested in these books. Many of those books wouldn’t be appropriate for youngsters such as Juan’s young son and daughter who hadn’t yet reached their teen years.

Thus it was with happiness and relief when a good friend told me that he and his partner were opening a new thrift store. The new thrift store is called Clear Space Productions Thrift Store. Clear Space Productions is a local theatrical company that trains local high school students in theatrical productions. Because of the economy, donations to their worthy cause have dropped. My friend’s partner noticed that other thrift stores in the area do very well. Thus he decided there was a market for another thrift store, especially a “theatrical” thrift store. And he was right. There is a definited niche in the local market for a "theatrical" focused thrift store.

I feel good that now I have a good home for all of these books that I have accumulated over the past 45 years. These books will enjoy a renewed life with their new owners. Again, someone will find comfort turning the pages of a real book. Maybe some of them will even find a home in a home library. Now if I can just find a home for the hundreds of LP albums that have been sitting in unopened boxes in my basement.

The Recession Hits Home

It was just a matter of time until this recession became personal. That happened last night when my manager at the hotel where I work informed me that my hours will be cut in half. Instead of work Mondays and Thursdays on the 3 to 11 PM shift, I will now only work the Monday night shift. This change in hours will continue until business picks up at the hotel. My co-worker, the other retired “elderly gentleman who works part-time” also had his hours cut in half. I know the owner of the hotel was reluctant to make these changes but he had little choice. My co-worker and I can manage because we have other sources of income (retirement pensions and Social Security.) The full-time employees don’t, their only source of income is their job. Of course I will have to do a little belt tightening. Maybe I won’t go out to dinner as often or buy a new passel of books from Amazon.com. I’ll survive.

Actually, yesterday was a “Bad news, good news” kind of day. I also received a phone call from the Census Bureau. Right now we’re playing telephone tag but I suspect they’re calling as a result of the Census Bureau worker application test that I took last month. Hopefully they’re offering me a job. I’ve always been interesting in the census because of my work in genealogy research. When I read about Census Bureau jobs in my AARP magazine, I thought “Why not?” It seemed like a job I would be interested in and I can certainly use the extra income. I won’t mind working the odd hours (evenings and weekends.) Seems like a no brainer to me. The only downside would be if I would have to work in a neighborhood that is either too far away from me or a different socio-economic group than I am. Not to seem stuck up or priggish, but it would not interest me to travel all way to Milford or Dagsboro and exploring strange neighborhoods with potential unknown dangers. Nor would I be interested in a supervisory position. I’ve had just about all the supervisory positions I need for my lifetime, thank you. It’s just about all I can do to manage myself and Bill.

The snow is still on the ground outside but it is melting rapidly. 70’s are forecast today. Maybe by the end of the day this dirty, nasty snow will be gone. Even though the economy is falling all around us, I am thankful for where I am now. Just a few weeks ago a friend informed us that he had “the big C.” One never knows when one’s number will turn up. I may have lost hours at my job yesterday, thus closing one door. However, another door may open soon for me. As long as I have my health I have hope. I got some aches and pains and I may not look as pretty as I did thirty years ago but I still have few days ahead of me. I have my friends, family and home and health. I am rich.

Pictures

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to take pictures. I was always fascinated by photographs, that magic way to capture a moment in time. Unfortunately, growing up poor in the Fifties didn’t offer the financial resources for such a hobby. Growing up in the Fifties in Downingtown, Pennsylvania my family was like many other families, poor. We lived in a two bedroom rented second floor apartment at 120 Washington Avenue in the white trash section of town (it still is by the way.)

My Mother knew how much I was interested in photography so one Christmas Santa gave me a Kodak Brownie camera. Oh what a treasure that was. Not only because it was one of the few Christmases that Santa gave to me only, but because it was a present that I wanted and I got. “Santa” had a bad habit of giving Christmas presents to me and my two brothers with the proviso it was for “all of us.” I can remember one painful Christmas that me and the bros got a much wanted Lionel train set. Mom told us “Santa said this is for all of you.” I think that’s what I stopped believing there was a Santa Claus because I thought Santa would know better than to give ONE electric train set to three boys, especially brothers who were only a year apart in age. It didn’t work. Being the oldest, I got the engine. My middle brother Isaac; got the two middle cars and my youngest brother John; got the caboose. No one was happy. But I digress.

The Christmas I received the Kodak Brownie camera I was 11 years old, 1955. Now I had a new problem. I didn't have the money to buy and process the film of the pictures I was about to start taking. Fortunately for me I had recently secured a newspaper delivery job. I didn’t make a lot of money (about $5.00 a week), but I sometimes did have enough money left over at the end of the week (after buying candy and comic books) to buy a role of black and white Kodak film. Thus began Ron's Wonderful Adventure of taking pictures.

Taking pictures and getting them developed back in the Fifties was quite an ordeal. Once I took my pictures, I would take them to the Charles newsstand for processing. This was before the 1-hour processing; take it for granted, photo-processing days of many years later. Oh no, when one took film to be processed at Sam Charles (he owned the newsstand – we never called it the “Charles Newstand”), one waited at least a week until the film came back from some unknown mysterious location where they processed the film. I can still remember the butterflies in my stomach the magical day would approach when I could pick up my pictures. Sometimes I could hardly wait until I got home until I opened the enveloped and witness the miracle of capturing these Moments in History.

Now fast forward to today. Almost everyone has a digital camera or a camera phone. We can see our pictures almost instantly after they’re processed. Film that one has to thread in a camera is but a memory of the past. Now we download our digital images into our computers. It doesn’t cost us anything. No more trips to the local photography processing store to wait for the film to be processed. If we want a print we can either do it ourselves on our own printer or go to the local Wal-Mart and have it in an hour. Instant gratification.

What about my old black and white pictures that I took back in the Fifties? Those pictures I lovingly secured them with those pyramid shaped glued photo corners in those photo albums with black pages. Then I put those photo ablums in a closet, never to be seen again.

Later, in the 70’s, the miracle of color photography arrived. Now I had more money and I could take more pictures. Yet, I still had to take them to the local Camera Shop for processing. These photos I secured in plastic paged photo albums. I also put those in the same closet, never to be seen again except, by the administrator of my estate after I die.

Over the years I went through periods of taking a lot of pictures, and then years of not taking any pictures. I don’t know why I did this other than I preoccupied with the different transitions in my life and just didn’t have the time to take pictures nor the money for processing the prints. One such period was when I lived in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania after I got out of the Army in January of 1963. I have no pictures of that important period of my life.

Another regret I have is that I didn’t take many pictures of people. Back then I was quite shy and reluctant to shove my camera into someone’s face to take their pictures (I have since gotten over that shyness as many of my friends and relatives can now attest.) I also didn’t have many pictures taken of myself. Again, I think my inherit shyness was the cause. And again, I have gotten over that shyness. I now have a lot of pictures taken of myself. Unfortunately, I am in my advanced years now and the subject matter of my face isn’t quite as appealing (if it ever was) but that is a subject for another blog posting.

One of my big goals in my retirement was to scan all my old photographs into my computer for permanent storage and history. The past two years I have scanned some of my old photos into my computer but only on an individual basis of a particular photo that was of some interest. This morning I changed that. I scanned my first whole photo album into my computer. It took me about three hours but it was worth it. I will put those pictures into several photo albums on my Facebook account for friends and relatives to enjoy (and copy if they wish.)

Scanning my old photos into my computer this morning brought back many fond memories of a more innocent time. And then I thought, that’s why we take photos, to bring back fond memories and remember a time that is long gone. It is also to remember those we know and love that are no longer with us. Were they the “good old days” as is so often referred? Maybe not but they were a time and a place which will never happen again.

During my genealogy research, I often request old photographs from my relatives so I can scan them into my computer for a permanent record and for future generations to look back on and wonder how life was back in the “good old days.” I may not write that book about my life that I have planned all my life, but I will leave this rich treasury of photos that I have accumulated during my lifetime. That is my legacy.

The Day After

Well, this is different. This is the day after the Big Winter Snow Storm. It brought back all the old bad memories of living in Pennsylvania. Living through those winters got to be an ordeal the older I got. That was one thing I didn’t miss when I moved to lower Delaware. The snowstorms that hit Pennsylvania almost always missed us down here in Sussex County. If we got anything at all, it was a quick dusting that disappeared the next day. Not this time. We got socked. I heard we got five inches of the white stuff. One thing is for sure, we got a lot more than we usually get.

This morning Bill took me to work at the hotel. My normal shift was last night but Blare called yesterday and asked me to work her shift today while she pulled a 16 hours shift yesterday. This way it would save her a treacherous trip over the snow and ice covered roads of this unprepared county. She slept at the hotel last night. When I worked at the Hampton Inn in Lionville, PA I frequently stayed overnight in the hotel to avoid traveling the dangerous ice covered roads. That is one of the big advantages of working in a hotel you have a place to sleep.

Arriving in Lewes, most of the roads were still snow and ice covered. It is quite obvious that the locals aren’t used to this much snow. The road crews weren’t out to clear the roads. One travels very carefully over such roads.

It was a quiet day at the hotel. Even though there were only a few guests in the hotel, the owner had requested that the breakfast be set out which I did. I never thought I would say this, but I do miss the days when the hotel had more guests and there was a lot more activity. Because of the current economic situation, our occupancy is down significantly. Hopefully things will improve when the weather improves. Spring is less than a month away now.

Bill picked me up after work and we stopped at the Food Lion in Lewes for milk and vegetables for the Tipton/Kelly household larder. I don’t like the Food Lion in Lewes; it’s too hard to get into and customers are an odd mix of eccentric women and self-important retirees. I usually shop at the Food Lion in Milton. The store is cleaner, easier to get into and has a quicker check out. I prefer the customers at the Milton Food Lion; they’re in my stratosphere, down to earth. In other words, they’re poor like me. To top everything off, when I got home I found that my gallon of 2% milk was leaking. I wasn't surprised. Same thing happened last time I got milk from that Food Lion.

On the way in the development where we live, I spied causality of the snowstorm, one of my neighbor’s cars stuck in the swale. They didn’t make the driveway. Probably couldn’t see the driveway at night with all that snow swirling around. I’m glad that wasn’t me. I was going to go out with friends for our usual Sunday night foray into Rehoboth Beach and the Purple Parrot restaurant. I opted out when I heard the forecast. I’ve traveled at night in a snowstorm before and it isn’t fun. It’s like driving blindfolded. That car ditched in the swale could very easily have been me. Thank you Jesus.

Whiteout

Well, it finally happened. We got hit with a major winter snowstorm last night. Or, at least what passes for a major winter storm here in lower Delaware. Last night when I went to bed, the sky outside was swirling with millions of perfect white snowflakes. Thank goodness I decided not to meet my friends in Rehoboth Beach for our usual Sunday night outing. I would have been caught in that mess.

Upon awaking this morning, my bedroom was bathed in the bright white light reflecting from the snow covered landscape outside. Looking out my windows, I was reminded of my time in Pennsylvania when many such days greeted me in the wintertime. Not so living in southern Delaware, we rarely get snow and when we do it barely covers the ground. If there is snow, it is usually gone the next day. I have to admit I got perverse delight in calling my Mother and brother in Pennsylvania and brag about missing the snow that they were experiencing. This time we’re both experiencing the joys of snow covered roads. No schadenfreude phone calls to Mom this morning.

I was scheduled to go into work tonight but my co-worker called me this morning and offered to switch shifts with me. This way she wouldn’t have to traverse the dangerous snow and ice covered roads to her home tonight and back again tomorrow morning. Instead she will stay overnight at the hotel. This is one big benefit of working for a hotel. You have a place to sleep if you are snowed in. I remember one year when I worked at the Hampton Inn in Lionville, PA. All the cars in the parking lot were frozen to the ground as a result of an ice storm. I couldn’t get my car out for three days. I lived at the hotel. The only problem is a change of underwear. Then I remember another time when I was stranded at my job when I worked for a bank in center city Philadelphia. There were no commuter trains going out of Philadelphia. I had to stay over night in the bank. Where did I sleep? I weaseled my way into staying at a friend’s house in center city Philly. Either that or sleep on the floor of the bank.

I will admit the snow covered landscape is beautiful. But I don’t miss all those days in Pennsylvania trying to navigate over snow and ice covered roads. That was another advantage of retiring to southern Delaware. We usually miss the brunt of these winter storms. Not this time though, not this time.

Knocked Out

Several years ago, actually 12 years ago, my Mother told me she knew when she was old when she knew she couldn’t hoe that extra six rows of corn. My Mother was 72 years told at the time. My Father always had a vegetable garden on their three acres of land in Chester County, Pennsylvania. He lovingly worked that ground for over 40 years (since 1958.) Pop always planted more than the family could eat or can. Pop’s Garden (as we in the family called it) was his identity. He would start his seedlings early in the spring and put them out after the first frost. When my two younger brothers and I were growing up, he would rope us into weeding his rows and rows of corn. At that time his garden was in a field behind the Gindy Trailer Manufacturing plant in Downingtown.

My brothers and I eventually left home to start our own families. Pop continued to have his garden. He and Mom would do the weeding. Actually, Mom did the weeding by using her hoe. Well, this one summer day, she went up in the late afternoon to hoe six rows of corn. She finished and was wiped out. For the first time in her life she said that she knew she was old because she felt her body couldn’t recover as fast. This was unlike previous years that she could come home from working at shift at the Pepperridge Farms layer cake division, cook up a big meal for the men in her family, and then go up in the garden and hoe until dark. Oh no, those days were over forever.

I’ve often thought of my Mother’s realization of the day she knew she was old. I thought, “When would be my day of reckoning?” I think yesterday was the day. I have fourteen Pampas grass plants around my one acre of property here in beautiful Sussex County, Delaware. The time to trim the dead grass from last year is early spring. It is now early spring. I was waiting for a mild day so it wouldn’t be so torturous. Yesterday was such a mild day although the wind were high.

Wednesday I attacked the Pampas grass surrounds the generator on the border of my property and my neighbors the Murphys. That was a BIG job. My body paid the price with aches and pains for a few days after that. Yesterday, in spite of the 30 MPH gusts of wind, I decided to attack the Pampas grass adjoining my back deck and my other neighbor’s fence. For over two hours, I cut, fought, and bagged the dried tan grass stalks. At the end of two hours I was exhausted. I don’t know if it was because I was fighting the constant heavy winds or just all that bending over for sustained periods of time. All I know is that I was totally EXHAUSTED. I am still exhausted. Even after going to bed early last night (9 o’clock with is really early for me), I am still exhausted. I am telling you, I am WIPED OUT.

Maybe this is it. Yesterday I passed the Rubicon. I think I entered into the next phase of my life. For several years now the face I see in the mirror every morning is of some old man. Couldn’t be me. I blamed the haggard appearance on whatever stressful situation I went through the previous day. However, overtime I realized that the same tired, haggard face has been looking at me for years now. It gets harder and harder to take a good picture. This is something else my Mother has told me. “The older you get, the more you will find it is hard to get a good picture of yourself.” Oh how true. Those good pictures are getting harder and harder to come by.

But back to this exhaustion I am feeling now. I have three more Pampas grass bushes to trim. I really don’t know when I’m going to get around to cutting them back. Right now my whole body is aching, especially my back. All I can think about is lying down on my bed, reading a good book, and drifting off to sleep. I’m updating my blog now which I didn’t do yesterday because I was so tired. I have company coming over for dinner tonight. I want to be at my freshest and wittiest with my guests tonight. The only way I can accomplish that goal is to take a nap now. I remember something an old boss used to tell me “Getting old isn’t for sissies.” Well, I’m no sissy but I am getting old. Gone are the days where I could work all day and stay up most of the night and get up early the next day and do it all over again. Ah youth, it is indeed wasted on the young. I am now knocking on the door of Old Age.

Facebook

For about a year now friends from different phases of my life have been urging me to join Facebook. I resisted because I thought I was too old (67.) I thought Facebook was a social networking web site for college students to stay in touch without the detritus of regular e-mail. Why would I want to bother with such a web site? Another thing, my poor old brain can only handle learning so many new things. I tried Twitter a few months ago and it baffled me. I didn’t understand what I would get out of Twitter. I can get by quite well in my life without texting my friends and relatives. To me texting is just another way to incur phone company fees.

Then, about three weeks ago, the son of a former classmate of mine told me that if I enjoyed posting to a blog, I would like Facebook. I was skeptical, because he is one of those young people who handle these new things with ease. What he doesn’t understand is that I am of that generation that is on Brain Overload now. I’m just barely managing operating my PC and taking advantage of what the Internet has to offer. However, I took his advice and jumped in with both feet. What really sold me was when I found out another former classmate of mine also had a Facebook account. She told me that her grandchildren urged her to open a Facebook account in order to keep in touch with them. My friend’s comment “It sort of makes e-mail seem passé doesn’t it?” convinced me to try Facebook. I opened my account two weeks ago and haven’t looked back since. Thank you Ben!

Not to sound like a shill for Facebook but I find that this social networking web site is an ideal way even for an old fogey like me to stay in touch with friends and relatives. In fact, I have rediscovered my nieces and nephew. I had not heard from them in years. I wondered what happened to them. I thought they didn’t want to have anything more to do with old Uncle Ronnie. Well, there they were when I did a search for friends on Facebook. In fact, everyone in the 42 year old picture (taken 1967) that I have posted on this blog has a Facebook account. Pictured is my younger brother (Isaac Tipton, Jr.), his former wife (Phyllis Iffrig Tipton), and their three children (Dawn Tipton Armstrong, Isaac Tipton, III, and Karen Tipton.) It is wonderful to be back in touch with them. I am now sharing old family photos with them. Many of these photos they have never seen. I’m glad I now have the opportunity to share our pictorial family history with them.

My Facebook friends are falling into four categories:

Friends
Relatives
Former Classmates
Genealogy

The only downside I have found so far with Facebook is that I an unable to talk some of my other friends into opening Facebook accounts. I understand that some of them don’t have time for a Facebook account. I’m finding that I have less time for my blog postings now that I have opened a Facebook account. I also understand that some of my friends and relatives are concerned about their privacy. This is another valid concern which I understand. However, I am very thankful to my friend Ben for urging me to open a Facebook account. My life is indeed richer for having done so.

Anyone reading this blog who wants to check my Facebook account only has to type in my e-mail address which is: ronaldtipton@msn.com. Your search engine will take you directly to my Facebook account. I welcome all. Have a great day!