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| Pat and me at the Purple Parrot in Rehoboth Beach, DE |
Thirteen years ago I met this goofy little Canadian in the Hotel Blue parking lot in Lewes Delaware.
Today he is my husband.
He always makes me smile.
I am the luckiest man in the world.
Happy anniversary Pat!
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| A selfie I took this morning on my back deck with my new tripod. |
Finally! After all these years I finally got a tripod that accommodates my iPhone.
For years I've been asking Bill to take photos of me. Then when he lost his vision to macular degeneration I had to figure out another way to take pictures of me. When I was with Pat I would ask him, which he would often accommodate me, but I know it wasn't his thing. It wasn't really Bill's thing either. Both of these men, lovely men who I loved and love dearly, weren't as interested in taking photos as I was and still am.
The rare time I would attempt to take a selfie or a video (I took some of me and Bill a few months before he died), I would prop my iPhone up on the kitchen counter or some other surface. I have several older tripods but they don't accommodate iPhones. They have that screw in the bottom for SLR cameras. I have an SLR camera but haven't used it in years. Paid over a thousand dollars for it too! Does anyone use SLR cameras anymore? Even the ones that take videos, which mine does?
So folks, expect a lot more current pictures of me and even videos. I'm sure some of you are very tired of seeing my old photos posted over and over again to this blog. Now you'll get to see me in all my rapidly deteriorating physical state, especially my posture problem (called humpback) where I can no longer stand up straight. My condition is called "age-related hyperkyphosis or a "dowagers hump" which is usually caused by a combination of bone leaking, muscle loss, spinal wear and tear and every day postural habits. I'm in good company. Below is 96 year old Clint Eastwood.
That's it for today folks.
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| Photo taken this morning with my new tripod with remote control! |
Well folks, here we go again. I just completed opening a Substack account. Click here:
I started this process about a week ago. At times it was frustrating going through the procedure only to encounter another hurdle. But after a long and frustrating morning, I think I accomplished my goal.
Here is the link to my Substack account.
Now of course the obvious question is:
"Ron, why are you opening a Substack account?"
Good question and I have an easy answer. To earn extra money to supplement my household income.
Now the next obvious question is:
"Ron, what would be different in your new Substack postings than I already read now in your Blogger postings?"
Again, another good question! And I have an easy answer:
Not much really.......at first. Maybe, as I get more comfortable with the Substack format, which I like very much, I'll have extra content that I'm unable to have on this Blogger format.
Last question:
"Ron, will you keep your Retired in Delaware blogger account?"
Answer: Absolutely! I've been blogging for twenty-one years now. I'm comfortable here and here I will stay until exit Casa Tipton-Kelly on a gurney.
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| Pat's home in downtown Hamilton, Ontario, Canada March 27, 2024 (the one on the left with a yellow door) |
Remember a few years back when I wrote about Pat's problem neighbor?
Pat lives in downtown Hamilton, Ontario, Canada on Hess Street.
He moved there three years ago after selling his penthouse condo at the former Royal Connaught Hotel (at a big loss) when the housing market in Canada was collapsing.
He was lucky to find this gem of a small house that was built in 1910. He fell in love with it right away, being the minimalist that he is.
The location (downtown, right next to Hess Village) was perfect.
The size (under six hundred square feet) was also perfect. Pat is the opposite of me. I like a big house (mine is over 5200 square feet).
However, there was one big problem that Pat didn't discover until after he moved in.
Pat's house is on the left (yellow door).
The problem is the middle house. It's inhabited by squatters. Druggie squatters.
Well, not actually squatters. The woman who occupies it is the granddaughter of a man who died intestate. He owned several properties in Hamilton, all in disrepair. She doesn't own the house. She (Kim). , with her druggie boyfriend (Ray, also the father of her children, Pat thinks they are married), moved in three years ago.
After they moved in Pat and his neighbors began to see a steady flow of "customers."
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| Yes, this is a real picture of some of Pat's neighbor's visitors. I wonder what the draw is? |
Sex (yes) customers.
"Houston, we have a problem here."
I could write a small book about all the going ons the past three years but I don't have the time here to do that. But what I can say that this has been a nightmare for Pat and his neighbors, especially the woman (Samantha) who lives in the other small house connected on the right. The druggie squatters live (if it can be called living) in the middle house.
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| Ray, Pat and Sam's neighbor and what the inside of their "home" looks like. Sam snuck this picture. |
When they first moved in they didn't have running water or electricity. They were probably stealing Pat or Sam's facilities. Pat and Sam ended that.
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| More "merchandise" from Pat's neighbors - right on the front lawn |
Then the druggies were keeping Pat and Sam up all night (at that time Sam was the full-time caregiver of her dying husband, who has since died) with hammering on the walls (they must of been doing redecorating), loud arguments (always from the woman who was screaming at her partner and father of her four children who aren't there thank God), and the worst of all the constant stream of unsavory characters coming and going at all hours. The only quiet times were in the morning. Pat and Sam suspect they're vampires.
Now for the past three years Pat and Sam have complained and complained to the city authorities. Made calls to the police. Contacted and paid lawyers to see what they can do about having their druggie neighbors evicted because they haven't paid taxes (of course) for the past three years.
About two months ago Ray disappeared. Pat and Sam think he's in jail. Arrested for either selling drugs (which they obviously were doing out of this house) and/or selling stolen goods (lots of furniture and clothing and other items pass through their doors).
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| This picture taken last month of Kim sitting on her front stoop with a friend. Pat tells friends who visit him that he lives on Skid Row. I actually feel sorry for her. What a waste of a life. |
Since Ray disappeared from the scene it's been relatively quiet. Except for two occasions when someone else was over there and left the radio on all night blasting. Both Pat and Sam called the authorities but they couldn't do anything (break in). Eventually that stopped but someone else is there. Pat and Sam don't know who but this whole thing seems to be coming to a head. Yesterday Sam took picture of Kim trying to remove a padlock from the front door.
You know what folks? I'm getting depressed with writing this post about Pat's neighbors. What a terrible waste of life. This woman is the mother to four children. I understand she's just trying to live her life the best she can with her addiction. It's just a shame that her life is impacting on so many others. Not just Pat and his neighbor Samantha but the other neighbors on the street.
Now that someone (we think the city) has padlocked the residence, maybe something will finally have to be done. This situation is a complicated because the property did belong to her father (or grandfather). But she hasn't paid taxes for at least three years and she is a disturbance to the neighborhood.
When I see something like this I realize how fortunate I am to live where I live. Back in the eighties, when I had an apartment in center city Philadelphia that I leased for a year while our house out in the country was being completed (believe it or not we sold our house in Philly too fast, before our other house was completed and I needed a place to live and go to work), I tried to help two different drug addicted guys. It just didn't work out. One almost burned down my apartment when he fell asleep with a lit cigarette. When I mentioned this to a friend he told me the reason this guy was homeless was because where he was staying he did catch the place on fire by falling asleep with a lit cigarette and they threw him out. I had to do the same thing. I won't even get into what I had to deal with the other guy I was trying to help. Both of them were gay so that was the link. All I remember it was a nightmare trying to help these guys who had the addiction. I failed.
I'll leave with this image of Kim having an episode out in the street in front of Pat's house. So sad.
I'm going out now to get some fresh air.
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| Bill's 88th birthday picture September 26, 2016 |
Bill died almost three years ago.
There is not one day that goes by that I don't think of him and miss him.
After fifty-nine and a half years together, almost my whole adult life (since I was twenty-two years old), it's not hard to understand.
I thought with time I would get used to not having Bill in my life. How foolish I was to think that.
I now realize that until my dying day, I will have to endure the pain and grief of not having him in my life.
The last three years of Bill's life I was his full-time caregiver. In many way, even though it was very difficult for the both of us, those were our best years together.
The love we had for each other even grew stronger.
When Bill died that early Saturday morning, the first thing I felt was relief.
Relief that his suffering had ended. Little did I realize my suffering was just beginning.
Initially I was in shock even though I had expected that call from Delaware Hospice which Bill had entered the previous Wednesday evening.
Then I had a feeling which I didn't expect at all. I felt like I had lost control over caring for Bill.
Who would care for him now?
The last forty years of our lives together, since he retired early at fifty-five years of age, I had taken care of running our household. I saw that the bills were paid. I was the interface with the outside world that Bill didn't like to deal with. I ran interference for him. Now I could no longer do that.
Bill always depended on me. Now who would take care of him? Of course the answer is God. Or that Supreme Being in the Afterlife that we will all eventually get to meet.
I still had mixed feelings about losing control over caring for Bill. After all I had dealt with the Veterans Administration all these years and if I could get through THAT, I could do just about anything (smile).
So here we go folks. Ron bemoaning the fact that I still miss Bill. I try to tell myself that I'm not the only one in this situation but that doesn't help. The hurt of not having Bill in my life will stay with me for all the rest of my days on this earth. This is a fact that I just have to accept. In the meantime, I count down the days until Bill and I reunite again in Heaven.
And by the way, this doesn't mean I don't love Pat. I do but it is a different kind of love. Not the kind Bill and I had. I will always remember what Bill said to me about a week and a half before he died. He called me aside and said "Something different has happened." I think he meant he knew he was going to die soon. Then he said something that just melted me. He said "When I die, I want you and Pat to be very happy." That was Bill, always thinking of me.
Few people had the kind of love that Bill and I had for almost sixty years. For that I am so grateful.
There, now I feel better that I spilled out my feelings again. Back to normal tomorrow but I will always continue to miss Bill. Until the day I die. Then, if there is a Heaven, our spirits will be reunited forever.
That is the way it is meant to be, will me and Bill.
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| 1962 Chesapeak City, Maryland Pictured from left to right, bottom row Dessie, me and Dave M. Top row Ed C. and George B. All gone now except for me and Dave |
Sixty four years ago I was in the Army stationed at Fort George G. Meade, Maryland. I worked for the National Security Agency.
I was able to go home almost every weekend. I also had leave time. "Leave Time" is Army talk for vacation time.
During my time at Ft. Meade one of my very good friends was a guy from Georgia named Dessie Stroud. Of course he couldn't go home on weekends like I did. Occasionally he would go home with me just to break the routine of hanging around the Army base on the weekends.
One stretch of time I think he took some leave and spent a few days at my friend Bill B's family cottage near Chesapeak City, Maryland. Bill had a boat. A speed boat. It was fun to drive around the Chesapeak Bay in.
One weekend two of our high school friends and one of Bill B's friends took over "The Cottage" for the weekend. Oh we had a grand time. I remember that long weekend well. Dave M. had one of those old VW buses. We drove around town like the carefree twenty year olds we were. Interestingly enough, I haven't been back to that cottage since. Actually my friend Bill B.'s family sold that cottage but he has another one which he has invited me too often. It's now that far from where I live in Delaware. I would like to go on a speed boat ride again before I check out. I think Pat would like that too.
I'll put this one on my Bucket List.
P.S.
One of those guys was my very first crush/boyfriend. I'll never tell.
With all the chaos that is going in the world today I am so thankful for my almost once acre backyard oasis that I built by hand for the last twenty years.
Today, as I listen to the summertime visitors speed down to Rehoboth Beach and further shore destinations, I am so appreciative that I have a place to escape to peace and quiet.
I took this three minute video to share with my faithful blog followers and anyone else who happens to stumble over my blog and wonder "What the hell is this?"
Now I'll post this and go out and feed my pond goldfish. They await me.
Have a great and peaceful day everyone!
This morning I woke up to the usual rain and humidity we've been having here at Casa Tipton-Kelly for the last few months of summer. N...
