Queuing Up

From my local supermarket, where I go at least three times a week. My "social " life

 My good friend Ur-Spo over at Spo Reflections recently posted about the frustration of choosing the right line or lane to queue up. He specifically used his supermarket as an example. His post thus begat an idea for this blog posting.

Who hasn't experienced the frustration of "which line to choose" to stand in whilst waiting to check out at their favorite supermarket.

I'm lucky because I rarely have that problem now. The supermarket I frequent has a policy of never letting lines build up. If they see a backup, the management quickly assigns another employee to open a new line and to actually tell shoppers who are standing in line "I'm open, you can come over here." But, it always wasn't that way and even now there are backups. 

Of course I almost always choose the wrong line. However, there are several things to look for at my supermarket. One is the REALLY SLOW CHECKER. Oh my God! There is one lady is looks like she's in slow motion. SOO SLOW. Here line is almost always the shortest, regular shoppers know NOT TO GET IN HER LINE. You'll get out faster standing behind three full shopping carts of people before you get out of her line. I made that mistake just last week. I saw that short line, not paying attention to who the checker was until I was in the line behind a couple of people with only a few items (it was the Express Line, twelve items or less) and her line WAS NOT MOVING. I looked up and there she was. Oh no!  Well, I was already committed so I stayed in her line, watching her move in slow motion, examining every item she scanned and oh so slowly put in a bag. God lady, could you go any slower? And then when I finally get face to face with her, behind the plastic shield a la COVID safety measures these days, I look at her and I swear she has to be on something. She.is.out.of.it. Why is she even working there? 

Before I shopped at this supermarket and when I used to live in center city Philly, I frequently had to contend with rich Jewish widows who would invariably ask to go ahead of me in line because they "only had a few items." The frustrating part of it was I invariable only had a few items myself. WTF? I was working at the time and my time was valuable too. What were they doing? Collecting their dividend checks. I usually let them go ahead of me but one time I wasn't having it. I only had four items. The blue haired entitled rich widow behind me had three items. I had my back to her (on purpose). That didn't deter her though, she came around to my side and looked at my basket (shopping basket that is, not the OTHER one) and said "Can I go ahead of you? I only have a few items." Well, this obviously has always worked for her before, after all Mrs. Entitled. But like I said I wasn't having it and I responded to her "Actually no. I TOO only have a few items and my time is as valuable as  yours is."  She gave me a shocked look, and out of her too much lipsticked mouth came (and I kid you not) "Well! I NEVER!" Can you believe it?  Then to top everything else off, the checker was pissed off at me because I wouldn't let Mrs. Entitled go ahead of me. I didn't know that checker well but I had been in her line many times before and she was always cordial to me. However, after my shocking behavior, I was on the outs with her. Ironically the store was named "Great Scott!"

Now here are some other frustrating delays I've had by choosing the wrong line:

The little old lady who pays cash, right down to the coins (who uses coins anymore?) that she has to search for through her purse change pocket. By the way, they never have their purse ready, they look at the total of the bill then comes the purse she sets on the country. Then two or three snaps to get into the purse to the change holder. Then open the change holder, stop and check the cash register to see the right amount of change she need which invariably she does have the exact amount and if she does its almost always in pennies, nickels and dimes which she has to pull out one at at time with the lint in her change purse all the while frequently checking the amount of change she needs again by looking at the display on the cash register. 

The woman (always) who pays by check. Of course she doesn't pull her checkbook out until the checker is completely done scanning her items. Then again like before, she checks the amount on the cash register display before she writes out her check, tears it off the perforated part then enters the amount in her checkbook and if I'm really lucky she settles her checkbook at that time while the cashier stamps the back of her check. 

The man or woman (this delay is equal opportunity) who doesn't remember their pin number. They play around with trying to enter the right pin number for their debit card, and almost always end up using another form of payment.

The woman (always) who questions the price (almost always an insignificant amount) of a product that she thought "was on sale." If it was on sale lady the scanner would pick it up. But she's not having it. She insists "it was in the newspaper, here look." And yes, always she is wrong but sometimes management lets her have the "sale" price anyway under the banner of "good customer relations." I suspect the woman is a scammer. Probably did it many time before.

Then there is the minority woman (have to be careful her in today's politically correct world) who is paying by something other than credit card, debit card or cash. I think food stamps or some kind of faux money or ......I don't know what but it sure does look like funny money. These transactions are never smooth because the funny money only pays for certain items, the cigarette and steaks she has to pay for by real money which she doesn't want or can't pay for. I remember years ago when I worked hard at the bank and went to night school three nights a week for four years, shopping at Great Scott in Center City Philly and being oh so careful with what I purchased only to see young healthy students whip out their food stamps for steaks, veal, and all kinds of expensive food that I couldn't afford at that time. But that's another whole subject to be (maybe) addressed later.

Then of course there are the Chatty Cathys. These are the supermarket customers who know the cashier and they catch up on all their local gossip whilst we all wait behind them in line. While flapping their gums at one another they are always totally oblivious to the long line behind them waiting patiently just to get out of the store.

And last but not least, there are the Casaova's. That's the guys who work in the store flirting with the cashiers who eat it up. Again, not being politically correct here but always minorities. Always. 

Now having bitched and complained I have to say my local favorite supermarket is better than most but I have experienced all these experiences at that same local favorite supermarket. And to try and redeem myself of being biased against minorities, I will says that at least eighty percent of the minority cashiers are just as efficient as all the other cashiers, who are mostly white and old. And I mean OLD. I swear to God, there was an old man cashier last week that had to be at least Bill's age (93) if not older. I felt sorry for him. He was new and confused. An younger employee had to come by and wipe off his scanner glass because the old guy couldn't figure out why he couldn't scan items.

By the way, I NEVER delay in a line. I have out my supermarket plastic up and ready to be scanned before the checker can even get his scanner gun out. And then I tell him "Credit!" and he/she presses the right key on the cash register so I can tap my credit card and them I'm out of there. You'll never see me holding up a line except for that one time two weeks ago I forget an item and had to ask the cashier to "Hold the line while I run back there and get that half and half."  Yes, that was me. Guilty as charged. 

Hey, I'm human too.

This Snowstorm Passing Us By And Other Tidbits

 

The wind is whipping around outside right now as I type this blog entry. 

The past week the temperatures have been in the low to middle twenties. Lucky for us (me) the temperatures rose this afternoon just as the winter storm was making it's path up the Mid-Atlantic states. We're going to miss the snow on this one, thank God. Thank you Jesus. By the way, I often use religious references but I'm not religious in the least bit. Those terms are just a cultural thing. Thought I would need to explain. Maybe not but I did anyway.

I still have that leak in the basement wall from ground water when it rains like it's raining now. The guys who are going to fix it were supposed to be here Friday but another delay. They said they'll "try and stop by" Monday. Patience Ron, patience. 

Last night I watched an excellent show. It was from my Netflix DVD disc rental. It's from the PBS show "Masterpiece Mystery: Unforgotten: Season 1." Oh my God (there I go again), I do like a good mystery, especially the English produced ones that don't have all the American made cliches. Of course you would need closed captioning because the Brit accents are very heavy and you know these days, most movies and TV shows, the actors mumble. I think that's supposed to be realism but to me I just find them hard to understand. Old movies had a lot wrong and annoying about them, especially the over the should shots but at least they had clear diction and I could understand what they're saying. But back to this movie. Excellent mystery, that's all I can say. Very well done BBC.

Bill continues to plateau out. He will never be the Bill I've known for the past fifty-seven years but he's doing as well as an be expected for a 93 year old who experienced two strokes. This morning was Shower Morning. Bill still can't undress or dress himself but he can stand up holding on to me. Every third day Shower Day, which he hates. Every day I have to change his Depends. I also have to dress his left leg which has developed an open wound from his edema swollen legs. 

Bill is sleeping now in his warm and cozy basement bedroom whilst the rain and wind whip around outside. 

All is well here at Casa Tipton-Kelly. I hope all is well wherever you are.

Blogging Daily

Me at my desk now. This is my life in my very comfortable Delaware home.

Fifteen days into this year and I'm keeping my goal of blogging daily. Of course a blog title of "Blogging Daily" isn't going to get many blog views. but sometimes it's hard to come up with an attention grabbing blog title without wearing out the shock value. Of course my blog title that has received the most hits is "Naked On The Beach."  I really was naked on the beach. It was back in the Seventies and I took the challenge from a guy (Tony Bellafato) who I met on the beach who was into nude sun bathing. I did it because I was curious and wanted to check that hot item off of my bucket list. So here we go folks, probably not my most provocative and titillating blog posting but a slice of my life today. By the way, a nude picture of me lying on the beach today? I would probably lost at least half of my blog followers. You don't want to see my bod these days. I weigh about the same but everything has shifted. 

The temperature is 24 degrees outside right now. There is another winter storm watch this weekend but it looks like we're going to miss the snow here on the Delmarva peninsula. Thank God for small miracles. However, the Carolinas and other south mid Atlantic states won't be so lucky. Hopefully my longtime blogger friend Jon of Lone Wolf Concerto won't lose his power. Jon is up in the Tennessee mountain wilderness all by himself with just possums, mice, raccoons and an occasional snake sneaking into his bedroom bureau drawers. I am familiar with his circumstances, I have relatives from father's side of the family who live in the mountains of western North Carolina near Johnson City, Tennessee. Beautiful country but I wouldn't/couldn't live there. First of all, as beautiful as that area of the country and all those churches, they're very homophobic. I prefer to live out my final days not dodging that relentless hate from my neighbors.

Pat and I are still discussing and and when we move to Palm Springs. Living in Palm Springs is definitely in my future, the only question is will it be full time for just a month or two a year? If I live long enough I will probably need a caregiver myself. I'm no spring chicken at eighty years old. Pat is just seven years younger than me at seventy-three years old. We've made a new friend in Glenn M. who is preparing to move to Palm Springs after losing his partner, Glenn of whom I spoke about early in this blog posting. There are a lot of older gay guys in Palm Springs. I would hate to leave my very comfortable home here in coastal southern Delaware but if I need care, I may not have a choice. I would hate to part with my lifetime of accumulations of things that hold such dear memories but I eventually would lose all that anyway. Decisions, decisions that will have to be made in the future. As for right now my immediate priority is taking care of Bill. This time next year, who knows?

What is your situation? Do you plan to fade out at where you live now?

One Year Ago Today

 

The 911 ambulance take Bill to the hospital this time last year

One year ago today I found Bill unconscious on his bedroom floor. 

I could not arouse him.

I called 911.

They came and took him to the local hospital emergency room.

Later that day, when I was at work at the hotel, they called me and asked my permission to airlift him to the Thomas Jefferson University Hospital in Philadelphia. Bill was near death from a stroke (blood clots in his lungs from his a-fib) and they didn't think he would survive the two hour drive from Lewes to Philadelphia. 

I gave them permission to airlift him to Philadelphia. 

Bill finally had his first ride in a helicopter but to this day he remembers nothing about it.

The next six days he was in the ICU unit of the Thomas Jefferson University Hospital. They saved his life

Then he was transported to the PAM Rehabilitation Hospital in Dover, Delaware. 

He spent two weeks at PAM.

February 4th, I brought him home. 

He's been with me ever since and now it is time for his daily ride.

I am so thankful that they saved his life and that he is now at home, under hospice care, and with me. 

Have a great day everyone!

One Year Ago Today

 

Bill, January 13, 2021 one day after his first fall

One year ago today, I began my day by walking around the corner from my bedroom to our kitchen. I almost tripped over Bill, lying unconscious on the floor by the refrigerator.

Bill always got up before me.  I was used to seeing him sitting in his chair in our sunroom. I would greet him with my favorite pet name (which I won't divulge here). 

This morning as I looked down at Bill lying on his back, his toupee knocked off from his head, I was momentarily stunned. Was he dead? Why did he fall? 

I knelt down, placed his toupee back on his head,  and tried to get him up. He groaned and slowly came too. I asked him "What happened?" He groggily said "I don't know."

I don't remember much of the exact sequence of our following conversation other than I began making is breakfast of oatmeal and started our daily morning routine. We talked about about why he would have lost consciousness but soon reverted to our normal daily morning routine, which questions of why Bill passed out receding in the background of our daily life.

Two days later, January 14th, I rounded the corner from my bedroom to the kitchen and Bill wasn't in his chair in the sunroom. He wasn't on the floor either. I went downstairs to his bedroom and found Bill again unconscious on the floor of his bedroom. This time I couldn't rouse him. I had to call 911 and they took him to the emergency room. And thus began this year long change of life for both of us. 

I am so thankful that Bill is still here with me. Is he the same Bill before his two strokes? No, and he never will be the same Bill. But he's with me, knows who I am and is not in pain. That's all that counts now. Every day I have with him and can take care of him here at home is a blessing.

Brrrrr!

Finally! We have cold weather!

Last year here in southern coastal Delaware where Bill and I reside at our almost one acre Casa Tipton-Kelly, the winter weather was mild. 

We did not get any snow. 

We did not have any extended stretches of days of twenty degree weather. 

As a result, this summer we had a very destructive invasion of army worms that devastated our lush back yard of almost one acre. I was told that was because the mild winter we had last year didn't kill off the grubs that were lying in wait just below our verdant surface of expensively maintained lush carpet of green Kentucky blue grass, which I often received compliments ("You have such a great lawn!") all summer long. Not last summer after the forty-eight hours that the army worms turned that lush green lawn into a brown, smelly (army worm urine, thousands if not millions of the) Mars like landscape. There was nothing I could do but hang my head in shame every time a neighbor saw my lawn and gave me that Pity Look that one gives neighbors who don't take care of their lawn. We all know one of the requirements of American culture in a fou fou development, a LUSH GREEN LAWN. I joined the ranks of the scuzzies last year with my stinky brown lawn. Now with this freeze, those frigging army worm grub are GONE, GONE, GONE.

I can deal with the freezing cold weather, even the snow. We have a propane gas heated house. I love gas heat. I would prefer natural gas but that wasn't available for us. In Pennsylvania we had a heat pump which sucked. We were talked into that by the builder. Come to find out that was the cheapest option for him when he was building our house. Electric heat is not only expensive, I find it very uncomfortable. Propane gas heat isn't cheap either but at least I don't have $400 plus monthly heating bills, which is what I would have for the electric heat backup to the heat pump. There is no heat to be extracted from the outside by a heat pump when the temperature is in the Twenties. Propane gas cost us $260 a month which is expensive enough.

So we're in a cold spell here folks. If this is what it takes to get rid of those army worms, I'll take it.

Stay warm everyone!

 

"That Prescription Is Refillable, It Will Be Mailed Within Five To Seven Days"

 

Bill in Germany U. S. Occupation Forces 1947

For about twenty-five years now I hear that recording after I phone in a prescription refill to the Veterans Administration. 

I have full Medicare coverage. I also have supplemental coverage with AARP (United Healthcare). My so called "free Medicare" (with supplemental) costs me $462.00 a month ($189 deducted monthly from my modest Social Security account - I had to start collecting early since I had no job at 62 - and $275 a month for my supplemental insurance. Thus I now pay $5,544 a year a year for medical coverage which doesn't include eye care, dental or hearing. The eye care is only covered by one eye examination a year, I pay for eye glasses which I just got at the discount B.J.'s for $417 (two pairs of eyeglasses - sunglasses one). My dental, which I need, I've paid thousands of dollars over the years out of pocket. For a short period of time when I had a full-time job in Philadelphia, I did have dental insurance which paid for part of my dental expenses, usually just the cleaning. Now days I pay everything out of pocket and as you know, if you go to the dentist it is VERY EXPENSIVE. I used to go to a gay dentist, not because he was gay (a coincidence) but because he was good and he was. But I stopped going to him because he took every Friday off to fly down to Miami Beach Florida to cavort with his gay friends at the former Versace home which is now a fou for restaurant ("fine dining"). It bugged me that I was contributing to that lavish and decadent lifestyle. Main reason I changed was because when I needed him for an emergency he wasn't available. I changed dentists and now I used another dentistry, which is also very good and expensive but at least I don't know where the money is going. But I digress. As usual, I start of a blog post with one thing in mind and my stream of consciousness takes me down a completely different path. Back to the subject at hand, my prescriptions.

Back when I was working at the bank for my main career (before hotel work at the end of my career), I had full medical coverage. Never used it once. Never. After I lost my job I figured I had better have some kind of coverage. I remembered the VA. When I joined the Army back in 1960 I was told I had "Free lifetime medial coverage.....if I needed it."  Well, I needed it then in 1994 when I was sans medical coverage. I didn't want to take a chance without medical coverage so I decided to swallow my pride and I made a visit to the VA to sign up. "Swallow my pride?", remember back then only poor, loser vets signed up for the VA. When I asked a good friend of mine if he was signing up, he said "Why should I? I HAVE a doctor and I have a job."  He was also of the entitled class who had everything handed to him basically his whole life. College education paid for by his family. Wife to take care of running his household which included everything from cooking his meals to running errands and paying the bills. One time we went out to dinner together and I casually asked him how much he was earning from his job and he said "I don't know." He said his wife "takes care of that." I was astounded. Didn't even know how much he made? Well, of course there came a time when he too lost his job, because he was of that age when corporation discard older workers even if they did work in Human Resources, which he did. He was in shock when he lost his job. Bereft of a plan, he broke down. Of course his wife took the reins again and studied their options and made a plan. Since he was eligible for VA benefits (he was drafted, God forbid he would ever join the Army voluntarily). So he swallowed his pride and applied at the local VA, the same VA when I had applied when I lost my job. He now receives his prescriptions through the VA and has no loss in status in his neighborhood. I was talking to him recently at the high cost of heart medication that both he and Bill take and he said "I get mine through the VA too."  My friend has come a long way, not ashamed to admit he gets his medications through the VA.I have to admit I was surprised hearing him say this but even he realizes the value of saving money because prescriptions can be and are expensive in this country.

There came a time during the Bush administration that the Republicans decided that they should save some more money but cutting the benefits to veterans like me, who weren't disabled and discontinue our VA benefits. You know, the Republicans of "we can never had too many tax cuts for our rich, corporate paymasters?" There was a predicable outcry from veterans organizations so the Republican controlled Congress decided to grandfather the benefits. Those veterans, like me, who were already receiving prescription drug benefits but new veterans would not. The Republicans instituted eight classes of veterans. Those who has no disabilities were classified at the lowest level, Class 8. Those veterans with disabilities received lower classifications. So if you were a blind, paralyzed, veterans missing limbs you would be classified as one, two or three. Bill is now classified as four, because of his blindness. He pays nothing for his medications. I am still classified as eight, and I pay $8 for a 30 day supply or $24 for a ninety day supply of medication, no matter what the medication. By the way, I changed my registration from a lifetime Republican to Democrat when the Bush administration and the Republicans in Congress tried to take away my promised Veterans benefits. That's when I realized the Republicans care nothing for the average man or woman nor do they honor promises. Remember when I joined one of the promises made was "Lifetime medical care.....if needed." Ironically after I lost my job at the bank and didn't have medical coverage, it was a good thing I signed up at the VA because shortly there after I needed two major surgeries. I also had two medical emergencies and needed medications. Thank God I had signed up at the VA. I wasn't too proud to sign up either, I earned those benefits. I put my life on the line for three years for that promise. The same as bill did for nine years of total service with both the Army and the Air Force when he was stationed with the occupation forces after World War II in Germany (Army)  and then Japan (Air Force). 

Bill had joined the Army when he left his home in Georgia. There was no promise of a paid college education for him either, his only choice to support himself when he left school was to join the service. That was also my choice. My Mother told me back in Nine Grade when it was time for me to choose a pre college course or other high school course upon entering high school. No comfortable golden path for us to enter adult hood. No fraternity, college campuses, beer parties, fun a frolic. Oh wait, there were beer parties and "fun and frolic", just with a bunch of other guys like us who came from more modest family circumstances (read "poor as shit.")

For many years I was resentful of my college bound friends whose families had the means to prepare them for a successful career in adulthood by paving the way for them by paying their college expenses. I guess I still have some of that resentment, especially when many of them took useless courses like "political science" (what the fuck is that?) or failed in college like my friend I spoke of earlier. He wasn't dumb, in fact he was and is very intelligent, more so than me. When we were in school together he rarely studied for tests but always got good grades, mostly A's and a few B's and never anything lower. And he did it with such easy. Maybe because his last name started with a "B" and he always sat in front of the class whereas I always sat in the back because my last name starts with a "T." I understand schools don't do that now, seat pupils alphabetically, because it causes psychological harm and it does. I can attest to that. And the fact that I was tall for my age I was always told to "stand in the back" whenever for group settings. Another blow to my fragile sense of self confidence especially me with a father he constantly mocked me and never gave me any reason for self pride. For my grades, mostly B's and some C's  and an occasional D, I worked for those grades. I'm still not the sharpest knife in the drawer but I work folks. And I work hard to make up for my lack of natural intelligence or brain matter. 

Some of us are just born smarter, what we do with our lives is our own choice. Others have to work at making our place in the world because little is handed to us. I think this is one reason why so many poor white men are resentful of minorities these days getting all the attention. They feel those minorities are getting free ride, which isn't true of course, why they have to work hard for anything they get. But again I digress into a political discourse. Been there, done that but it's not productive to rehash those old arguments again or as others say "beat that dead horse."

So I placed my order for a refill of my anti cholesterol medication last night and I am again reminded that at one time of my life I had the right decision. 

Note: there are more than a few times when I have made the wrong decision in my life but joining the Army wasn't one of them. One of the best decisions I ever made in my life. I learned more from my three years in the Army that I would ever have learned in eight years of college.