This is me, a 76 year old gay man retired to Delaware from our home in Pennsylvania with my longtime partner now husband of 54 years. I write about anything and everything that enters my mind on any given day. I am having the best time of my life now which I share in this blog.
Sunday, November 09, 2014
Happy Birthday Ron!
This morning I woke up a year older. Today folks I am 73 years old. How did THAT happen? I was supposed to check out at 60. Talk about someone past their expiration date. But here I am folks, sound of mind (sort of) and body (more "sort of"). Still making waves, ruffling feathers, causing people to scratch their heads with "Is HE still here?"
Yes folks, when many of my contemporaries and quite a few of them younger than me, are GONE, GONE, GONE; I'm still here.
First thing I do when I get up in the morning is to check my iPhone on my bed stand to see if I received any mail during the night. Usually there are one or two messages. This morning where were TWENTY-NINE! My first thought was "What's gong on?" Then when I checked I found out what was going on, there were notifications from Facebook of some of my Facebook friends wishing me a happy birthday. "Now wasn't that nice?" I thought.
I have to tell you folks, that made me feel good. By the way, the latest count is seventy Facebook "Happy Birthday" messages. Thanks folks. Funny thing though, no messages from my family but it's always been that way. I'm the black sheep of my family, preferring not to live a "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" life and to spare them the embarrassment of having a gay brother/uncle/cousin. But I'm to going to go down that negative lane today. But it would be nice if I received at least one "Happy Birthday" message from a close relative. But my dear cousin Elaine (whose husband and son are also named "Ron") sent me a beautiful birthday card. Also, my longtime friend Don McK. of Philadelphia didn't forget my birthday either. Thanks Don!
So do I have anything special planned for my special day? Not really. Just another quiet day here at Casa Tipton-Kelly. My good neighbor Barb called and offered to take me out to dinner for my birthday. We do this every year. She takes me out, I take her out (her birthday is this time next month). That's nice.
I just got back from Staples. I bought myself a birthday present. A new scanner. I deserve it plus I still have "tons" of photos to scan for my faithful blog followers.
Going to have some lunch now, take a nap and then get back on this computer to see who all sent me good wishes. But I have to tell you folks, the older I get the less "special" the birthdays are. Probably because my birthday doesn't seem to matter to close friends (where are you Lar and Bill B?) I've known over the years and relatives (both brothers and all my nieces and nephews). Bill and Pat are the only exceptions. They both wished me a "happy birthday" this morning. The others? It's called "being taken for granted." Do I sound like I'm complaining? Not really. Just a tinge of sadness. No biggie though.
Me and my Mom, November 1941 - The Beginning
My Mom told me I was born at 9:30 AM on a Sunday morning. She was sharing a room with a woman who was dying of cancer. She said I was born amid the screams of the dying woman who obviously was not on pain killers. So here we are on another Sunday morning, seventy-three years later. Lots of water under the bridge folks but I'll tell you one thing, I've had one very interesting life. And for the most part, a very good life. All my dreams have been realized. Of course there were a few "valleys" but I was always able to survive. How much longer I'll survive? It's all gravy now folks. I'm happy now and that's all that counts.