Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Days of Innocence



Ah, those days of innocence as the picture above reflects. The photo is of this blogger, circa 1952. It was a fifth grade elementary school photo. Note that even in the Boring Fifties, spiky hair was in style (actually, I couldn't control my hair). Look at the pure innocence on that face. Perhaps if I get enough courage I'll show you that same face 54 years hence (now). That comparison would be a brutally graphic display of the trials and tribulations of the past 54 years. Days of joy, days of anguish. Presently, I am undergoing the worst time of my life. Trying to sell my home. I have a new beautiful home and I would to move there permanently and enjoy a downsized lifestyle that a 64 year old body requires. This keeping two homes is not fun. Back and forth. The homes are 2 1/2 hours apart. Double bills. Keeping track of everything. Is the milk in the refrigerator in my home in Delaware or the home in Pennsylvania? How about my goldfish (three ponds in the Pennsylvania home)? Who is feeding them? If this is Sunday do I mow the Delaware lawn or the Pennsylvania lawn? Hopefully, this nightmare will soon come to an end and I will again be the same carefree 10 year old boy pictured above. Perhaps the body is different, after the ravages of stress and gravity. However, the mind will again be carefree and happy.

Curley


Who is this blue eyed picture of innocence? He was born in November 1941 in southeastern Pennsylvania. The first born of his father was a 21 year old hillbilly truckdriver from the hills of North Carolina. His 17 year old mother was one of five orphaned children from a distinguished but cash poor Pennsylvania Quaker family. Look at the happiness in those eyes. Did he know what the future held for him? Did he know of the heartbreak, skullduggery, and treachery that awaited him as he grew up? Oh, along the way there were times of pure happiness but mostly it was a life of struggle and fear. Much like many other children born during World War II. After the war he lived under the threat of an A-Bomb going off at any time. He knew that hiding under his desk wasn't going to protect him. Early on he realized he was "different". He didn't know exactly what it was but he knew he should keep it secret because it was "bad". It wasn't until he was 21 years old that he "came out" and revealed himself to the world as a gay man. The year 1963 wasn't a good year to reveal oneself as a homosexual. But he did and there it was. During the ensuing years he broke a few hearts and had his heart trampled on one or twice. However, he was one of the lucky ones and met a man who became his life partner (in today's parlance - previously the person was called a "lover"). Now, 42 years later he and his partner are approaching the last act of their lives. He will be 65 this year, his partner 78. Just about now he thinks he has this life thing figured out. If you have one good friend, or partner that you can depend on, that's about all you need. Most friends will let you down when the going gets rough. Some hang in there with you during those horrendous time (usually the friends who you least expect to stick with you). This boy is moving on now, soon to move into a new house which will probably be his last place of residence on this earth. As they say, the next time I move it will be feet first. My nightmare ordeal of selling my old house is almost over. I am ready to move on, to the last act of my life. I am indeed fortunate that I have my "partner" to share those final days and a few good friends. Very fortunate.