Christina Green Born 9/11/2001

Christina Green
9/11/2001 - 1/9/2011

This young girl died yesterday as a result of blind hatred. 

She was born on 9/11/2001.  Isn't there a message here?  

Stop the violent rhetoric.  This is where it leads.  

The Pain That Never Goes Away

Me and Babydoll

Another sad post here.


I've been lucky most of my life because I haven't lost too many loved ones.  


Now I am of an age where my more of my friends and relatives are dying with increasing frequency.  I am reminded of something my grandfather said a year before his death at 87 years of age.  He said "The bad thing about getting old is that all of your friends have died and there's no one to talk to."  I have never forgotten what he said and I knew it would apply to me someday.  I think that day is coming.


This year on September 16th, my Mother died at 86 years of age.  She would have been 87 this past Christmas Eve.  This year Christmas was difficult for me.


I am now witnessing my best friend's slow descent into the fog of dementia.  I am losing him.  His body is still here but is mind is fading away.  I don't know what is sadder: to have a friend die suddenly or to see them die a slow death this way, losing all dignity in the process.  I know when he dies another part of me will die.  Getting old is painful in more respects than physical. There is the heartbreak.


Perhaps I had no bigger heartbreak than the loss of one of my pet Pomeranian dogs.  I know I should feel guilty saying this but I don't.  The pain I feel in my heart for the loss of my Mother will never go away,  But her death was different.  She had a long and healthy life.  Her death wasn't unexpected.  She had accomplished all she set out to do in life.  


My partner and I have had a total of five Pomeranian dogs during our time together.  They are all gone now.  We don't have any dogs now because he doesn't want to go through the pain of their loss again.  Both of us miss our dogs but perhaps none more so than a silly named dog called "Babydoll."


"Babydoll" was one of two pups of our male (Horace) and female ("T" short for Tiffaney). Both Horace and "T" were 16 years old when they died.  They lived a long and good life.  "Babydoll" was only 11 years old when she died.  

Babydoll (on the left) with her Mom  ("T") and Dad (Horace)

Her death was sudden.  One morning, at the dawn of the day, Bill saw that Babydoll was sick.  He lifted her up in his arms to take her outside.  She died in his arms.  It was that fast.  Bill went into shock.  He cried and wailed.  She was also his favorite.  Bill would not let me take her from his arms.  He wandered all over the house wailing "Oh Babydoll, why did you leave me?"  I'm getting emotional now just writing about that traumatic event thirteen years ago on a cold February day.  Poor Babydoll, she died just as the sun was rising.  She never saw the light of that new day.  Perhaps that is why I am so sad when I witness the dawn light rising.


By the time I was able to pry Babydoll out his his arms around noontime, her little body was stiff with rigor mortis. Bill's eyes were red and swollen from crying.  I didn't know what to do.  My heart was hurting not only for the loss of our loved pet but to see Bill in such pain.  I wanted to do something for him but didn't know what to do.  


I took her lifeless body to the basement and put her in an Igloo freezer chest for burial later.  


The reason why her death has affected us so much was that it was unexpected.  She was always challenging her mom for dominance (there always has to be a Head Dog) in our little trio of Pomeranians.  He always teased her that she "would get her turn" when Mom ("T") kicked the bucket. 


Poor Babydoll, she never got her turn.


Now this is hard for me to explain.  Up until the death of this little Pomeranian dog pet we had, I never cried for anyone who died.  Never.  In fact, I still haven't cried for the death of either my father or my mother.  I don't know why, because I was very sad when my Mother died, not so much when my father died (just telling the truth here).  I miss my Mom terrible but I've never cried.  I got choked up a couple of times but never cried.  Heck.  I cry every time I watch "Dark Victory" with Bette Davis and I know how that ends!  So what is the matter with me crying like an idiot over the death of this little, four pound, ball of orange fur with a terrible, short fuse temper (and she had one, believe me.)  


I don't know.  Maybe there was somebody or a spirit inside that little dog that went before her time.  But what I do know that is to this day, all these years later, my heart aches with a pain that has never relented for that little dog.  

Making the Move

For a long time now I have been trying to keep my blog postings on the upbeat and happy side.  

I try to avoid political ranting and raving.  

I try mightily to keep my bitching to a minimum (not always successful.)

I try to not get too sad (with the notable exception of the recent death of my Mother this past September)

However, there has been a constant nagging situation just behind the facade of my happiness that I present on this blog on an almost daily basis.  And that situation is the rapid deterioration of mental and physical health of my longtime friend (51 years this January 27th) who shall remain nameless out of respect for his privacy.  Those who know me personally know who I'm talking about.  

My Friend lives with his longtime partner in a doublewide on 22 wooded acres outside of Georgetown, DE.  I always assumed that his partner, a nurse, would take care of my Friend.  However, since his partner retired from his nursing job last year, his mental health has deteriorated even more rapidly than my Friend.  

For the past month I've been trying to teach them how to use simple functions like the computer only to have my Friend's partner call me yesterday and tell me "I don't even know now to turn the computer on."  He can't even perform a simple function like turning on his TV with a remote control. 

My Friend has lost most if not all of his cognitive abilities, although he tries hard to hide it.  They are both very forgetful.  Now his partner is losing his cognitive abilities also.  


When they panic because a renewal notice comes in from Sam's Club, I know it's time to act.


But what to do?  I'm not a family member.  And to be perfectly truthful, I'm not a caregiver type.  It just isn't my personality.  During my Mother's long descent into her mental and physical shut down, both of my brothers took care of her.  They did an excellent job.  I am proud of them.  But I felt guilt because I didn't do more myself.  I'm in the same situation now.  


I cannot escape the feeling that I have a responsibility to do something.  My Friend is the reason I moved to Delaware.  He is  one of my longest, and oldest living friend except for some former classmates I still have as friends.  Although we cannot share our life as we did before when he had his mental facilities about him, I still feel a responsibility to do something.


Today I did something.  I called my Friend to ask him for his nephew's phone number.  I had never talked to his nephew before but I felt it was time to notify a family member of my Friend's situation.  The excuse I gave to my Friend for asking him for his nephew's phone number was I needed a number of one of his family members in case either one of them was in an accident.  He fell for my excuse.


I called his nephew.  His nephew knew who I was.  This was a good beginning. 


I informed my Friend's nephew about my concern and asked him if he was aware of his uncle's deteriorating mental and physical state.  He said he was.  He said his mother (my friend's older sister) has the same situation:  the onset of dementia and Parkinson's disease.  I was relieved, I didn't have to convince him.


I told my Friend's nephew that I would continue to monitor the situation and inform him of any change for the worse (which will eventually happen.)  I remember what my brother said when my Mom started to go downhill.  He said "Ronnie, I don't want to make you feel bad but it's not going to get any better.  It only gets worse over time."  And he was right.  He should know, he is the care pastor of his church.  My Friend is not going to get better.  It's not a question of if but a question of when.


We exchanged phone numbers.  I sent e-mails to members of my Friend's church who are also helping both of them with the increasingly daily crises of their day to day living functions.  


We all want to keep my Friend and his partner in their home, living on their own as long as possible.  But we have to face the inevitable.  At some point one or both of them will have to go into some kind of assisted care facility.  


That is a day I am dreading.  


This is my Friend.

Me (the Wolfman) and my Friend (Frankenstein) in better times. 

Philadelphia, Kater Street Gay Community Center Halloween Celebration 1980

Egg Nog Rum Cake

Egg Nog Rum Cake

Okay folks, here we go on this snowy day in southern Delaware.  Yes, ANOTHER SNOW DAY.  Can you believe it?  I can't.  This is the third snow storm since Christmas.  WTF?  Oh well, I don't have to go anywhere today.  In fact, I don't have to go anywhere until next Wednesday, when I go back to work at the hotel.  I'm hoping this white stuff is ALL GONE then.  

Pretty? YES.  To travel in?  NO.

So you ask what is this pictured at the top of my blog?  That my friends is an Egg Nog Rum cake.  This recipe has been making the rounds the past couple of weeks through some of my blogger friends. I think the recipe started with Mark in Delaware ("Tales of the Sissy.")  

His recipe looks so good that it was next on my indulgent cooking list right after egg nog pie.  Another "in fact" was that I made THREE egg nog pies.  Yep, Significant Other and I fast tracked those pies right down out pie hole.  They are gone my friends.....GONE!  

So yesterday I used up the last of the famous, hard to get, Lewes Dairy Egg Nog and made this scrumptious Egg Nog Cake.  I took Mark's recipe and put a few "enhancements" to it.  The recipe is as follows (using a bundt cake pan): 

• 1 box white cake mix (I use Duncan Hines but you can also use Betty Crocker)
• use 3 whole eggs instead of three egg whites as called for in the box recipe
• substitute egg nog for the vegetable oil called for in the recipe
• 1 teaspoon rum extract

After removing the cake from the oven and cooling off, drizzle about a 1/4 cup of 100% rum over the top of the cake, letting a puddle of rum form on the bottom of the cake dish. The cake will absorb the excess rum like a sponge.

For the glaze icing, instead of confectioner's sugar and water I used confectioner's sugar and egg nog (use as much or little as the consistency that you want your icing.)

Drizzle the glaze icing over the rum soaked cake.  

Then try to keep your hands off of the cake.  

As you can see below, this is what happens to a cake when it is too good.  Yes, that big slice (actually multiple slices) was what I ate last night after I returned from the Friday Night Dine Out Group at Ruby Tuesday's in Rehoboth Beach.  

One would think I didn't get enough to eat at Ruby Tuesdays.  One would think.  

When Significant Other got up this morning he wanted to know what happened to the cake.

I told him a pig got in the house last night.  

Mom, Bill and Home

While searching through my thousands of pictures this afternoon I came across this picture of Significant Other and walking my Mother back to our old house in Pennsylvania.  This picture was taken shortly before we put our house up for sale in 2006.


I didn't want to sell our beautiful house which we built in 1980 on 6.845 acres of hillside, Pennsylvania woodland we purchased in 1976.  I had no choice.  I could no longer afford the ever increasing school and property taxes.  I had to put our house up for sale and move to Delaware where the taxes are lower and don't go up 15% to 25% every year.  


I had forgotten that I had taken this iconic picture of my longtime partner (we're in our 46th year now) and Mom.  Mom lived on the other side of the woods from our home which worked out well because we both could maintain our privacy but we were never more than a few minutes away from each other.


Mom didn't want us to move. 


We didn't want to move.  


We loved our home.  


We loved Pennsylvania. 


We had no choice.


Mom is gone now.  She died September 16, 2010.


Our old home in Pennsylvania is gone now.  The new owners defaulted on their mortgage and our once beautiful home and property is now a neglected Grey Gardens.   It was sold at a sheriff's sale this past November.  


Only Significant Other and I are left.  We are living in our new home in Delaware.  


I love our new home in Delaware but I do miss the home we lived in Pennsylvania.  Significant Other doesn't like Delaware nor our new home.  He doesn't like the flat, open landscape and lack of trees.  He still pines for our old home in Pennsylvania.  He feels like he lost a loved one when I sold the home.  


Just when I think I'm used to Mom being gone, I come across a picture like this that smacks me right in my face how much I miss her.  


Thank God I still have him.  

Ted Williams - The Power of Redemption

By now almost everyone has heard of the near miraculous story of Ted Williams, the homeless man with the golden voice who was discovered by a Cleveland highway begging for money.  


First I want to say I just love this kind of redemptive story.  Ted Williams was once a successful radio announcer who saw his life slip away because of addiction to drugs and alcohol.  For the past two years he has been clean (he claims) and is now trying to get his life back in order.  

A local TV guy commuting to work in Cleveland noticed Ted standing on the side of the highway with his sign panhandling for money from the commuters whizzing by in their cars.  Last Monday the TV guy brought his camera along, pulled over and recorded Ted's fabulous golden voice.  The result was a video that went viral and now all the world knows of Ted Williams, the Homeless Man with the Golden Voice.


The past two days I have watched the videos of Ted on TV being interviewed, including the reunion with his 92 year old mother.  Rare is the person who cannot but help to have their heartstrings tugged by this unbelievable story of one man's redemption?  Certainly not me, I have choked up and tears have welled in my eyes more than a few times these past few days.  And here I thought John Boehner was a big crybaby.


In one of my earlier blog postings I wrote about fate.  I do believe in fate.  Think of what would have happened if that TV producer hadn't brought his camera along and taken a video of Ted Williams.  Today Ted Williams would still be standing in the cold on the side of the Ohio highway, begging for a chance.  He got that chance this week and and I hope and pray everything turns out alright for him.  


One of the blogs I visit frequently features weekly a list of mug shots. I'm going to try and beat him to the punch this week and post this list of the past mug shots of Ted Williams, just to show you how far this man has come. 

By the way, I prefer the Farah Fawcett Look (sans the glasses.)  

The Billy Ray Cyrus Mullet Look was the worst.  

Ted Williams | Homeless Announcer with Golden Radio Voice

This makes my day.