Arm Injury Update

Exactly one month ago today, as I was entering the front door of the American Legion Post 28 in Millsboro I did a "Dick Van Dyke" trip and fell and injured my right arm.


The only other time in my life I injured any of my limbs was in 1960 when I dislocated my right knee while playing pool (don't ask how that happen, that's another whole story) in the day room of the Ft. Meade, Maryland barracks where I was stationed while I was in the Army.


That injury resulted in me wearing a cast on my right leg for six weeks, hip to ankle.  While inconvenient, that injury wasn't near as painful (except when the doctor in the emergency room slipped my knee socket back in place - OWWWWW) as this injury.


Thank God I didn't break anything during my fall a month ago.  An X-ray did reveal a small fracture of my upper right arm which the doctor told me "don't do anything."  If I touch that area, it is sensitive but doesn't hurt.  Where I had my big problem was with my wrist.  


After my fall I couldn't even raise my arm let alone turn my wrist.  Little by little over the past four weeks my body is healing. 


Now I can raise my arm to comb my hair and scratch the back of my neck.  


I can brush my teeth with my right hand which I was unable to do before because I couldn't apply any pressure to my right hand.  


I can shampoo my hair.


I can take care of personal hygiene (oh yes, even that was affected, I had to learn to use my left hand). 


This week on the cover of the USA Today newspaper I saw a picture of a soldier who was injured by a land mine explosion in Afghanistan.  He was recuperating at Walter Reed Hospital.  He was a triple amputee, missing both arms and one leg.  I just cannot imagine.  And here I thought I had problems.  


Well, the good news for me is, although my arm and wrist is still sensitive and I have to watch what pressure I apply to it, I am healing.  Each day I get a little better.  


Today I even weed whacked and transplanted several plants.  It was a beautiful day to do these chores.  I love working outside in my yard.  However, I think I did over do it a bit though because I was exhausted by the time I was done.  I was worn out.


I got to thinking of that triple amputee soldier again.  Then I thought of how lucky I was.  

Reading

What to know one of my all time favorite activities?  Reading in bed.  


I've been reading in bed for years...............and years.


My bedroom is my oasis.


I retreat from the messy and untidy world and enter my own safe universe.


Reading is one of my all time favorite activities.


At any given time I'm reading between four and six books.  


I always have a book in the Reading Room (aka bathroom).  


I always have several books going at my bedstand.


I read while I eat in the kitchen.  


I read a lot.


I love reading.  

Who Is This Character?

Can you guess who this character is?  


This picture was taken of me in 1965 at my heaviest weight, 180 pounds.  Quite a different look for me wouldn't you say?  Especially the crew cut.  I don't have enough hair now to make it stand up at attention like that.


When I graduated from high school in 1959 I weighed 160 pounds.  Since I have weighed as much as 202 pounds (thank goodness I don't have any pictures of Fat Ron) to a low of 145 pounds.  I am 6'3" tall and have a thin frame.  Both of my brothers are taller than me and weigh close to 300 pounds.  I can't imagine me weighing that much.  My God.


I was sorting through some old pictures this morning and I came across this one of me taken at a photo booth right before I moved to New Jersey with Bill and started my new job at Girard Bank in Philadlephia.


Definitely a different look wouldn't you say?  Who knows what other "treasures" I will find sorting though old photos.  


Note the scar on by my right eye.  That scar was caused by forceps pulling me out when I was born 69 years ago.  My head was all bloody.  The doctor informed my Mother that I probably lost my right eye.  I was lucky.  I didn't lose my eye but I came darn close.  This was just the first of my many close calls that I avoided disaster.  


I am a lucky guy and I know it.

It's Always Something

As I sit here this morning waiting for my DirecTV service technician to arrive (between 8 am and 12 pm - guess when he's going to show up), I'm thinking that I rarely get a day in which I have absolutely nothing to do.  Somedays I would just like to coast for a few days with NOTHING PLANNED.


A few weeks ago I had to go round and round with Verizon to get a new wireless modem because I kept losing my Internet connection.  I finally got the new wireless modem (after they sent me the wrong one naturally) and my Internet connection works just fine now.


My newest problem is with my DirecTV DVR receiver in my bedroom.  Tuesday night after I returned from work I hear the receiver grinding away.  Last week the receiver self corrected itself by finding 896 hard drive errors after running SEVERAL hours.  Tuesday night I turn on the TV and the "self correction" was only 3% done and had already found 13,987 errors.  Oh fun times.  So I called DirecTV and jumped through their hoops until they finally agreed to send out a service technician today.  That is who I await now.


Doesn't it seem like everyday there is some kind of challenge to complete?  On Monday Bill and I drove to Dover and I had a satellite radio installed in my car.  That little ditty cost me $548 plus cents.  I already had the portable satellite radio but with my new Subaru I could have the satellite radio right in the dashboard.  In addition to the convenience, I thought this would be safer because I frequently had to look at the radio to see what music was playing.  I had to take my eyes off the road to look lower where I had my portable satellite radio sitting near the gear shift.  This wasn't safe and sooner or later I was going to have an accident.  So I talked myself into parting with the big bucks and have the satellite radio installed higher up. 


The installation took about two hours.  On the way home I noticed that there was no scroll on the satellite display.  WTF?  This was the main reason I had the radio installed higher up on my dashboard.  I called Dover Subaru.  They told me that the Forester model I had did not support the music scroll.  Oh wonderful.  I just assumed it did.  Oh well, at least I don't have to reach down to change stations now.  $548, that's more than a few lunches at La Quezalteca.


And yesterday I learned that Obama has signaled that he is going to extend the Bush Tax cuts for the rich.  I can't even begin to tell you how disappointed I am in Mr. Bait and Switch.  Lies, lies, lies.  No leadership on DADT.  A health care bill that is fraud because it doesn't include a public option to control costs.  Prisoners are still in GITMO.  We're still fighting a war in Afghanistan.  Nothing is being done about repealing the DOMA law.  


Obama is in his White House bubble and has no concept that what this country needs now is leadership. Not caving into everything the Republicans demand.  Where is that "change you can believe in?"


Can you say "one term president?"  


I'm beyond disappointed with this president folks.  The Republicans scare the crap out of me.  The teabaggers are beyond belief.  I am still stunned that a babooned faced asswipe like Rand Paul was elected Senator.  Lester Maddox must be smiling down from Heaven (or looking up from Hell.)


Today the sun is out. The weather, while a bit chilly, will warm up later.  My arm and wrist is healing, albeit slowly.  I have a follow-up doctor's appointment on Monday.  Next Tuesday I have a trip planned to visit the Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC.  Next Wednesday and Thursday I work at the hotel again.  Uh, Friday looks clear. How much do you want to bet something will turn up to take up that day too?  


It's always something.

Born Gay

Me (to the far right) with my brothers John and Isaac - 1947 (when I was four years old - I knew then)


This morning while I was watching "The Joy Behar Show", she was interviewing Bishop James Swilley.  Bishop Swilley is a pastor of a mega church in Georgia who recently came out as a gay man.  He said he was inspired to come out and be honest with himself, is family and his congregation in response to the recent suicides of young gay men.  Joy asked the Swilley when he knew he was gay.  Swilley said he knew when he was four years old.  Joy gave the automatic response of most straight people, "How would you know at that young age?  You wouldn't of even had a sexual awareness?"  The Reverend Swilley gave the answer I have always given when confronted with same question.  Swilley said he didn't know what gay was but he did know he was different.  He knew he had an attraction to men even though it wasn't a sexual attraction at that age.


This is the same answer I have always given.  At four years old I didn't have a sexual awareness.  But I knew I was different.  I knew I had a "special feeling" towards men.  I began going to school at five years old and I knew I had this feeling before I began going to school.  


My attraction was towards adult men. I felt good being around them. I remember how special I felt when my Uncle John would give greet me with a wink.  By the way, does anybody anymore wink besides Sarah Palin?  Just asking.


Whenever an adult man, usually a friend of the family or relative, was kind to me I would get a special thrill.  Of course I had aunts and other women who were also friendly to me but I didn't have that special feeling when they were kind to me.  Whenever one of my uncles would say "Ronnie" and wink at me, I would just melt.  I didn't feel the same way when one of my aunts would greet me the same way.  I felt a special tingle in my bones.  Oh boy.


Now I know what some of you may be thinking now.  That I was sexually abused by an adult male and that led me down this path.  That did not happen.  No one ever sexually abused me.  Not even close.  I hear all these stories of sexual abuse of children by adult members of the family but that never happen to me.   I've often wondered how I would have turned out if did have a sexual experience at that young age.  But to repeat myself, that never happened.  All I know is that I always felt special when an adult male was nice to me.


I guess the closest I came to a sexual feeling was when my Uncle Bruce's friend Earl would play "horsey" with us kids.  Earl was about ten years older than we kids.  He was probably about sixteen years old.  The kids in our group ranged in age from five to eight years old.  There was me, my brothers John and Isaac, Pee Wee, Chubby and Patty.  When Earl would visit us on Washington Avenue with my uncle Bruce, he would get on all fours and we would "ride" him.  All very innocent, except perhaps for me.  That was the first time I got a faint feeling of a sexual experience.  I knew I was enjoying those horsey rides perhaps a little bit too much.  I knew I was different.


Many years later at my uncle Bruce's funeral, I saw his friend Earl again.  The year was 1998.   I had not seen him since the early Fifties.  I remember looking at him as her gave a eulogy for his friend, my Uncle Bruce.  I kept looking at him trying to place his face.  He looked back at me then averted his glance.  I wasn't quite sure, but I think I detected a bit of embarrassment in his response.  Then I remembered, this was the man who we kids used to play horsey with.  


I wanted to talk to him and tried to catch up with him after the service but he avoided me.  I was curious about him and my uncle Bruce.  Uncle Bruce was the only one of my father's ten brothers who never had children.  He was married for a short time and spent the rest of his life single.  I was also curious if Earl had ever married.  But that's a subject for another blog posting.


The point I wanted to make in this blog posting that I was born gay.  I didn't choose to be gay somewhere along the path.  From a very young age I knew I was "different."  I just didn't know what I was at that time.  


It is so heartening these days to hear people like Bishop Swilley come out and tell the same story as I have often told.  It is interesting to hear straight people's reaction "But how did you know at such a young age?"  My answer is always "How did you know you were straight at such a young age?"  


The answer is always the same, "I didn't chose, that is the way I was born." 

Happy Birthday

Ron and Mom 1941

Sixty-nine years ago today, at 9:30 a.m. Sunday morning, I entered this world.


Quite frankly, I'm surprised I'm still here this planet.


I've been in three serious auto accidents (1950, 1960 and 1963).  I escaped serious injury each time.


In 1959, I almost died from the negligence of my family doctor after I contacted a staph infection from a hernia operation.


In 1960, during Army basic training I accidentally set off a hand grenade.  I only suffered minor injuries.


From 1963 to 1980 I was assaulted several times because I was identified as a gay man.  At least five times in center city Philadelphia, once in Provincetown, Massachusetts and once in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware.


I almost committed suicide in 1979.  I was in my car with the garage door closed and motor running.  I stopped when I realized how much my death would hurt my Mother.  As much pain as I was in at that time I could not put my Mother through the pain of a suicide of her first born.  I turned off the engine.


In 1980 I was almost choked to death by a homeless man.


All near brushes with death.


I survived.


I will be here for a little longer.


I'm happy that I am still here.


This is the best time of my life.


I'm older.  I'm not as pretty as I used to be.


I have more aches and pains.


I've lost many of my friends and family.


But I am still here.


I am very fortunate to have had the life I have lived.


The only sad thing about today is that this is the first time in my life my Mother will not wish me a happy birthday.


Earlier this week my brother John and his wife sent me a birthday card.


The card said:

"There's a corner of your heart reserved for someone special - the person you're so proud to call your brother."

There's a closeness that we share.

We don't discuss it,

 but it's there.

On your birthday,

hope you know

how much you mean,

how much I care.

Happy Birthday

"I know how much you miss Mom so I wanted to send you a card for her and us

John and Barb"

Letter From Basic Training

Pvt. Ronald W. Tipton, 1960 

Picture taken in living room of my best friend Larry's parents after I completed basic training

A few months ago when I was cleaning out my Mom's back room, I came across this letter I had written to her when I was taking Army basic training at Ft. Dix, New Jersey.  The letter is dated March 4, 1960.


I wrote many letters when I was in the Army but this is the only one that I have in my possession.  It is interesting to read it and see my thinking fifty years ago.  


Two areas in which I haven't changed much, determination and immaturity.


The area of determination is where I note that I had a cold but I decided not to go on sick call because that would almost insure that I would be recycled which was a term used for starting basic training all over again.  I knew I didn't want to do that.  I remember that cold I had.  It was awful.  The worst was when I was crawling with my elbows through the infiltration course on a cold, wet day with tracer bullets whizzing inches above my head and my nose running like a spigot.  But the worst thing I remember about the infiltration course was that I got my brand new fatigue jacket caught on the barbed wire and tore a big strip of cloth out of the back.  My gay gene was horrified that I damaged my new duds.


The area of immaturity was the joke I repeated to my parents.  Reading it now it I can see where it isn't even funny.  It's actually childish and immature (am I being redundant here)?  But I thought at the time it was really funny.  But then remember I was a 18 year old small town boy being exposed to the vulgarities of the world outside for the first time in my life.  


Boy was I innocent in those days.  Boy did I have a lot to learn.  


Here is the letter.  WARNING!  This letter contains sexual references and cursing.  If you're offended by such language and references please do not read the letter.

If I only knew what an adventure lay ahead for me, this small town, determined, immature kid from Downingtown, PA.  But you know what?  I wouldn't change a thing.  


As I wind down this life, I'm looking back on my past years with the goal to accumulate and write my personal history in a book.  This is my last goal in life.  


My story may not be of interest to most other people but I do feel a need to put in writing my life experience.  Maybe there is that one person like me way off in the future who will pick up this book and appreciate my retelling of my journey in life.  


If for nothing else, when I leave I want to leave my version of events.  And to leave a small footprint.  


I am still determined and immature for which I make no excuses or apologies.  


That is me.