Exciting and Informative Q & A's

Time for a fun list! This one I stole from one of my favorite bloggers, Jon of Lone Wolf Concerto

1. Five fears.

Very easy, not necessarily in order:

Homelessness

Coma

Blindness

Incarceration

Violent Death/Slow Death -I prefer to slip away like I do when I'm put under anesthesia for an operation. Now that's the way to go.

2. Three things I love.

Books

Music 

Solitude

(Yes, same as my friend Jon)

3. Four Turns On

Sexy, in shape, older man no taller than 5'8" or weight of 150 lbs who dances with abandon and style
The sexy guy letting me have my way
Old time movie star biographies
Kindness of strangers

4. Four Turns off.

Screaming children

Incessantly barking dogs

Arrogant, condescending people

Sea food (any kind)

5. My best friend.

Pat, my Canadian travel buddy. Best friend I've ever had. I've had several BFF;s in my life but Pat is the total package. Arrived late in my life but proves the adage "Save the best for last." 

6. My favorite book.

As a voracious reader, I have far too many favorite books to mention. It's an impossibility.  (Yes, same as my friend Jon)

7. My best first date.

Pat, a perfect match. Clicked immediately. 

8. How tall am I ?

6'3" (used to be 6'4", I'm shrinking)  

9. What do I miss?

My dogs (Pomeranians) Horace, T and Babydoll

10. What time were I born?

9:30 am on a Sunday morning in November, one month before Pearl Harbor

11. Favorite color.

Blue is first. Yellow is second. Orange third. Red fourth.

12. Do I have a crush?

Pat

13. Favorite Quote.

"Getting old is not for sissies" - Bette Davis

14. Favorite place.

I love my home.

15. Favorite food.

Hummus and corn chips

16. Do I use sarcasm?

When don't I use sarcasm? I live, breath and eat sarcasm. Probably shouldn't but that's me. No denying it.

17. What am I listening to right now?

"The Last Word" with Lawrence O'Donnell (MSNBC) - I listen to the whole MSNBC lineup every weekday - yes I am a liberal/Democrat/progressive (used to be a Republican)

18. First thing I notice in new person?

Facial expression - I can tell immediately if a person is kind by their facial expression - their eyes (windows to their soul) - Look at Trump's lizard eyes, you see nothing there but evil and cunning - proves my point

19. Eye color.

Blue

20. Hair color.

Dark brown, with gray on the sides now. Luckily, my family doesn't get the snow white hair - thank goodness!

  

More Dancing Man of Hamilton, Ontario, Canada

Pat sent me a couple more videos he took of the dancing in Gore Park, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada.

Gore Park is located directly outside the renovated Royal Connaught Hotel, where Pat has his luxurious condo on the fourteenth floor.  

Several days each week a band and/or singer performs for free at Gore Park for the entertainment of the locals and visitors, like I will be in two weeks.  

Pat was so impressed with one gentleman dancer that he sent me a couple of short videos last week.  I too was impressed and made a short movie of this gentleman dancer, who I think dances like Fred Astaire.  I posted that video to You Tube and also on my blog. If you saw it, you'll notice that I had an intro to that video.  Looking at that video now, I realize my intro was too long and actually unnecessary.  Thus I have made another movie without the intro.  When you look at the video you'll see that no intro is necessary.  I love this guy free spirit!

I will be in Hamilton visiting Pat from September 16th through September 23rd.  I hope to meet this gentleman dancer.  I am curious if he was a professional dancer sometime in his life.  I find him vastly more entertaining that any of those showboats on Dancing With The Stars. 

I hope you enjoy this movie as much as I did making it.

Have a great day!

Canada - Here I Come!

Pat and I having breakfast at John's restaurant in downtown Hamilton, Ontario Canada

Two weeks from this Sunday I will be making my annual trip to my northern neighbor Canada.  

I am taking a flight from Philadelphia International Airport to Buffalo, New York.  Pat, my Canadian Travel Buddy, will take the forty-mile trip from his home in Hamilton and cross the border to Buffalo to pick me up.  I fly to Buffalo because it is cheaper and a LOT LESS stressful than flying into Toronto’s Pierson airport. And now that Pat lives in Hamilton, the mileage to Buffalo to pick me up is less than if he had to drive to Toronto to pick me up.

Pat and I waiting for the bus to the Toronto airport last year

This is my fourth trip to Canada to visit Pat. The first two years I visited Pat at his home in Toronto. Last year I visited Pat at his new home in downtown Hamilton.  Pat sold his home in Toronto and bought a fantastic condo, with spectacular views of downtown Hamilton, at the historical Royal Connaught hotel, which is in the process of converting to luxury condos. 

Pat and I get together four times a year.  Every quarter. 

At the end of December Pat and I meet in Philadelphia.  I rent a suite at the co-op of my longtime friend and former co-worker Don McKenzie.  I used to live and work in Philly and love visiting and reliving old memories. Pat loves Philly. And we both like Don very much. 

Don, Pat and me at Marathon restaurant on Spruce Street in Philadelphia, PA

In February Pat and I take a two-week trip to California. One week in West Hollywood where we make another try to get on “The Price is Right”.  We spend a second week in Palm Springs. I’ve always wanted to punch a hole in the winter cold by spending a few weeks in warmer climes. Now that Pat and I together, I can realize this long-held dream of mine. Pat brought a condo in Palm Springs last year. He has it rented out for two years but after that rental obligation is up we may stay there in the future. I would love to spend a winter month in Palm Springs. Another dream of mine I hope to realize some day.

In the spring Pat takes a bus from Toronto to Philly.  He rents a car in Philly and drives down here where I live in lower slower Delaware.  We spend a couple days here, visiting Bill and our favorite restaurants in Lewes and Rehoboth Beach and Lewes, then we both make the trip back to Philly and that rental suite of our friend Don.

I am so happy that I can make these trips with Pat.  Many years ago, when I was young and full of energy I used to make trips to Provincetown, Massachusetts. I started out one week in the summer, but when I ended going up four times during the summer. The last time I visited Provincetown for a three week stay (1986), I returned to my job to find out I was job eliminated. I haven’t been back since.  I hope to return at least one time before I check out, with Pat. There are no furniture stores in Provincetown, but they have a great Tea Dance and fabulous restaurants. Now to figure out how to convince Pat to add a fifth trip to our annual adventures.

Family Skeletons

Alfred Hickman with his mother Ethel Hickman Hadfield and her sister Grace Hickman Weaver; behind Ethel is her husband (and my grandfather) George Hadfield and Grace's husband H. Ralph Weaver. The child is my aunt Grace Hadfield Tinder Wagner.  Photo taken 1916 in Downingtown, Pennsylvania

Yesterday I received a letter from my cousin.  I know what is in the letter. I choose not to read it.  

Two weeks ago I received a letter from her in which she requested that I remove the information about our maternal grandmother that I had posted on Ancestry.com.  I wrote her back telling her the reason I had to turn down her request. I'm pretty sure the letter she wrote back to me is either chastising me for refusing her request or disowning me. Either scenario is not one I wish to engage in at this time.  Thus, that letter from my cousin will remain unopened indefinitely.

Now that I have you intrigued as to what is the subject of my cousin's consternation, I will now divulge the family skeleton I discovered whilst doing my family research.

After I left my job at First Fidelity Bank in Philadelphia, and had a period of unemployment, I began a log postponed project of researching my family tree.  I began with my paternal Tipton relatives. I got very involved and unearthed a lot of family history and a few skeletons.  

My Mother observed with interest my total involvement with my paternal family history and wistfully said "I guess you're not interested in my family history." She had a point, I had done very little research on my maternal family tree.  I told her "I will research the Hadfield's too."   She said "While you're at it, could you find out who Uncle Afred was?  Every time his name came up every one would clam up. There was something strange about him that no one wanted me to know."  

My Mother told me that Alfred Hickman was raised at her mother's (my grandmother) brother. But she doubted that he was her brother. 

My grandmother, Ethel Hickman Hadfield

Alfred Hickman was born in 1911, when my grandmother was fifteen years old.  Alfred died in 1922, at eleven years of age of diphtheria. My Mother was born in 1923.  She said Alfred was always a "mystery."  

I started my research on uncle Alfred by asking my Mother's older sister "who was Alfred Hickman?"  My Aunt Grace, who was slipping into dementia at that time and would die a few months later said "Oh!! Uncle Alfred!  We DON'T talk about him!"  Upon further questioning, she told me that Alfred was indeed my grandmother's son born out of wedlock and raised as her brother.

Now to prove this fact.  I got Alfred's death certificate from Ancestry.com.  His death certificate listed my great grandparents as his parents. 

Alfred Hickman 1911-1922 photo taken 1916

I decided to get Alfred's birth certificate. That was no easy task that I was to discover. I wrote to the Pennsylvania Department of records. They responded back to me that only direct descendants (children) could obtain his death certificate. Since Alfred died at eleven years old he had no children. I wrote back to the Pennsylvania Department of records and explained that Alfred didn't have any children because he died at eleven years old and that I was his great nephew. They sent me his birth certificate. When I read his birth certificate I discovered a different name listed as Alfred's father. The name listed was Harold Griffith Sutton.  Ah ha, the family skeleton was exposed.

Harold Sutton was eighteen years old at the time of Alfred's birth. My grandmother was fifteen years old. Both worked at the Lloyd estate in Downingtown, Pennsylvania. My grandmother was listed as a "governess" which is the same as a baby sitter. Harold was a gardener at the Lloyd estate. I think you can figure out what happened here. In 1911 a birth out of wedlock was a scandal. In fact when I graduated from high school in 1959 such a birth was also a scandal, that's why one of my classmates didn't graduate with us, she was pregnant. 

I posted this correct information to my family tree which I maintain on Ancestry.com. I told my cousin that I had discovered this information about  our grandmother. She advised me not to post the information to our family tree.  She said "grandmother would have wanted it that way."  Uh, really?  All the parties involved are long dead. My grandmother died in 1923 at the age of 29 years old from complications from an incomplete abortion. Yes, another "skeleton" I discovered about my grandmother which will be the subject of a future blog post.  Harold Sutton lived a long life and died in 1983 at age of eighty-nine years of age. He married in 1919 to a woman named Sarah and they produced six children. Harold was a college professor who lived his life in Connecticut. I don't know if he family knew about his love child, Alfred Hickman. But they probably will now since I have posted the Truth to the Internet.  My grandmother married my grandfather in 1915. They had five children (my Mother being the youngest) before my grandmother died in 1923 from her incomplete abortion. My Mother was a motherless before she was two years old because of a decision my grandmother made.

Now, some may agree with my cousin that I keep this information about my grandmother a secret forever.  I cannot do that.  I will not lie about my grandmother.  I will not lie about my uncle Alfred. His memory deserves the truth of who his real father was. I will not participate in perpetuating a lie. 

We all make decisions in life. My cousin suggested that perhaps our grandmother was raped. How does she know that?  Still, history deserves to know the truth. 

My maternal grandparents 1921 - my grandmother was pregnant with my mother,  she is hiding her pregnancy behind her oldest child Grace

My Mother at the Birmingham-Lafayette Quaker cemetery in West Chester PA at the grave of her grandparents William and Esther Hickman - the small headstone flush with the ground at her bottom left is of Alfred Hickman, her uncle who was raised as her mother's brother by William and Esther Hickman.  Bill is in the background in the two tone brown jacket.  This photo was taken by me April 7, 2002 when I used to take photos of headstones in cemeteries for my Find a Grave account. At the time I did not know who Alfred Hickman was, he was always a mystery to the family and his secret would not have been known forever until I discovered the Truth.  Alfred will no longer be forgotten.

Turning Points In My Life - Choices After Graduation

U. S. Post Office Coatesville, PA

After I graduated from high school in June of 1959 I had a major life choice to make. Do I get a job or do I get my service obligation out of the way?  

When I graduated from high school in 1959, all young men had to register for the draft after they turned eighteen years of age.  I was seventeen years old when I graduated.  I wouldn't turn eighteen until the following November.  

I had some time to make a decision. Initially I tried to get a clerical job. This was no easy task. 

Back in the Fifties, the help wanted column listed "Male" and "Female" jobs. The clerical job I wanted was listed under the Female column. Gay boy that I was (and am), I was doomed from the start (apparently). One job I briefly considered was airline attendant but that job choice was also out of consideration for me being a male. Back then there were airlines only hired women as stewardesses.  Remember that quaint term?  

I applied for jobs at a several offices that listed Help Wanted in Downingtown. I was turned down at every one, including the company where my father work, Gindy Trailers.  I thought maybe I had an "in" there since I cleaned their offices part-time but no, I was dead meat to every business in Downingtown. Apparently Mr. King and my high school had blackballed me from getting any clerical job in my hometown. 

My only option left was to join the service and get that obligation out of the way.  I feared getting drafted and being sent overseas to shoot at somebody and be shot at.  I did not want that. However, I did want to get my service obligation out of the way and since I had no job prospects, I decided to join . . . . the Navy.  Yes, I wanted to "see the world" so I decided to join the Navy. 

The four branches of service recruiters were located in the basement of the U.S. Post Office in Coatesville, Pennsylvania, a town six miles west of Downingtown, where I lived. My Mother drove me to the post office.  I entered the building and walked down the stairs to the basement. Four desks were located in the basement in a quadrangle. The first desk was the Marine recruiter. Are you kidding? Never in a million years would I join the Marines. Not that there is anything wrong with that but me in the Marines?  Picture that and try not to laugh.

The next desk I saw was the Air Force recruiter's desk.  No, the Air Force held no interest for me either. Too bland, although Bill (Kelly my now husband) would vehemently disagree with me since he was in the Air Force for eight years). 

The third desk was the Navy recruiter's desk. He was in and that's who I wanted to see. The desk directly next to the Navy recruiter's desk was the Army recruiter's desk. The Army was out for me too. Too much like the Marines.  Way too butch for my sensitive young self at that time of my life, all that shooting and being shot at. 

I sat myself at the side chair of the Naval recruiter's desk. I told him I wanted to join the Navy. I wanted to see the world and I figured the Navy was how I was going to see it.  I wasn't too thrilled about the Naval uniforms but I considered that a small price to pay for traveling the world.

The Navy recruiter filled out my paperwork. Since I wasn't yet the age of consent (18 years of age) I had to take the papers home to have my parents' sign them.

The next day I returned to the Post Office and the Navy recruiter's desk with my signed papers. He was out to lunch. While I sat at the side chair of his desk waiting for him to return from lunch, the Army recruiter asked me why I was joining the Navy. I told him "Because I want to see the world."  He told me "You know you can see the world also if you join the Army but you would only have to serve three years."

I was intrigued.  I got up from my chair at the Navy recruiter's desk and sat myself down at the side chair at the Army recruiter's desk.  The Army recruiter was Master Sergeant Theodore Syphard. 

He explained to me that the Army had a department called the Army Security Agency in which 98% of the graduates from the Army Security Agency school went overseas.  And I would only have to serve three years and not four years like the Navy enlistment.  I was sold.

Me, leaving for Army Security Agency training school April 1960

By the time the Navy recruiter returned from lunch I had signed up to join the Army.  I didn't realize it at that time, but I had just chose a totally different direction which would affect the rest of my life, including where I live now in Delaware.

Now here is the irony of my choice. I went to the Army Security Agency school at Ft. Devens, Massachusetts for six months. I graduated sixth in my class of twenty-seven student/soldiers.  We could choose where we were assigned based on our standing in class.  The class before us had almost all foreign allocations.  Our class had an unusual number of stateside allocations.  There were only five foreign allocations. Two were in England, which I would have loved.  Of course they were both immediately chosen.  The other three were in Turkey.  I didn't want to choose that allocation because I had heard it was at a very isolated location in the mountains and they didn't have fresh milk.  Yes, that's what I said fresh milk.

Me (kneeling lower left) with my buddies Bill Allen, Dick Egan, Bob McCamley, Duane Often and Roland Hagerstrom at Army Security Agency school at Ft. Devens, Mass June 1960

Back then milk was my beverage of choice and I just couldn't imagine drinking powdered milk for the remaining two and a half years of my enlistment at a remote location in the mountains of Turkey.  

The remaining allocations were Ft. Meade, Maryland; Ft. Bragg, North Carolina; and Two Rock Ranch Arizona.  My best friend was Bob McCamley. I wanted to stay with him for my remaining two and a half years.  I told him I would choose Ft. Bragg so I could be with him.  He told me that he was going to choose the Ft. Meade, Maryland allocation (of which there was only one left) if I didn't choose it.  He wanted to choose Ft. Meade because it was close to his home in Norwood, Pennsylvania and he could go home every weekend.  Only later did I find out he wanted to go to his home because he was having an affair with a guy name "Phil", but that's another story for a future blog post.  I didn't even know my best friend was gay at that time, nor did he know I was gay.  

I didn't want to go to Ft. Bragg by myself (all that paratroop jumping, more "butch" stuff I wasn't prepared for) so I choose Ft. Meade, Maryland.  I went home almost every weekend (a two hour drive) instead of my best friend Bob.

  

He went to Ft. Bragg and yes, had to qualify by jumping out of a plane.  God, can you imagine me doing that?

Thus, by choosing to join the Army, the direction of my life took a whole new course.  I made all new friends, including a new best friend, Ron Hampton. Seems, I was always able to make a best friend wherever I was at in life.  I've been lucky that way.  

For the next two and a half years I worked at the National Security Agency at Ft. Meade, Maryland.  I worked with all members of the armed forces and civilians.  I had a great job.  And I didn't have to jump out of a plane.

Turning Points In My Life - Rebellion

Me as a senior in high school 1959 - rebel (no smile)

My class schedule card 12th grade

Like most teenagers I made my period of rebellion. 

Up until my senior year, I was a quiet, go along student. I was a "good boy" and did as I was told. I wanted every one to like me and the best way I could do that was obey my superiors, even when I sometimes had questions about their judgement. 

Me as a junior in high school 1958 - my "good boy" phase, before I rebelled for being wrongly accused of cheating

I almost got through high school with my "get along, go along" attitude until an incident in my second year bookkeeping class.

Bookkeeping was a requirement of the commercial course I chose. I wasn't a big fan of bookkeeping, this wasn't the sexy and interesting job choice I had hoped for my life. But even at that time I knew I had limited talents and realized that I had to acquire certain skills to get a job after graduation since I wasn't going to college.  

Our school had a program in the senior year in which we could work outside school during part of the school year.  Sort of an apprentice type job. Thus when I graduated from high school I could transition right into my office clerk job, probably a bookkeeping job.

I was on that course until this "incident" happened in my second year bookkeeping class one morning.

Mr. Vincent King was my bookkeeping teacher. He was a World War II veteran who walked like a penguin. This was the result of his toes being frozen off.  Mr. King was a very serious teacher. I don't ever recall him smiling or joking with the class. No one ever questioned Mr. King. 

I was a fair bookkeeping student. Mostly B's and a few C's. I don't think I ever got an A.  I found bookkeeping boring but as I said before, I knew it was course I had to take to survive and get a job after I graduated from high school.  If I didn't take an office job I would have to get a job at Lukens Steel Mill.  That's where most of my fellow male students, who didn't go to college, would get a job. Lukens Steel, the only game in town for well paying jobs in my little town of Downingtown, Pennsylvania (population 5,000).

Now for the incident that changed the course my life was about to take:

That spring morning in 1959, I arrived at my second period bookkeeping class. As I was sitting down at my desk and taking out my bookkeeping book, I realized I had forgotten and left my homework at home. This was the first time I did this. I don't think I ever forgot my homework before.  

As I and my fellow students settled ourselves at our desks, Mr. King walked into the classroom.  He told us to pass up our homework.  I raised my hand and told him that I had forgotten my homework. He immediately verbally attacked me and accused me of loaning my homework to fellow students.  I was shocked. I had always gotten along with Mr. King. Sure, he was distant and not particularly friendly with students but I put that to his injuring he suffered during World War II, his missing toes that affected the way he walked. No students ever made fun of him like they did other teachers who had unusual characteristics. No one dared.

I was shocked that he would accuse me of cheating.  I never cheated in high school.  Never.  I know that's hard for many to believe (which I have since found out since I've told this story to others).  No, I have NEVER cheated.  Even back then in my ignorant teenage days, I didn't see the value in cheating. You either learned the subject or didn't, what was the value in cheating?  

Mr. King knew others were cheating in his class. Looking back on it now I think he was disappointed in me that he thought I was part of that cheating ring. I knew other students in my class who copied other's homework but that wasn't me. I never loaned out my homework. I have a lot of flaws and I am far from perfect but one thing I don't do and never have cheated or help others to cheat, which sometimes caused me to lose friends. 

When Mr. King yelled at me in front of the class I yelled right back at him that I didn't loan my homework out to others. He continued to berate me in front of my fellow students.  I couldn't believe that he didn't believe me. I got up and walked out of the class.  I was mad. 

I don't remember exactly where I went next but I do remember that I was going to quit his class. I had enough credits to graduate so I didn't need his class.  

My high school report card

I told my Mother what happened. I told her I was going to quit Mr. King's class.  She advised me not to.  I disagreed with her.  She advised me to see the guidance counselor, Mr. Kline.  I didn't like Mr. Kline.  I considered him weak and a loser and   ineffectual. When I saw him I told him I was quitting Bookkeeping because I couldn't be in a class where the teacher falsely accused me of cheating without any proof.  Of course Mr. Kline sided with Mr. King.  This was the first time in my life I realized that right doesn't win, power does. 

Mr. Kline with my classmate Marlene Alwood. Ironically I was there when this picture was taken for our yearbook.  Marlene and I were on the yearbook staff to take pictures of different scenes.  Of course I refused to be in this picture with Mr. Kline because I didn't like or respect him. I stood off to the side while the photographer took this picture for our yearbook.

There was no way I was going back to Mr. King's class under those circumstances which in effect would acknowledge that I did cheat by loaning out my homework papers. I refused to go back.  An Army couldn't get me to go back.  Of course my father didn't care. He quit school in 8th grade.  My Mother quite school in her senior year after she eloped to get married to my father.  At least I wasn't going to quit school. As I said before I had enough credits to graduate.

Mr. Kline and the school administration took me out of the bookkeeping class and put me in place put me in study hall.  When my Mother found that out she said "You're not wasting your time in study hall, you're going to take a course that will help you to get a job."  The course she wanted me to take?  TYPING! I told her I was already taking Typing. She made me double up on my Typing course, in place of the bookkeeping periods that I would no long being taken. She did not want me wasting my time sitting in Study Hall.  She was adamant. I doubled up on Typing.  Best decision she/I ever made. I always struggled with Typing.  That's just what I needed, a double dose of Typing. 

Now, the result of me quitting bookkeeping that changed the course of my life.  Since I quite bookkeeping I wasn't eligible for the work/student program that our school had for commercial students.  That meant when I graduated from high school I didn't have a job.  

After I graduated from high school I tried to get a job.  I was blackballed from all office jobs in Downingtown, Mr. King had his revenge.  Downingtown was a small town then and word got around that I was a rebellious student and not for hiring.  Lukens Steel was my only choice.

Lukens Steel Co., Coatesville, PA - where I didn't want to work after graduating from high school

And being the sensitive young gay boy I was at that time, that kind of butch job wasn't a realistic option for me.  That was when I decided to join the Navy.  And that folks was when I encountered another major turning point in my life. I will tell that story in my next "Turning Points In My Life" installment.  

Medical Update

This morning I had my first visit with my ENT (ear, nose and throat) doctor. This is address my phlegm problem that I've had over a year.

The good news is that I don't have some fatal or chronic disease. Phew, that IS a relief! 

She (yes, I have my first female doctor and thank goodness for the upper part of my body) said my I have gastroesophageal reflex (GERD) condition.   At least that's what I think she said, she was pretty fast. She prescribed Zantax (ranitidine) pills.  She found this condition in me after inserting a camera through my right nostril (nose) down to my throat. Yes, that's what I said . . . . a camera through my nose.  It was on the end of a long, flexible tube.  It didn't hurt but was uncomfortable.  Sort of.  

Inserting cameras into bodies seems to be the latest thing doctors do.  I've turned down two offers in the past ten years to have a camera inserted up through my penis into my bladder to check for bladder cancer.  No thank you, I don't need any unnecessary medical procedures like that, especially THERE.

Well, she inserted that camera before I had a chance to really discuss it. But it was worth it because she quickly identified my problem. I was surprised that she prescribed Zantax, which I already have a prescription for though my VA facility.  Occasionally I get acid reflux if I eat greasy food (which I try to avoid) or extra spicy food. She also prescribed a nasal spray.  I've never used a nasal spray before in my life, probably because Bill in the past used nasal spray, a lot, and now has lost his sense of smell. 

I filled that $41 prescription at Walgreen's.  I'm to take that twice a day. I already took it once and it has already had an effect.  It loosened my mucus so I'm not feeling like I'm suffocating.  It also has a side effect of making me slightly light-headed.  Seems like I'm getting light-headed a lot lately.  


I'm feeling fragile these days folks.  I feel like I'm playing Whack-a-Mole with my health issues. But I always consider that things could be a lot worse. And thank goodness it is not.  For a seventy-six year old man, I'm in basically pretty good health. But I realize sooner or later something will eventually catch up with me. As my brother John told me a few weeks ago when I called him to inquire about his health, he said "Ronnie, we all get our turn."  My  turn isn't yet. 

Have a great day every one!