Summer Days

Here we go, another summer has arrived in its full glory.

This year I will be spending this summer without my friends Ed and Wayne ("The Cajun").  While I will miss them I have still have friends who I can and will enjoy this summer with.  

Of course first and foremost is my Bill.  Bill, the man who rescued me from the path I was headed down of indolence and waste fifty-one years ago next Friday.

My two good friends who I used to hang with, Ron Hampton and Ed Cage, went down that path and (of course) are gone now.  Both from the ravages of their lives of indolence and waste. Bill saved me from taking that journey with them. 

Bill, the man who saw the promise in me.  That I was more than just a one-night trick (which I wasn't by the way). The man who believed in me and gave me a life.  Damn, I sound like I'm accepting an Academy Award.

Well, anyway.  I wanted to shoot off a short post this sunny, Sunday morning to tell the world that I am one happy and very lucky man to be where I am today.  As I have said many times in past postings, every day I get up these days is a bonus.  It's all "gravy" folks.

Just look at where I am.  I live in a wonderful home in a wonderful part of the country and I have a good job with folks who I like and they like me (I think most of them do anyway).  

I have other good friends like longtime friend Larry M. (sixty years) and a more recent friend like Pat F. (two years who, as you know I reference quite frequently in my posts).

I also have many good blog friends, some of whom I have been fortunate enough to meet in person (that would be you Tony, Nadege, Jay, David, Mark, Helen, Randy and of course Dr. Spo).  There are others who I only know from afar (Jon, Walt, and Ray) who I would love to meet someday.

This summer starts out with the wonderful news that marriage is now possible for every gay man and woman across this country.


Freedom! Equality! Respect!

And this summer starts out with me being able to walk again after a calamitous fall on the ice I had last February which put me out of commission (and totally dependent on others) for three full months. To say I appreciate life now would be an understatement. 

So here we go with another glorious summer season.  Who knows, this may be my last but even if it is, I'm ready to live every day like it is my last day on earth.  

Isn't life strange though?  When we're young the days can't seem to pass by fast enough. Now that we're older, the days fly by.  

Summertime, here I come!

Supreme Court Rules In Favor of Same Sex Marriage Nationwide

Well, it happened. The majority (5-4) of Supreme Court justices ruled that same sex marriage is legal nationwide.  They overruled the wrong-headed thinking of the minority of Supreme Court justices who believe that "it should be left up to the states" to decided who has equal rights.  In other words, the rights of a minority should be decided by the votes of a majority.  

Bill and I will celebrate our 51st anniversary as a couple this day, next Friday.  Next Friday is also our second "official" wedding anniversary.  Folks, I have to tell you that when I met Bill fifty-one years ago at the Westbury Bar at 15th and Spruce Streets in Philadelphia that never . . . . NEVER in our wildest dreams did we ever think or believe that in our lifetime our love and life would be recognized and treated with the dignity and respect that straight couples automatically receive.  That we would no longer be the most despised minority in this country.  That one day we would no longer be "less than."  That one day we would be equal.  Not better, not less but EQUAL.

Bill (35) and Ron (22) - Pennsuaken, NJ - 1964 - Young Love

Bill (86) and Ron (73) - 2015 - Old (enduring) Love

Leg Injury Update June 2015

The folks at Tidewater Physical Therapy, Milton, DE
(Pat, Melissa, Kathy, Richard and ME!)

How's the leg Ron (you might ask)?

Just fine.  I was informed this week by Rich, my physical therapist that I only have four more visits (two next week and two the following week).  Then I'm on my on.

I can walk unaided without a cane now and I'm here to tell you I am might happy about that fact.  I still have a slight limp, which will gradually dissipate as time goes on.  However, I still have to be very careful that I don't twist my leg by turning around too fast or else I'll be back to Square One.  And I DON'T want to go there again.

It's ironic but I was dreading physical therapy but my three times a week sessions (one hour each) have proven to be most beneficial to me.  Not only in helping me to get back to normal physically but mentally.  I'm not ashamed to admit that I was quite freaked out when I first injured my leg way back on February 18th, by falling on the ice and rupturing (severing) my quadricep muscles in my left leg.  I had no use of that leg and feared that I never would again.

You know how they something good always comes out of something bad?  Well, that's what happened here with me when I had that terrifying accident that left me totally dependent on Bill and others for survival.  Not only do I have a new awareness of the appreciation of good health and being able to move around on my own but I also have a new patience for others who are handicapped.  Never again will I be impatient with a person of less than mobile means who is slowing me down during my regular routine.  

And you know something else that happened during my ordeal?  I made new friends, the physical therapy folks (Richard, MacKenzie, Melissa, Kathy, Olivia and Suzanne).  I look forward to seeing them everyday and I will miss them when I no longer return. 

So here is the prognosis for me folks:

My leg won't be completely healed for about a year.  I still can't kneel and wash my tiled kitchen floor.  And I certainly can't "hop, skip an jump" as the questionnaire that I have to complete every two weeks at physical therapy requires me to fill out.  But I can get around on my own.  And I can drive my car!  And what a wonderful, precious freedom that is.

Now I'm ready to go for a significant stretch of time in which I have NO health issues.  The past few years have been quite an adventure for me with my health issues.  But then I always think, three of my close friends died this year. It can always be worse.  So now I am ready to jump back into Life with both feet, or at least step in gently. 

Me with friends David and Scott - David was also going to physical therapy and we happen to run into each other at the supermarket after my physical therapy session - I no longer have my cane!

Coffee Shop Pat

My (Canadian) buddy Pat loves coffee.  

Now why do I preface my reference to my pal Pat with "Canadian"?  Heck if I know other than I am proud to have this splendid Canadian (actually he's half American, his Mom was born in Detroit, Michigan) as my friend.  But I digress.

Pat loves coffee.  He loves coffee shops.  In his hometown of Canada there is NOT a day that goes by that he doesn't grace a coffee shop in his hometown of Canada.  Why even this morning he sent me a video while he was having coffee at a fro fro coffee shop in Yorkville (that's the Canadian Beverly Hills, CA to you folks).  

A familiar site in the morning wherever Pat is, getting his morning coffee whether it be at McDonald's, the local Mom and Pop coffee shop or frou frou Forrest Hills in Toronto Canada

Me, I never got into the coffee Thing.  I can drink it and I don't mind a good cup of real java but most coffee I've had in my life taste like colored hot water with an old dishrag left in it.  Starbucks is the exception but their caramel creme latte is more like a dessert isn't it?

Pat has a tradition whenever he visits Lower Slower, we go out in the morning and he treats me to one of these hot sugary confections.  We hit the Starbucks on Route One, towards Rehoboth.  That Starbucks is always bustling and I wouldn't go there unless Pat is visiting.  

Last month while Pat during Pat's annual visit to Casa Tipton-Kelly, he accompanied me to my thrice weekly physical therapy sessions in Milton. I usually have these sessions from 9 AM to 10 AM.  Afterwards Pat was delirious of his morning coffee break.  And you know me, always one to accommodate when someone is kind to me and Pat did accompany me to my PT sessions. 

As we left the physical therapy center I mentioned to Pat "There has to be a coffee place in Milton.  I know Milton is dead but I can't imagine they don't have a place to get coffee."  And lo and behold, viola!  As we were riding down Federal Street in Pat's rented car, there it was, a coffee shop!  Who knew?  In quaint little Milton, an actual coffee shop.

Pat in the Milton coffee shop

Of course we were the only patrons in the shop except for the Town Lech (which I didn't find out about until later).  But what a pleasant interlude, right here in River City Milton.  Actually Milton is a "River City."  The Broadkill River runs right through it and, occasionally, during a heavy nor'easter or a hurricane, downtown Milton does get flooded.

Flooding in downtown Milton DE

While we were at the coffee shop Pat received a phone call from his real estate agent.  She told him he had a buyer for his lot!  So, it looks like this quaint, little coffee shop in downtown Milton won't be Pat's regular coffee hangout after all.  Oh well, Toronto has plenty of coffee shops. 

Bid adieu Pat.

Snakes

A surprise visitor on my compost pile - 2004

There are few things that really put a fright into me. 

Actually, there are MANY things that put a fright into me (come to think of it).  But most things I can anticipate and avoid.

However, there is one notable exception that on occasion I have not been able to avoid.  And that exception as you may have guessed is a snake.

Now I'm not one of those people who as soon as they see a snake will get out some blunt instrument and kill it.  That is not me.  In fact I hate to kill any living creature or insect.  Some notable exceptions are flies, mosquitoes and Japanese beetles.  Most other insects I cup up and put outside but I digress. Back to our subject of SNAKES.

See that photo of that "sweetheart" at the top of this blog.  Yep, I took that photo in the spring of 2004 at our former residence in Pennsylvania. 

One fine spring day in 2004 I approached my grass compost pile and lo and behold, there on the top of the pile reposed a snake, sunning itself.  Oh yes, a SNAKE.

Now I don't know what kind of snake it was.  I'm sure somebody reading this blog will tell me, but I suspect it was a harmless king snake.  Harmless to me anyway because they are not poisonous. But hey, they can still bit though can't they?  And that is one thing I have never experienced, nor do I want to experience, is a snake bite.  I can just imagine a snake with its fangs embedded in my arm and me, long body dangling from my outstretched arm as I run, screaming like a little girl for help.  

This was the third time I encountered one of our slithering friends by chance.

The first time was back in 1976 when Bill and I first bought out wooded acreage in Pennsylvania where we built our future house.  Bill pulled up his car in an open field area of our 6.875 acres.  As I lifted my leg to step out of the car, and as my right foot was descending earthbound, I saw a snake just like the one pictured in this blog.  As gravity was irrevocably pulling my doomed foot to the ground ON TOP OF THAT SNAKE, I let out a scream you wouldn't believe.  Hey, I didn't even know I COULD scream.  But scream I did.

Well, I must have scared the daylights out of that snake because it took off like a bat out of hell scared assed snake in the grass and my foot landed safely, snake bit free on the ground.  My heart was racing like Republican politician at a Hillary Clinton fund raiser. I think that snake was more afraid of me than I was of it.

The second time I had a scary encounter with a legless lizard was when I was on a volunteer roadside litter pickup crew.  There I was on that chilly spring morning, picking up trash at the Coatesville interchange when I pick up a hubcap and what did I spy right beneath the hubcap?

Black snake

Oh yes I did.  He (or she) looked at me and I looked back.  Then, very slowly I replaced the hubcap on top of him (or her), just the way I found it.  Thank goodness I didn't scream like a little girl this time.  But my heart was racing like a (well, let's see) former House Speaker Dennis Hastert at a Gay Pride Day March. 

These days few things surprise me.  But I venture to say I probably have a few more surprise encounters with a snake.  Just last week, while I was out in the back yard meandering about, a big black snake slithered down the cement steps to our basement.  This time I wasn't frightened at all.  In fact, I was glad this big black snake was hanging around our house.  I did notice that this past year I didn't have a problem with field mice trying to get into the house.

Snakes are our friends.  I just don't want to step on one.

Father's Day

Pop with smoking his pipe which eventually caused his death (lung cancer) 1991 - master of all he surveys

Father's Day is almost over this year and I debated whether or not I wanted to even post about this day.

As regular readers of my blog know, I did not have a close relationship with my father.

I am the oldest of his three sons (Isaac, Jr, and John).  

Me (standing apart to the right as I do in most of my childhood pictures - a portend of things to come?) with Pop's Packard - 1947

"Pop", as we called him, was a charmer to the ladies but I don't believe he ever wanted children.

Oh sure, I think for a brief moment (or two) he like the novelty of having a child and a son, even though my Mother wanted a girl.

Me on Pop's shoulders 1942 - I was always envious of dads who carried their kids on their shoulders and wished I had the experience. Apparently I did but I was too young to remember this experience

He had ten brothers and no sisters.  He probably thought he was going to start his own football team just like his hillbilly parents did from North Carolina.

Pop (back row, far right, tallest) and his ten brothers - 1961

My father died in August of 2000 at eighty years of age of lung cancer.

Me with Pop a week before he died - 2000 

During his lifetime he was always seemed annoyed with me.  Maybe he was disappointed that I wasn't "manley."  I was semi-sissy growing up (played with paper dolls but I wasn't swishy and effeminate). 

Maybe he felt me and my brothers hindered him and his carefree ways.  

Until my Mother reined him in, he cheated on her constantly during their early years of marriage. 

I didn't know this until after he died and my Mother "spilled the beans."  I guess she just wanted to set the record straight.

She told me one time she was crossing the street in Coatesville, holding onto the hands of me and my younger brother Isaac.  As she was crossing the street she noticed my father in driver's seat in the car stopped at the red light.  He had a woman (his current girlfriend) in the passenger seat.  

My Mother said she opened the back door of the car and started to get in with me and my brother.  My father told her "Get out!"  She told him "No I'm not getting out.  You have three small children (my other brother was still a baby and at home) that you have to take care of.  You're going to drop your girlfriend off and come home and be a father to your children or I'll leave you."

Now the funny thing about my father was that he totally loved my Mother.  But he was also a charmer and loved the ladies.  He was a cross country truck driver (during the war) and would be gone for weeks, leaving my Mother to fend for herself in feeding "her boys" (the way she always referred to me and my brothers).  Also, the funny thing is that my Mother totally loved my father. But Pop had a wandering eye and the ladies did love that big man.  In fact, I have a letter my Mother saved from a woman who sent it to my Mother.  She wrote to my Mother that she would never be able to hold onto her husband because he was a "big man" (which he was by the way, in more ways than one). My Mother wanted me to destroy that letter after I read it but I didn't.  I still have it.

Ike Tipton - The Charmer - 1941

One thing about Pop, he didn't want to lose my Mother.  In all the years they were married before he died (sixty-one) I never once heard them argue.  In fact I never heard them raise their voice once to each other.  And he certainly did not beat my Mother (I couldn't even imagine that) but he did occasionally take the belt to us kids when we got out of hand (nothing serious though). 

Prior to discovering him with a girlfriend in his car, my Mother didn't realize he was spending the family money on his girlfriends. After that episode my Mother took over the finances of the family.

She ran the household from that date on.  She told me Pop still flirted with the ladies (he did until the day he died) but she didn't think he ever had intimate relations with them after that encounter.

Mom and Pop - Christmas 1980 in the kitchen - he knew he had a good thing with Mom

Mom kept the family together and that's why to this day I honor her on Mother's Day but I feel nothing for Father's Day.

My father wasn't a bad person but he wasn't what I consider a father to me either.  He constantly put me down.  Made fun of my appearance (called me "beak" because of my prominent nose).  Called me "stupid". He never had anything good to say to me.  In fact, and I am ashamed to admit this, I was afraid of him.  Of course I always sought his approval but never received it. I never got one compliment from him during my lifetime.  Not one word of encouragement.  

When I left home at 18 years of age to join the Army I was a mess.  I had zero self confidence (still have a degree) and was scared of my own shadow.  But I knew I had to leave home.

The three years I spent in the Army were the most beneficial of my life because I gained confidence in myself.  I wasn't this horrible, awful loser that my father brainwashed me into thinking about myself.

Many years after I left the Army and had a successful banking job in Philadelphia, I was having a casual conversation with my Mother.  She told me something that shocked me, even to this day.  She said "Pop didn't think you could ever make it."  I said "Make what?"  She said "Get through the Army."  I said "Why wouldn't I make it?"  She said "He just didn't think you had it in you."  

I was so shocked when I heard this, of just how low his opinion of me was.  I was hurt and shocked.  Sure, I had a difficult time in basic training but I was determined to "make it."  There were several times when I almost didn't make it but I was so determined that I remember thinking at the time "I'll have to die before I drop out of this forced march." 

Another time I almost blew myself up with a hand grenade (I didn't know how the pin worked).  Again, the thought of quitting was never an option for me, I was determined to "make it", and the only thing that would stop me would be death.  

I've often thought over the years "Where did I get this determination?"  Then I figured it out, that was my Mother's genes taking over.  She never gave up on life even though she had a very rough beginning.  She never gave up on my Father even though he cheated on her and spent all the family money on floozies.  She never gave up on keeping the family together and she never gave up on him.

And she never gave up on me which is why I am the person I am today.  

My father was childlike in many ways.  You might say my Mother raised FOUR boys.

Pop with a Christmas teddy bear that I bought for my Mother - he softened up somewhat in his twilight years - in this picture he is about the age (73) that I am now

Happy Father's Day Pop, wherever you are.

Elton

This morning while perusing You Tube I came across this video of Mick Jagger attending an Elton John lawn party.  

Check out Elton's "lawn" folks.  And I thought I had a fabulous lawn.  

Bill and I have been in Delaware for nine years now and yet to have a lawn party.  Maybe it's time.  Can  you see the look on Bill's face if I had one of THESE lawn parties?  I love it!

After watching this video, the documentary of Elton made by his partner (now husband) David Furnish followed on You Tube.  It's called "Elton John Tantrums and Tiaras". 

I've never seen it before but heard a lot about it.  Amazingly it was made in 1997, eighteen years ago.  Oh where does the time go?  


Well, I sat here in front of my computer this morning on this hot and humid Saturday morning and watched the whole thing.  And I am glad I did.  

I've always liked Elton John.  Not only because of his genius and talent but because he is totally honest.  And honesty is what I respect most in people.  There is nothing phony about this man . . . . . . NOTHING.  And he is funny.  I love funny.

If you have the time watch it and enjoy.

Have a great day!

One Grain of Sand

Have you ever wondered what your place is on this earth?  

That you are less than one grain of sand on a sun bleached beach?

I have often wondered why I am here. 

What is my purpose in life.

Is it just to survive?  

Of course most of life is a struggle to survive just as it is for most living life forms on this earth.  

We struggle. 

We have failures.

We have successes.

A few days ago a horrible tragedy occurred in Charleston, South Carolina.  A deranged, lone gunman opened fire in an all black church and massacred nine innocent individuals. 

I've often wondered when an act of pure evil like this occurs, what do those people who believe in God think.  Why does He allow this to happen?  

No big philosophical discussion here this morning, it's just that I do wonder what this life is about when something like that happens. Is life so random? I believe it is.

There is no order.  The best we can do is make every day count.  

Be the best we can to ourselves first and to others. I don't necessarily mean dropping everything and volunteering your time at the local soup kitchen but just to be kind to one another every moment of the day.

And those times that we do encounter evil or those who are not kind, try to neutralize them with your kindness and if that isn't possible, them remove yourself from that situation. 

Life is survival, and kindness.

Like all of us, I have encountered those times when others haven't been kind to me.  I could spend a lot of energy hating them or I could spend that energy making the most out of my life by enjoying life and being kind.  I can do both of those things at the same time. 

I've often joked that the reason I didn't play basketball in high school was because I couldn't dribble the ball and run with it at the same time. There are a lot of things I can't do at the same time like now.  I have to tell hotel guests that I can't check them in and at the same time give them information of the best restaurants to attend while they're in town. I just can't do both of those things at the same time.  But I can live my life and be kind.

This is a long blog, one of my stream of consciousnesses blog postings. My regular readers know I occasionally go off on one of these tangents. Usually triggered by some horrific act of evil perpetuated on innocent people, while an unknowing and invisible God stands by leaving us to guess what His motives are.  Hey folks, there is no motive.  

It is just evil, that's the way some people are.  And we have to live with them and hope Our Turn doesn't come someday when some crazy assed, self deluded individual who has an all to easy access to guns to make himself a Big Man decides to make a statement. He feels powerless and this is the way he will get power, even if he has to lose his life doing it.  Hate is that strong. 

I've seen this face of unbridled hate myself many times in my life.  Most recently when I was visiting a distant cousin in the hillbilly hills of western North Carolina where my father was born.  I was researching my family history. All was going well until one cousin confronted me with "Ron, there is a rumor that you practice the gay lifestyle. Is that true?"  Of course I was shocked by the question but I answered "If you're asking me if I'm gay, I am."  He then said "Well get this bud, if you ever step on my parent's property you'll have me to deal with!  You got that bud?"

Well, I know a threat when I hear one so I didn't visit his parents the next day as I had planned to with my cousin Bob T. and his wife, who had never met these cousins who lived in our great grandfather's house. We had both made the trip to North Carolina specifically to visit them but since I was one of THOSE (gay), I decided that I would avoid a physical confrontation in those isolated mountain homes and visit the grave of my great-great grandfather instead so the trip wouldn't be totally wasted.  Of course I am well aware that my great-great grandfather, who died during the Civil War (fighting for the Union Cause, at least he got that right) wouldn't approve of my "lifestyle" either. 

Those nine folks who were killed in that Charleston church, their "lifestyle" was that they were black.  They were different and the monster who killed them couldn't stand that.  And let's just be clear here folks.  Where did this monster get his ideas that he had to hate blacks?  Was it the environment we was brought up in?  The father who gave him a "gift" of a hand gun? What father does that?  

So back to my original thought on this blog that I am (as you are) simply a grain of sand on the beach. We all try to survive the best we can among the evil that is ever present all around us.  Whether that evil be of a lessor kind than a telemarketer trying to sell us something we don't need, or a con man swindling us out of our hard earned money or, as was the case in Charleston, a madman with a totally deranged mind (and a bad hairdo, ever notice the hairdos on this monsters? That's a giveaway every time and how this most current one got caught when a florist recognized his bowl haircut). 

So my purpose in life?  Take this morning for example.

I got up, greeted Bill.  Told him about my night at work at the hotel last night (uneventful, same old, same old). 

After breakfast I got my checkbook out to balance it since I got my first paycheck since my fall last February 18th.  

Sitting at my computer I called my Toronto friend Pat on FaceTime.  I usually check in with him every day on FaceTime.  We share and laugh.  

I saw where my blogger friend Dr. Spo from Phoenix Arizona called me on FaceTime (I missed his call) earlier.  I called him on my iPhone while I had Pat on my iMac.  

We made it a "three-way" with Dr. Spo, me and Pat.  We shared and we laughed and did a bit of teasing (I advised Dr. Spo to get an Apple Watch like I now have so he will impress people.  He said that wasn't necessary because he already impresses people.  Point taken Dr. Spo. 

So you see we do have fun.

I still haven't even begun to balance my checkbook and Bill stopped in to tell me he's going to get gas for my car and his five gallon can for the lawnmower.  All mundane activity to some, especially those bent on perpetuating evil in the world, but happiness to us.  

I'll probably hang around the house most of the day and the only evil I will have to deal with are the daily telemarketer calls telling me "You won!"

All my life I try to minimize my chances for encountering evil or bad situations.  Sometimes it is unavoidable like last February 18th when I was leaving work and I fell and ruptured the quadricep muscles in left leg.  That simple random act changed my life irretrievably.  For almost three months I was totally dependent on Bill for survival.  If it wasn't for Bill I would have been housed in one of those rehabilitation centers.  Hey, it was bad enough being helpless around here but at least I was in my own bed, eating my own food, using my own bathroom and not having to suffer through the isolation and loneliness of surviving in a rehab center. 

My leg is recovering but I do notice that I have less energy and a weakness in both of my legs now.  Maybe that's old age creeping up on me (I remember both my Mom and my Aunt Mabel saying the first time they felt "old" was when there were in their seventies). 

Even now as I sit at this computer and type this seemingly endless and meandering scribe, my left leg is numbing up.  I doubt it I will ever fully recover but you know what folks?  I'm still here, still smiling and making others smile.

I may only be one grain of sand on the beach but my life has been fabulous.  Oh sure, there were a few setbacks here and there and certainly a few scary moments for sure.  

One thing is for certain though.  My life will end one day.  Maybe by a random act like falling on the ice like I did last February 18th ,and believe me folks, that could have easily become a fatal accident if I had lost consciousness in that alley of 5 degrees and laid there all night and froze to death because I couldn't move. Maybe there was some Greater Power that enabled me to take those few steps into the hotel lobby before I collapsed and make a 911 call for an ambulance - thank God I had my iPhone. 

I hope my life doesn't end violently like those poor folks at that church in Charleston.  I also hope that my life isn't one prolonged, painful, humiliating, and dependent illness.  

When I go I hope I do in my sleep.  That I just drift of to oblivion or wherever it is you go when you lose consciousness.  Wouldn't it be great if there was a Heaven and you could be reunited with all your loved ones? 

I don't believe is what will happen.  What I believe is that I will enter a great Nothingness. I will truly be that grain of sand on the beach.  But you know what folks? I'm having one helluva time right now and for that I am ever grateful.

Throwback Thursday - April 1994 - Uncle Aster

My Grand Uncle Aster Lewis and me in front of a historic general store in Jonesboro, Tennessee - 1994

This week's Throwback Thursday is a recognition of my grand uncle Aster Lewis (1919-1997).

The photo in this posting is of my Uncle Aster Lewis and myself taken in the historic town of Jonesborough, Tennessee (in 1994 - over twenty years ago)!

Uncle Aster was significant in my life because he opened the way for my genealogical research into my paternal family line.

The spring of 1994 was the first year I met my grand uncle Aster.  Before that date I didn't even know he existed.  How it came about that I knew I had an Uncle Aster was from my Aunt Peg Tipton.  

Aster was the son of Isaac Ledford Lewis, my great grandfather and the father of my grandmother Hester Lewis Tipton, who married my grandfather Fieldon Tipton. 

Uncle Aster's father and my great grandfather Isaac Ledford Lewis - abt. 1940

Aunt Peg knew I was interested in researching my paternal line of Tiptons from whence they came in western North Carolina.  

My great grandfather Isaac Lewis (no relation to Jerry Lewis)

When I left my job at the bank in Philadelphia on April 1st, 1994 (I quit), I made plans to visit my brother John in Greenville, South Carolina.  From John's home it is a two hour drive to the mountains of western North Carolina which borders on eastern Tennessee and the city of Johnson City, Tennessee.  Aunt Peg gave me Uncle Aster's phone number and suggested I call him knowing that he would know folks who still were living who knew my grandfather Fieldon Tipton before he moved with his family to southeastern Pennsylvania during the late 1920's to seek work (they were starving in the mountainous hills of western North Carolina - oh yes - they were hillbillies - when his lumber business went belly up. 

Me headed up to the top of the mountain to Goldwater Cemetery where my great grandfather Isaac Lewis is buried

Uncle Aster was a traveling, fire and brimstone, preacher.  He was very poor but generous with his time and knowledge in helping me research my family history.

I specifically remember one thing he said to me when I left.  He said "God be with you Ron because I know I'll never see you again."  And you know what folks, I never did again.  He died three years later but I will be forever thankful to him form providing me the path to research my family history through his introductions.  

The headstone of my great grandfather Isaac Lewis's grave at the top of the mountain which is now inaccessible

The Coldwater Cemetery, a private Lewis cemetery located at the top of a mountain on Upper Pigeon Roost Road, Green Mountain, Tennessee.

Pictured above are Glenn Renfro (who owns the land and is married to Wanda Byrd who is the granddaughter of Pansy Tipton, who was the sister of my grandfather Fieldon Tipton - I hope you go that and your head doesn't hurt now).

Aster Lewis is in the center of the photo and my brother John is to the far right.  He was taking a video.  You can see him shouldering the video camera (this was before iPhones and videos).  

This was and is a beautiful and peaceful cemetery now inaccessible.  A side note; during my last visit three years ago Glenn Renfo's son Jerry asked me if I was gay (specifically he asked "There is a rumor that you practice the gay lifestyle, is that true?"  I told him I was (I answered his question by saying "If you're asking me if I'm gay, I am").  He was the relative (second cousin, once removed) who  threatened me by saying "If you ever visit my parent's again you'll have me to deal with!"  

Of course I haven't been back since but I am so appreciative to my dear Grand Uncle Aster who providing the hospitality that the South is known for when I visited him over twenty years ago.  

Uncle Aster at his mother's grave (not my great grandmother, my great grandfather married a second time after his first wife my great grandmother died) in Johnson City, Tennessee.  Aster's wife is to the left. Aster is now buried in this cemetery.

Attracted To Bright and Shiny Objects

Guilty!  

Yes, I am guilty of being attracted to bright and shiny objects.  Sometimes I think I was born with a flashing lights disco ball in my Mom's hospital room. 

One of my favorite movie scenes if Marilyn Monroe singing "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend."




From a very early age, when I spied one of my uncle's diamond pinkie rings, I wanted a diamond ring. 

I thought that was the ultimate, to own a diamond ring.  And, since I was a guy and not a girl, it wasn't likely that a handsome beau would buy me a diamond ring. So on January 8th, 1970 I bought my very first diamond ring at Cooper's Jeweler's in Philadelphia.  It was a one carat, almost perfect, brilliant cut diamond with a 18 carat gold band. 

I cleaned out my savings account at that time ($1,100) to buy this thousand dollar diamond ring (plus tax).  But you know folks, I've never regretted that buy since because to me, that diamond ring meant that I was treating myself well.  I wasn't dependent on someone else's largess or charity and I certainly wasn't subject to "strings attached."

Since that date almost 45 years ago I've "treated" myself several times to baubles.  Bright, shiny baubles. 

Not that I needed them mind you, but just BECAUSE.

Yesterday it was TIME again.  I received my Apple watch.  

Me checking out my new cool Apple watch - feels good on the wrist!

Now you may ask "Did you need a new watch Ron?"  And I would answer "No."  But this watch was so cool I just HAD to have it.

Could I afford this watch? Well, no but I didn't have to take out a loan to buy it either.  I paid for this watch out of my "disposable income" or more accurately my nest egg for my future care at assisted living for Old Gay Males.  Sorry Brandywine Assisted Living, you're going to have a little less funds to suck from me when you have me in your clutches.

We all choose how we want to spend our lives.  For some it is the comfortable and safe environment in their old age in an assisted care facility like my friends Jim and Bob above.  For me, I'll take a new bauble any day and live out my remaining years here at Casa Tipton-Kelly with my shiny, bright objects. 

Another Blogger Gone

David entering the Bloggerpalooza festivities with his friend and paying the Warrior Queen

This morning Jay, a fellow blogger sent me a message asking me if I knew what happened to David Jeffreys.  He said that David hasn't posted a blog in five months.  

David and Wayne - both gone this year

I immediately got on the Internet and searched for David's name in the obituaries and sad to say I found that he died this past December 23rd, three days after his 72 birthday.

I didn't know David that well. I only met him once in person at that was at the 2013 Bloggerpalooza that was held in Lewes, Delaware. Still, I am saddened by David's death.  

In the past year alone three good friends of mine have died:

Bob McCamley  September 10, 2014
Ed Cage            January 27, 2015
Wayne Juneau   February 17, 2015

I guess at my age (73) the passing of friends and acquaintances will happen with increasing frequency.  

David with his friend Jay

Not to end on a totally sad note, I found out while researching information on David that his middle name of "E" stood for "Elmo."  

David, it's a good thing you didn't let us know that at the Bloggerpalooza.

David's last blog posting was in November.  He did a "Throwback Tuesday - Thanksgiving Edition.  Click HERE to read it.  

Rest in peace David.

David gets a "Dr. Spo" hug