Home Sweet Home

Casa Tipton-Kelly this morning

 This is a picture of the front of our home that I took this morning when I returned from my short walk.

Casa Tipton-Kelly, our home here in southern coastal Delaware (east of One!) since we moved here in 2006 is the best and last home I plan to have. It is my intention to end my days in this house.

Pat wants to eventually move to Palm Springs. While I love Palm Springs I cannot see giving up this almost perfect (no place is absolutely perfect) home and start all over again. I could never get a home like this in Palm Springs. 

First of all homes in Palm Springs don't have basements. I need a basement wherever I live. 

We also have four full bathrooms in this home. We lived in a large house in Pennsylvania but only had the standard two and a half baths. I found out quickly that didn't work for us because both Bill and I have our own bedrooms with our own bathroom. When we had company at our house in Pennsylvania our guest had to use one of our bathrooms. That's why we didn't have guests too often. In fact I can only remember one time we had a guest at our home in Pennsylvania in the whole twenty-five years we lived there. That's probably why we didn't have guests.

Here in Delaware, I have a bathroom for every bedroom, a FULL bath. Of course most of the time we don't use two of the bathrooms. I have to remember to occasionally flush those toilets just to keep the toilet water fresh.

Here at our home in Delaware we finally have a place where we have nice neighbors who are respectful of us even though they are straight and Bill and I are gay. No "looks" or other actions to make one feel uncomfortable in one's own neighborhood like we experienced in all previous places we lived. 

Another big plus is this neighborhood is so quiet. I LOVE quiet. No screaming kids even though we have children next to us and across the street. No screaming unlike our home in Pennsylvania where "Stephanie" (our neighbor's little girl) always started the day screaming as she ran out to her pool. And her playdates were a nightmare, all those screaming kids. The acoustics were like a megaphone straight down to our house. And to top everything else off they had FOUR ATV'S which they likes to race around the perimeters of their two acre property for hours on end. We moved to "the woods" for peace and quiet and what did we get? Noise. And of course we got the homophobia. I've already went into that in previous blog posts about their anti gay actions towards us and I'm not going to go there again.

Check out my front lawn in this picture. Nice huh? I've always wanted to live in a place with a nice lawn. Be careful what you wish for Ron. Well, I have the nice lawn but man oh man is it ever expensive to lawn treatments. I'm not sure if I can afford that expense if I'm living here by myself. Oh I'll manage somehow, my lawn (and my pond) are two things which give me a great deal of pleasure. And yes, I do the mowing. 

A friend of mine is visiting in a couple of weeks. I'll ask him to take a video of me mowing the lawn. I like mowing our lawn. I find it relaxing riding around on my John Deere Zero Degree riding lawn mower. Both my neighbors on either side have Jose (our local lawn mowing guy) mow their lawns. I'm holding out for now but I see Jose eyeing my lawn. I have the biggest lot here, .97 acres whereas my neighbors have .75 acres. I have a corner pie shaped lot, which is what I was looking for. Our lot backs up to a corn field. I didn't want a lot that backed up to another neighbor's lot. 

As I have mentioned many times before in previous blog posts I grew up living in second floor apartments. For a brief period (less than a year) I actually lived in a small ranch house (1958-59) and then I was off to the Army for a three year stint. After I got out back to apartments. One room efficiencies, garden type apartments until finally a small town house in center city Philadelphia. I've lived in houses ever since. 

I will live in this house pictured at the top of this blog until my last day on earth. The only way I will leave it will be on a gurney through the garage. That's the plan. 

Have a great day!

Number One Problem For Caregiving An Elderly Patient

 This morning was particularly bad for caregiving. It was Shower Day (every third day) which is always a challenge. Bill just doesn't want a shower but he needs one. Never again will I have him going to the hospital and they have to give me fungus medicine for parts of his body. Bill just is not good a personal hygiene. A terrible thing to say and a "deal breaker" for some of the readers of this blog but remember Bill and I don't sleep together. It wasn't until later years I noticed the body odor. He doesn't have that now because I insist on a shower every third day. That said, Shower Days are a still a challenge. Especially for me with my ever increasing arthritis which stiffens my body and decreases my flexibility. Hell, I even have trouble showering myself these days. I can't stand flamingo like on one leg while I was my other leg and foot. I have to lean on the shower wall to perform that task.

Eating is an increasing problem for Bill. This morning was particularly bad. His throat (esophagus) is shot. They wanted to replace it during his last hospital stay (I declined, he's too old for an operation like that) or feed him through a tube in his stomach. I declined the feeding tube to his stomach option too. I continue to puree his twice daily main meal of oatmeal, four tablespoons of sugar, oat milk and banana. After this morning I don't know how much longer we can hold out from those other options. Poor Bill, his body is just wearing out like his old Jeep Laredo. 

Bill's legs were doing well for the past few months but now the blisters are showing up again. He's been cutting back on his twice daily feeding of egg custard which supplies much needed protein for healing. That's how we got past his last major edema blister infections. It was such a relief for both of us not to have to bandage up his legs every morning when I dressed him. Oh yes, Bill still can't dress himself. Every now and then I give him the opportunity to try but he just can't. He get too confused. 

That brings us to the latest problem. One of his hearing aids doesn't work. Probably needs cleaned which I don't know how to do. I have to make an appointment at the hearing aid place. I called this morning but they're closed Fridays (of course they are). "Summer hours" was what the recording said. 

I sent the VA an e-mail asking them if Bill was still authorized to use this hearing aid facility. One has to have VA authorization or else we have to pay for that service ourselves. I already got caught on that once with an eye examination. Things are tight around here what with me not working at the hotel for the past two and a half years and prices going up on everything from lawn care (a major expense here) to grocery products. 

And this brings me to the subject of this blog. Know what the Number One Problem Of Caregiving An Elderly Patient is? It's addressing the patient's memory problem. I must have told Bill at least four times this morning that I have to call the hearing aid place to make an appointment to have his hearing aid checked. An hour later he asks me "What are you going to do?" I tell him again. About forty-five minutes laters he asks me again. Again I tell him that I have to get authorization from the VA and take his hearing aid to the hearing aid place and get it checked. It probably just needs cleaned. Guess what? He just asked me again "What are you going to do?"  Now I'm getting exasperated and tell him "I just told you FOUR times I have to have the hearing aid place checkout your hearing aid." Know what? He'll asked me at least two or three more times today and all through the weekend "What are you going to do?" 

And that folks is the Number One Problem For Caregiving An Elderly Patient: Memory loss.

And this caregiver has to be patient (no pun intended) when I explain again (and again, and again, and again, and again) that I have to take his hearing aid to the hearing aid place to be repaired. 

I was talking to Pat earlier about this situation. Pat will probably be my caregiver should I last that long (which I seriously doubt). If I find myself in that situation I'm checking out folks. Count on it folks. 

Plumber Visit

The plumber "repairing" my garbage disposal yesterday morning.

Oh I had one of THOSE days yesterday!

My garbage disposal wasn't working. I've had this garbage disposal since 2006, when this house was built. Since the average lifespan of garbage disposals are ten to twelve years, I figure my garbage disposal had bought the ghost. Even though I don't dispose of garbage via my garbage disposal (I wonder how many times I'm going to say "garbage disposal" in this posting!), I do run it occasionally to make sure the remnants of Bill's pureed oatmeal goes down the drain. And of course the general muck that accumulates. But Sunday when I flipped the garbage disposal switch, just a slight humming sound. 

I put a call into my service company which I have a maintenance contract with for my HVAC, electric and plumbing. I told them it wasn't an emergency so the plumber came out yesterday morning. That's one good thing about this service company, they do come out which is always a challenge here in Slower Lower Delaware. They're costly, but they DO come out which in the end is important.

Well, yesterday I learned a valuable lesson. It was VERY COSTLY because all the plumber had to do was reset the button on the bottom of my disposal with that Alan wrench that lies on the floor of my sink cabinet. SO THAT IS WHAT THAT TOOL IS FOR. He said the disposal was jammed and this wrench application (turning it right or left on the bottom of the disposal) resets it. And indeed the garbage disposal was now working. 

So what was the cost for this maybe thirty second job. Just to come out (he came from Maryland) is $49. Then there is a "diagnostic" cost of $125. That's wright kids, a total cost of $174 for turning the screw. Something I could have easily done had I not continue to be so stupid with handyman jobs. Oh well, ANOTHER lesson learned. At this time of my life I would think I've learned enough "lessons" but I guess there is always room for more lessons. Now if Bill was his normal self (before his strokes and blindness) he would have easily fixed it. Never in a million years did I expect to become the handyman around Casa Tipton-Kelly but it is happening by increments. 

This keeps up I'll go to my grave butch.

Hunky Guy At The Jersey Shore 1965

Me, 1965 at "The Jersey Shore" (Ocean City, New Jersey)

This picture posted on my Facebook account. When I first saw it my first reaction was "Who is this hunky guy?" Then I realized "IT'S ME!" And indeed it was.

This picture brings back memories of the first and only time I visited the New Jersey beaches. Growing up my family never took me and my brothers to "the shore." The best they could do was a local murky stream up the road from our house on Boot Road. It wasn't so bad, especially on those hot muggy summer August days. In fact me and my brothers LOVED it as did our dog "Sam."

Me and my brothers Isaac and John and our dog Sam at the local waterhole 1956

When I moved in with Bill in 1965 on of the first things I wanted to do was to go "to the shore." Of course he granted my wish (as he has always done) and we headed to the Ocean City New Jersey shore. 

I was so excited! Finally, I was going to experience the ultimate summer experience, the Jersey Shore!

Well, it didn't turn out as I expected. Every time I ventured out in the water the lifeguard blew his whistle. 

I didn't go out that far, I wanted to go at least to my waist high. The lifeguard wouldn't let me do it. Blowing on that damn whistle of his. I couldn't go out more than knee length. WTF? 

I looked up at him in frustration after the fourth whistle blow and saw him on his high white stand, slouched on his back; red trunks, tan, sunglasses and whistle drooping in his mouth like a cigarette. WTF? 

I asked him "Why"? He dismissively said "DON'T GO OUT PAST THE JETTYS!" I went to the end of the stone jetty and the water was only up to my knees.

I left the beach and walked on the sun backed hot sand to where Bill was reclining on the beach under a beach umbrella. I told him what happened and said "Let's go home." We left and I have never returned to the Jersey shore again.

In the years since I've been on beaches but only where there are no slouchy lazy lifeguards playing the role. Of course these days which my reoccurring regular visits to my dermatologist to burn off the latest pre cancerous skin lesions (actinide keratosis) I only look at the beach from the boardwalk. Ironically I don't even visit in the summertime here in Rehoboth Beach because of the hordes of summertime tourists. Only if Pat comes down to visit, which he may next month, will I go. Otherwise I restrict my beach visits to walks on the boardwalk in the fall and mild days in the winter. 

Seeing this blurry picture of me in my youth brought back both fond memories of when my body was young and healthy and it didn't ache like it does now. Unfortunately it also brings back that bad memory of how New Jersey "the shore" sucked.  

 

Good Neighbors

 

Bill and our neighbor Bob yesterday

How are you surviving in this cauldron of heat?

The picture is of my Bill with our neighbor Bob. Bob is the best neighbor we have ever had in all our years together. Bob's wife died a few years ago. Bob lives alone with his puppy an Australian cattle dog poodle mix named "Cleopatra". Bob goes fishing usually every Wednesday. I walk Cleo for him on those days. Cleo is in love with me. God, who isn't? (sarcasm). 

Me and Cleo

Our friendship with Bob is very odd because Bob is very MAGA. Yes, a very strong Trump supporter! We don't talk about THAT though. Although I do see the Trump signs and flags in his garage when I go over to get Cleo for her walk. Bob's late wife Barbara

Bill and Barbara

was also a very good friend of me and Bill. Also a strong Trump support and she DID talk about it which I often had to change the subject. She liked me and Bill and likewise we liked her. She was smart, funny and generous as is Bob. Bob often brings me fruit and vegetables and somedays his delicious pasta salad. He used to bring Bill some of the fish he caught, cooked and all. I would never cook fish in our house, I hate that smell. However, over time Bill got tired of all the fish he was bringing us and I had to ask Bob to stop giving us his caught fish. 

Bill and Bob used to talk all the time but since Bill's strokes and his blindness, they rarely talk.  When Bob did stop over for a visit Bill often wouldn't know who he was and couldn't understand what he was saying. Gradually the visits stopped. However, I often talk to Bob during our mutual encounters in our backyards. As I said his dog LOVES me and if she see's me out back she whines for her treat and some loving, which I gladly give to her. Bob jokingly accuses of me of "stealing" his dog. 

Bob's wife and I often had talks about me and Bill being gay. She was curious because Bill and didn't fit the stereotype of gay men. She most gay men were effeminate, promiscuous (i.e., sluts), lived in gay ghettos like the inner cities. Here Bill and I are living in a suburban neighborhood with all straights. When Bill and I first moved to our development there were four gay couples living here, two female and two male. They all moved, just me and Bill left. And we're quite happy here. First time in our lives together that we have lived in a neighborhood where we weren't discriminated against. Just another good reason to live in Delaware besides the great low taxes! One question she asked always amused me and Bill, she wanted to know "who was the wife and who was the husband?" in our relationship. I had to patiently explain to her that there was no "wife" in our relationship, we were just two men living together. She insisted "There HAS to be a wife and husband." I never did convince her. She said more than once, referring to Bill who she was very attracted to "You just haven't mean the right woman." Right Barbara! And I responded to her and "You just haven't met the right woman to turn you gay!" Oh we had a grand old time. I miss Barbara. 

My wish now is that Bill and I pass on before our neighbor Bob. I don't think at this time of our lives, where Bill has these health problems and I'm having increasing health challenges, that we could take another round of bad neighbors. 

There are many things I will never forget about our friendship with Barbara but one that has always stuck in my mind was when she casually remarked to me one day "I don't see what Bill sees in you."

OMG!

 

Provincetown Bear Week - Traveling Tom - Tom Goss

Fifty years ago this month I made my first visit to Provincetown, Massachusetts. 

Fifty years ago, think about that period of time. I am indeed one of the lucky few to have survived in life this long. 

My Old Time Photo taken on my first visit to Provincetown in 1973

Those were the carefree days when most of us thought we would live forever. At least I did. I gave little thought to being old.

Me in my much younger days at Herring Cove, National Seashore Park, Provincetown, Mass. I weigh the same but my body doesn't look like this now. No more showing off at Herring Cove should I return!

In fact I never believed that I would live past sixty years old. And yet here I am at the very old age of eighty-one, one year older than our often derided president who at eighty is often touted as "too old to run for president." 

Well, I can talk better that Old Joe but I can't walk much better. I really struggle to walk up stairs. Recently I found that if I grasp the railing with both hands I can pull myself up the stairs with relative ease. Which makes me thing, "Can I ever go back to work at the hotel?" should my caregiving days end? I'm thinking no, maybe not. 

"Angel's Landing", where I used to stay when I visited Provincetown in the 70's. Right downtown on Commercial Street, where all the action was. I rented a bike and got everywhere including Herring Cove outside downtown Provincetown

Recently I've been giving a lot of thought to visiting Provincetown just one more time before I cross over the Rainbow Bridge. Oh how I would love that! To visit my old haunts on Commercial Street, the main drag (no pun intended) in Provincetown.

Real outdoor cafe dining in Provincetown, probably about 1990, my last visit to Provincetown

One of my blogger buddies visits Provincetown several times a year. He suggested that maybe we can all get together for another Bloggerpalooza. What a wonderful idea! Our last Bloggerpalooza was here in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware nine years ago in 2014. Man oh man, where does the time go?

Me in Provincetown Harbor, Labor Day 1979

Of course we could only do this Bloggerpalooza if Spo and Someone attend and (hopefully) Fearsome Beard. Also anyone else who wants to meet in person me and my blogger friends. 

Commercial Street, Provincetown, Mass - yes, traffic share the main drag with the tourists. Took some getting used to but once you realized that you're on vacation and everybody is relaxed, it works! Lots of straight people during the day ("Day Trippers") - no judgements!

Of course Pat will be with me. He's never been to Provincetown and doesn't seem to enthused about it but I and confident one he sets foot on Commercial Street, he will experience the total feeling of freedom that Provincetown offers members of the gay community. 

Me (practically naked on the right) with two of my friends Gino and Bob, both of whom since deceased
.

.Provincetown is the first place in this world where I didn't feel "less than." Even though there are a lot of straight people (mostly Day Trippers), they realize that P-town is OUR PLACE and they know their place in that rarefied atmosphere that only Provincetown has to offer.

Me (right) out for a sail boat ride with my boyfriend Brad (since passed away) in Provincetown Harbor 1980

Brad and I imbibing in a glass of white wine on a very windy day in Provincetown Harbor 1980

Followers of this blog know that Pat and I fell in love with Palm Springs, California which also has a large gay population (mostly older well to do men) but Provincetown is different. At least it was when I last visited in 1990. All walks of  the social economic gay community. Not just the older, affluent gay men that is Palm Springs. Plus, Provincetown is just fun. 

Me with color coordinated socks and T-shirt on a pier in Provincetown Harbor 1976

Just one more time to attend the daily Tea Dance (4 PM) at the Boatslip on Commercial Street and dance to "I Will Survive" by Gloria Gaynor. 

That is my wish.

Me relaxing at Angel's Landing. Provincetown is the one place in my life hat I felt totally relaxed and FREE! Palm Springs comes a close second only because the gay presence in Palm Springs is almost exclusively older well off gay men who tend to be very cliquish. In Provincetown I met all  types of men from across the country. Everybody was relaxed. No cliques!

Tony Bennett - Fly Me To The Moon (In Other Words)

Tony Bennett died yesterday at age 96 years. What a wonderful, long and productive life he lead.

"Fly Me To The Moon" is my favorite Tony Bennett song. It is perfection. Every time I hear him sing this song, I choke up and tears come to my eyes.

I first remember hearing Tony Bennett in 1957. This was during the height of the rock 'n roll era. I was waiting for the next Elvis Presley song and here comes Tony with "Just In Time." What? This was a classic crooner song intruding on my rock 'n roll immersion. But I liked it! I never was a fan of the Bing Crosby type of crooning but Tony Bennett? Perfection! Such diction, clarity and sincerity! 

Some singers just sing songs. Robert Goulet and John Davidson come immediately to my mind. I always thought Bing Crosby was vastly overrated. What an awful man in his private life! I never got that feeling with Tony Bennett. Every time I saw him he had this big sincere smile on his face. Not a plastered fake smile or ever a scowl many of our so called heart throbs like Brad Pitt and others of his ilk. Those actors and singers who act like they're doing you a favor by performing for us. Not Tony Bennett, you could tell he thoroughly enjoyed through his performances giving pleasure to his audiences. 

I sort of "met" Tony once. It was during the Sixties when I work at Girard Bank in center city Philadelphia. Girard Bank was located at Broad and Chestnut Streets, next to Philadelphia City Hall. A block up Broad Street was the Bellevue Strafford Hotel. Apparently Tony was staying at the Bellevue. I was out on the street going to lunch. I passed Tony as he was rounding the corner from Broad Street to Chestnut Street. I recognized him immediately with his thousand watt smile and (obvious) hairpiece. We made eye contact and he nodded to me. I wanted to stop him and tell him how much I admired him and his songs but I didn't want to bother him. He was by himself and obviously enjoying his walk that sunny summer afternoon. Interesting, during that same week I also passed the actor Tony Perkins. That encounter was much different. Tony too was by himself but scowling and not enjoying his walk. Her persona in real life was much like his persona in his films, or at least that was my impression at that time. Of course I didn't dare stop him and tell him how much he scared the bejesus out of me in his film "Psycho".  Not for me that scowl, I much preferred the sunny disposition of Tony Bennett.

Rest in peace Tony and God bless you for sharing your gift with us for all these years.