Summer Days in Slower Lower

Left - cold  Right - nursed

Summer is upon us folks.  The last week we've been steaming down here in Slower Lower, aka southern Delaware.

I love this time of year!  I love the long days where darkness doesn't descend until 9 o'clock at night.  I love it!

Every evening I take my walk back in Oyster Rocks, the housing development behind where I live.  Just me and the early evening summer breeze.  I don't have to drive ten miles down the four lane Route 1 highway to Rehoboth Beach to mingle with the posers and walk the boardwalk.  I love walking on the boardwalk but I hate the drive and contending with the crazies on Route 1.

I don't remember if I wrote about running into an old high school friend who was dog sitting for one of my neighbors (and former friend) here in my neighborhood.  I hadn't been out to dinner for several months so I asked him if he wanted to go out.  We did.  To a local Italian restaurant which has an excellent reputation.  The only thing I don't like about this restaurant is that the owner occasionally breaks out in operatic arias.

So we enter the restaurant and sure enough the owner is in the midst of one of her arias!  OMG!  What is it with these restaurants that think they HAVE TO ENTERTAIN their patrons?  How about just serving up the food in a quiet atmosphere?  Is that too much to ask?

My friend loves this kind of crap.  But then he's one of these gay guys who likes Broadway show tunes too.  I missed that Gay Card.  I would rather pull weeds than listen to some ham actor belting out Broadway show tunes.  OMG!

We had our meal, Spinach Lasagna.  My friend raved about it, he said that's what he always gets.  So I got it.  It was nothing.  A cheesy mess.  All that Mozzarella cheese is like to much chewing gum to me plus it ties up my innards and constipates me.  I got a glass of Pinot Grigio wine (at $6.50) a glass.  That was good and I got a mild buzz, which was also good.  I also got an iced tea which was the usual tasteless colored water for $2.25 a glass that most of the restaurants down here in Slower Lower pass off as Iced Tea.  Must be a profit maker for them because they all serve the same "tea."

I think I'm about done with local restaurants.  Maybe it's me.  I would rather have some of my homemade potato salad on these hot summer days.  I don't need some big cheesy concoction with overprice colored water.

Guess what?  When I begin a blog post I don't know where I'm going.  I think this one went down the Complaining Road again.  Oh well.

Bill's waiting for me to take him to Lawson's Produce.  He's hot on getting some more flagstone to finish the "London Bridges" entrance way to our driveway.  Don't ask, I'll post a picture when it's finished.

Enjoy this day!

Father Beats Stepson For Not Catching Ball

Okay my "Anonymous" followers, this is "cringe worthy."  This is a father beating his step-son with a belt for not catching a baseball.  Yep, HE BEATS HIS STEPSON WITH A BELT FOR NOT CATCHING A BALL!

Unbelievable right?  We should all be so thankful for easy to record videos and websites like You Tube and Facebook to publicize what heretofore was hidden from public view, an adult beating a child.  There is no reason in the world for an adult to beat a child.  Here, I'll say it again:

THERE IS NO REASON IN THE WORLD FOR AN ADULT TO BEAT A CHILD!

Especially over something as silly as catching a ball.  Hey, I can't catch a ball either.  That's probably because I'm a big sissy and have no athletic ability at all.  I was lucky though because my father never played ball or did anything else with me.  But he did beat me with a belt.  Oh yes, that did happen. That was the way discipline was handled back in the Forties and Fifties.  When I would say something to my Mother about him beating me (and my brothers) with a belt, her answer always was "Your father has scars on his back from where his father beat him."  Somehow that didn't make me feel better.

This is a new day and age.  I hear this father was arrested and put on $100,000 bail.  Good for his  neighbor for reporting this child abuse.  Progress, one step at a time.

The Dream

The Tipton Women (my paternal aunts)

This morning, just before I awoke I had a very clear dream. Usually, when I have dreams I can't remember the details of the dream.  I only remember whether the dream was good or bad.  This morning's dream left me with a very peaceful feeling.

I dreamed that my Mother visited me.  I wasn't at home when she visited me.  I was in a black marble palace.  I felt at home at that palace.  I remember the echoing click clack sounds of high heel shoes walking on the polished black marble floors.

My Mother came through one of the ornate palace doors.  She was dressed in a cream colored, silk suit.  I told her how well she looked in that suit.  I asked her why she was visiting me.  When I asked her this I had no awareness that she was visiting me from the afterlife.  My Mother died September 10, 2010.  she told me that we were "going somewhere" and my aunts would be arriving shortly and we would all go together.  Just then some of my aunts also came through the door, also dressed in cream colored, embossed patterned suits.  I was so impressed with their suits I told them that I had to take their picture since this was one of the rare times we were all together.  I then bounded up the spiral, marble staircase to second floor and my room to get my camera.

When I came back downstairs my aunts and their cream colored suits were gone.  They left without me!

However, to the side I heard the rustle of clothes women's clothes.  What I saw was a group of women, who I didn't recognize, leaving another ground floor room.  They were all dressed in black, silk, embossed suits.  They obviously were leaving a service that was just completed.  I was disappointed first because I didn't know any of these women and I didn't like their black suits even though they were of that soft silk and had the classy embossed pattern on them.  However, their suits were not identical, only the color.  The same with my Mother and my aunt's suits, no duplicates.

So what does this dream mean?  I have my theory which I won't discuss here.  I'm curious what you, the reader think.

Here is a little background.  My father had ten brothers, no sisters.  That mean I had ten paternal aunts.  The picture above is of nine of my ten aunts at one of our Tipton family reunions which was taken in 1960.  At the time the picture was taken only one of my uncles wasn't married.

The Meehan Sisters with their mother (center) 

Only one aunt survives since that photo.  She is the lady with the dark hair standing directly in the middle of the photo.  That is my Aunt Peggy.  The photo below is of my Aunt Peggy with her nine sisters and mother.  My Aunt Peggy is the lady sitting on the left.

My father had ten brothers and no sisters.  My Aunt Peggy had nine sisters and no brothers.  She married my Uncle John.  They had an interesting history.  My Uncle John was a paratrooper during World War II.  He was captured by the Germans and was a prisoner of war.  He escaped twice and was recaptured twice.  Our family assumed he died during the war.  His mother died one month before he was released from the German prisoner or war camp.

Ironically, my Uncle John after having survived World War II died during an accident when his turpentine stained overhauls caught on fire from a carelessly discarded cigarette where he worked as a sign painter at Gindy Trailers.  He died in 1962 when he was only 39 years old.

My Uncle John Tipton (on the right) with friend

So what did this dream mean?

Ramblings on Boardwalk Sunday in Delaware

The cerulean blue sky bathed the Rehoboth Beach boardwalk at Rehoboth Beach this morning as I made my first Sunday Morning Walk.  This time of year just might be my favorite time of year.

I live ten miles north of the Rehoboth Beach boardwalk as the seagull flies.  If I go early in the morning I can miss most of the traffic in and out of Rehoboth Beach, the east coast capital resort de jour of many folk in the Washington, D.C./Balitmore/Philadelphia and New Jersey area of the eastern sea board.

Even though I went early this morning, the air was heavy with humidity.  After I finished my two mile walk (the Rehoboth boardwalk is one mile in each direction exactly) I wandered around some of the nearby streets to soak in some of the flavor of prime Atlantic seacoast resort living.  Of course I could never afford to live in one of those houses near the boardwalk or beach but I can still walk the streets and fantasize.

Sunday is the best time for me to make a run to the boardwalk because the weekday rush hour traffic is gone and most of the weekend visitors are still sleeping off Saturday night.

Last night I saw an old friend (from high school days) was at my neighbor's house, dog sitting his mutts.  I drove over and asked him if he want to go out for dinner.  He did.  We went to Villa Sorrento which is a wonderful, small, family Italian restaurant in Lewes with tasty Italian dishes and reasonable prices.  The only downside, from my viewpoint anyway, is that the owner occasionally breaks out into an aria.  I don't need anyone singing to me while I'm stuffing my face with pasta.  I don't know what it is with a lot of these restaurants down here but many of them feel that it is necessary to have "entertainment" for the diners.  I don't know about you but I would prefer to eat my meal and have a conversation with my dining partner.

After I got back last night, I watch another episode of season two of "Mad Men."  I am hooked on that show.  I must have missed something from watching season one episodes but when did Peggy have a baby?  I think I missed a DVD or two from my Netflix rental.

Yesterday I went out to Sandhill Nursery and Peppers to pick up the last of my plant purchases this season.  My pansies (don't go there) are exhausted and about to give it up and I need to replace them with something hardier.  I went for the wave petunias.  Purple and lavender of course.

Right now I'm hot a sweaty and thinking about taking a shower to freshen up.  I plan to stay inside the hacienda all day until later this afternoon when the heat and humidity lets up a bit.

Oh, I forgot to tell you.  On the way back from the Boardwalk I stopped at Panera and ordered four black bean soup to take out.  I got The Look.  This is the third time in since Panera opened up two weeks ago I've ordered FOUR BLACK BEAN soups to take out.  I'm pretty sure some of the staff at Panera how has me pegged as one of these eccentric resort folk.  You know, "that old guy who comes in here early in the morning and ordering FOUR black bean soups for takeout!"  Whatever.  Just another brick in the wall of Weird Ron's Reputation.  Like I said.....WHATEVER.  I really am at the point in my life that I don't care what anyone thinks of me.  I really don't.

I just finished reading a book about Jean Arthur, the screwball comedy actress of the Thirties.  Some of you younger readers probably have no idea of who Jean Arthur was but she was a very successful actress.  She was also a very private person.

One of Jean Arthur's few (maybe only) close friend described Jean's personality as she got older:

"She just didn't like people around that much.  She's essentially a loner.  She likes people around when she wants them around.  She didn't need a lot of people to make her happy.  That's the only way to be if you can achieve it."


Asked late in life what advice she would give to young people in the action profession, Arthur replied that she would give none.  "That would be sticking my nose in somebody else's business," she said. "Influencing their lives.  And I think everybody has to find their own way."  


Guess what, Jean Arthur and I have something in common, our outlook on life.


Have a great day!

Neal Patrick Harris Interviewed by Stephen Colbert

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Neil Patrick Harris
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Here is a great interview that Stephen Colbert did with Neal Patrick Harris, the actor and host of the upcoming Tony Awards.  It is interviews like this with men like Neal Patrick Harris that take the stigma off of being gay and showing the world that we gays are no threat to their happiness.  In fact, we're pretty happy people ourselves (most of the time).

Spoiler alert! Neal Patrick Harris outs the biggest gay star in Hollywood. Listen carefully at the end of the interview.

Reconnecting With Old Friends

Peirce College, Philadelphia, PA

This morning I reconnected with an old friend from my college days in Philadelphia.  We both worked at Girard Bank at Broad and Chestnut Streets in center city Philadelphia.  After work we trudged up Broad Street to Broad and Spruce and attended night school at Peirce Junior College.

We were both attending college on the G. I. Bill.  From 1968 to 1972 we went three nights a week after work.  That was a heavy load folks.  After I got my associate degree in business management I quit and concentrated on attending to my neglected personal life which meant more time to go to the many gay bars in center city Philadelphia on the weekends rather than working on term papers.  Rich, my friend, had loftier goals.  He continued on the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania to work for his four year college degree.    He succeeded.

He was (and still is) straight with a family (wife and four children) to support.  His wife was a traditional stay at home wife.  Rich knew I was gay but that didn't bother him.  He liked me in spite of my homosexuality.  Of course I thought he was cute but any thoughts I had about "enhancing" our friendship I dismissed immediately.  I'm not one of those gay guys who harass guys who aren't interested in me.  To me it has to be a two way street.  Still, I enjoyed the company of this attractive and intelligent man three nights a week.

After we both received our associate degrees our close friendship waned.  We didn't work in the same department at the bank which was one of the huge Philadelphia banks.  Occasionally I would see Rich in the cafeteria or on the street but our former close friendship was one of those that drifted off into the past.

For years I have exchanged Christmas cards with Rich and his wife Molly.  Once, about twenty years ago I ran into Rich at a local hardware store near our homes in Pennsylvania.  We both said he would have to get in touch again.  Of course we never did.  We were both caught up in our day to day lives.

Three years ago I saw a notice in the newspaper where one of Rich's daughters died.  The viewing was being held at the funeral home that my family uses.  I decided to stop by after work and pay my respects.  Rich and his wife were surprised to see me in the line of mourners paying respects to his family.  Rich was a little grayer but still the same Rich that I remembered from my friendship with him in the Sixties.  We both mentioned again that we would have to stay in touch.  And again, of course we never did.

Last month Rich's wife called me on the phone to ask me a question about genealogy.  We got to talking and she told me that Rich had retired and why didn't I give him a call.  Of course I didn't. Not that I didn't want to talk to him, I'm just still too caught up in my insular life here.

When I got home from work last night I had this message on my phone:  "Hello, is the famous Ron Tipton Peirce Junior College graduate? Why, this is amazing and I hope to talk to, unfortunately you're not there.  Please call back at 610- ..... and ask for Richard......Bye!"


Listening to the mischievous, mocking, teasing tone of his voice message brought back so many fond memories of our friends lo those many years ago.  I put a note in my iPhone to call him the first thing this morning.

At 7:30 am I called Rich.  He answered the phone.  I didn't identify myself but asked him "Were you still in bed?"   He said "No.  Who is this?"  When I told him "It's Ron!"  Rich said "Ah, Ron!  How are you?" And you know what folks?  I could hear the smile in his voice when he asked me how I was.  We had a very enjoyable two hour conversation, catching up with our lives of the past thirty-five years. Folks, it was just like old times.  Gentle teasing, bragging, complaining...whatever came to my mind, lots of laughter.  Here was someone who wasn't judging me, telling me how to act.  Here was a real friend. Here was someone who liked me for who I am, not for who they want me to be.

Six years ago I moved to Delaware.  I moved to the Rehoboth Beach/Lewes/Milton area which is heavily populated with the LGBT community.  I've tried to make friends with members of this community.  I don't know what happened, maybe it's me maybe it's them but I haven't made any friends in that community.  I moved to Delaware partly because of the low taxes, milder climate, near the water and slower paced lifestyle.  I also thought I would make new friends.  I have made new friends but they're all straight. I have made a few gay friends....through my blog.  I have made NO friends in this community.  And it's not for lack of trying.  But you know folks, I am who I am.  The friends I have made accept me as I am.  I am not perfect.  I have my faults (oh yes) but I also am a pretty nice guy.  Yes, I actually am.  But I'm not a fool or a sucker (no pun intended) no will I be taken for granted, controlled or abused.

After I lost my last so-called gay "friend" (who dismissed me after he took offense to something I wrote in my blog which he thought was directed at him, which even if it was so what?) , I gave up making friends in the LGBT community in this so called Gay East Coast Capital.  I find this bunch of gay folks (and most gay folks to be honest) very self-involved, selfish, and super sensitive to imagined slights.  Folks, I just don't have the time for this foolishness.  I am tired of the silliness.

I don't  believe in a God or a super Being but I do believe in a Guardian Angel and mine came through again.  Now I have another friend to join my boyhood friend (from third grade) who I reconnected with ten years ago.  His name is Larry and he is also straight (which seems to be the only kind of friend who appreciates me as I am).  My former boss from my banking days is also my friend (he's straight) as well as another friend from my band days in high school (who is also straight).  See a pattern here folks?  Yep, I do too.

I would post some photos of my friend but back in those days I didn't take photos (which I regret very much today).  However, I will post photos that I will take after Rich and his wife Molly visit me later this month.  It sure is nice to reconnect with old friends.  This feels good folks.

Snake In The Bluebird House

During our recent Cemetery Tour of the South, Bill encountered a snake in a bluebird house.  The location was the Berea Baptist Church Cemetery in Asheville, North Carolina where my great-great grandmother Martha "Patty" Bailey Tipton Cooper is buried.

Bill peeked in this bluebird house, much like the bluebird houses that we have in our backyard at home in Delaware and was very surprised when a big black snake stuck its head and forked tongue out at him.

Red bellied black snake, much like the one Bill found in the bluebird house

Bill got the snake out of the bluebird house but unfortunately I didn't capture The Moment on my iPhone video because I was at the other end of the cemetery taking photos!  I saw it with mine own eyes though and that was one BIG BLACK SNAKE.

Baby bluebird

This is one of the many short videos that I took during our trip south.  I will be posting more videos in future blog postings and less blog postings of me complaining about something, which I seem to be doing a lot of lately.

I'll try to concentrate on posting happy and light postings in the future.

View from our van headed south to Georgia on I-81 during our recent trip south.

P.S.

Bill didn't kill the snake.  He just got it out of the bluebird box.  Once he got it out (and it was a biggie), the snake wiggled it's way into the nearby woods, obviously full of baby bluebirds.