Venting time folks. Time for Ron to vent.
I try not to post too personal of situations to this blog but sometimes I just have to vent.
Next month will be me and Bill's 52nd anniversary as a couple. Three years officially married. Folks, it hasn't been easy.
By nature I am a loner. A LONER.
When I met Bill 52 years ago on that rainy Saturday night at the Westbury Bar in Philadelphia, I had no intention of living with anybody for the rest of my life.
From the time I was twelve years old, living in the maelstrom of a family life that included a Father who constantly put me down and treated me as an annoyance at best. A home life lived in second floor apartments without the benefit of a backyard yard that almost all of my schoolmates took for granted. The only backyards I saw were those I mowed for .50 cents from some of my customers on my paper route.
From the time I was twelve years old I wanted to live on my own. By myself. Solo.
|Me (with hoagies in hand) with my Mother and brother Isaac at our second floor apartment on Boot Road - 1954|
By the way, as I write this posting I can tell it's going to be longer than usual so if you have something more important or interesting to do I suggest you exit now because I'm really going to vent.
Back to my sad tale. So I met Bill lo these fifty-tow years ago. I liked him. He liked me. In fact he treated my like a prince. Like no one ever treated me before. I liked that.
I started to see Bill regular. I wasn't too concerned that Bill wasn't "my type." Oh sure, he was good-looking and popular. He was masculine and not effeminate like so many in the gay bar scene. He was all man and he liked me.
|The twice weekly trip from Coatesville, Pennsylvania to Pennsauken, New Jersey that Bill used to pick me up and drop me off - door to door service|
I didn't have a car. I had a small, furnished efficiency apartment in Coatesville, Pennsylvania; 44 miles away or just over an hour away. Bill had a two bedroom apartment in Pennsuaken, New Jersey, just over the Delaware River from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The total distance from my modest apartment in Coatesville, PA to Pennsauken, NJ was 55 miles, an hour and 21 minutes away.
Bill would pick me up every Friday night at my apartment in Coatesville, PA and transport my young self to his apartment in Pennsauken, NJ. Every Sunday night he would reverse that trip. He did this every weekend for the next six months. Folks, who else would do that for me?
|Me with Bill at his Pennsauken New Jersey apartment 1964|
Even though I liked Bill it didn't take me too long to realize that we are almost totally opposite in every respect. And I mean every respect. But he treated me with respect. He treated me like a prince. I loved it.
Then came a time when he asked me to move in with him. I put him off. I told him I always wanted to live by myself. I wanted the freedom of coming and going without having to explain every moment of my life's movement to someone else. Which is what I always had to do when I lived at home. The three years I was in the Army I was a little freer but, well when you're in the Army they want to know where you are all the time too.
When Bill realized that I didn't want to move in with him he became angry. This was the first time I saw him angry. I was torn. Me, who grew up always trying to please everyone so they would like me, I was making someone I liked and respected a lot angry.
For a week or so we were at an impasse. Finally he said "You can have all the freedom you want, I just want you to live with me." He said "You can come and go as you please but just live with me."
Well folks, he was good as his word. Sort of. Early on in our relationship he traveled a lot with his job. I was on my own during those months he was traveling on business.
From the time I moved in with him from 1965 to 1980 when we moved out in the country, Bill had a job in which he traveled and was away from home for months at a time. Those few months of "freedom" was enough to satisfy my need to be alone.
Then came a time when they wanted to send Bill to Africa. At that time I was making enough money to support the both of us. We were moving into a house in the country which we had built to our specifications. I suggested to Bill that he take an early buy out and just stay home and take care of the house. He took my suggestion and thus hasn't worked at a regular job since 1980. However, that didn't mean he didn't work because he took care of the home. Very well. Bill is very handy around the house (I am not) and he took care of everything except the gardening. That was my bailiwick.
So what is the point of this way too long blog posting? Where is my rant? Well folks, this morning I found out that Bill did it again. The one area in which I work very hard to have a beautiful home is my landscaping and gardening. Remember back when I said Bill and I are total opposites in almost everything? Bill can't help himself. He cut off the irrigation of our one acre of land this week. Yep, he did it and didn't tell me about it. Here I am slaving over getting all the planting in and they're struggling to survive and I can't figure out what's happening. Then I realized that Bill had changed the irrigation cycle form three times a week (Monday, Wednesday and Friday to OFF). He said "The lawn had enough water." When I confronted him about the fact that my flowers and planting aren't getting enough water and struggling he put his fingers in his ears and walked away. He didn't want to hear it.
|Me and Bill last year on our 51st anniversary|
Yep, that's the way Bill handles our "discussions." He doesn't discuss. Like I said, totally opposite from me.
Now this irrigation thing is just one instance. When we lived in our house in Pennsylvania he turned off the whole house ventilation system and insisted we have air conditioners in each room.
|Our house "in the country" - lovely on the outside but uncomfortable on the inside|
We had a big, beautiful house but Bill made it so we were restricted to certain rooms. There was a protocol (which I never got and was always the source of some heated, loud arguments) for what doors were to be kept open and which were to be kept closed. To me our big, beautiful house was useless because it was totally uncomfortable, a fact that was brought to our attention several times during visits by relatives and friends. But Bill wouldn't hear of it because Bill Is Always Right.
When I had this house built here in Delaware I forbade Bill from being involved. He didn't see the house until it was finished. I thought all was fine until last year when we had to have our whole HVAC system replaced (very expensive). At that time I discovered that Bill had AGAIN blocked off the whole house ventilation system with cardboard in the vents air intakes. I was furious.
Folks, I rarely get mad. I may rant but I rarely get mad. Anybody gets mad around here it always Bill getting mad at me and almost always for the same reason: I DON'T PAY ENOUGH ATTENTION TO HIM. Remember what I said about me being a loner? I am folks, to my soul.
Well, we got the whole house ventilation thing straightened out but not before Bill retreated with his hands over his ears again, not wanted to hear anything from me.
Now folks I'll be the first to admit I'm not the easiest person to live with. Maybe that's why I prefer to live alone. I realize there are benefits to living with someone. You have someone you can talk to when you get home from work to tell about that day's events. You have skills that compliment one another. Bill and I are lucky that way because where I excel in certain skills he excels in those areas where I don't. I run the household, cook, garden and deal with all outside contacts. Bill mows the grass, and does handyman work around the house. Bill spends NO money on himself, unlike me. I spend a LOT of money on myself.
So where is this rant going? Just venting folks. Bill and I are coming up on our 52nd anniversary and I just wanted to tell you, living together with the same person for 52 years is always a work in progress. It isn't easy. But I do love the guy and I would never leave him.
However, I am so fortunate that I found a new friend in Pat, my Canadian friend. Pat too is a loner. We converse each day by text message and FaceTime. Four times a year we get together. Yep, once each quarter.
|Pat in his Toronto "hoose" and me on FaceTime via our iPhones|
In February we visit Hollywood, California for a two week stay. Pat and I both love the glamour and history of Los Angeles and Hollywood.
|Me and Pat in LA this past January (Silver Lake) - we don't look too "touristy" do we?|
In the Fall, around my November birthday, we meet in our other favorite city, Philadelphia PA.
|Me and Pat on Broad Street in Philadelphia PA|
My former hometown. During that visit we take a quick run down here to my home here in Sussex County, in southern Delaware near Rehoboth Beach. At the end of August I fly to Buffalo to met Pat to spend a few days in Niagara Falls and then his home in Toronto, Canada.
|Me and Pat at the Easton Mall, downtown Toronto, Canada|
Every year I do so look forward to those visits. I LOVE Canada. Then in the Spring we visit Philadelphia again.
Pat and I have so much in common that we're often mistaken for brothers. In fact it has become a favorite mime how many cities that strangers will come up to us and ask us if we're bothers. So far the list includes:
- Lewes, Delaware while waiting in line to pay our bill at Nectar restaurant Pat was talking to another Canadian and he asked if I was Pat's brother.
- The next "sighting" was walking down Pat's street in Toronto and he introduced me to one of his neighbors and the neighbor asked if I was Pat's brother.
- The third time was when we were at the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles, and Pat was talking-to another tourist, and that tourist asked if we were brothers.
- The fourth time was while standing in line at Studio B in West Hollywood,
Standing in line outside the studio to get into the audience for "The Price is Right"
- Oh, I just remembered one more time. We were at Hollywood and Vine taking selfies as the touristas that we were when someone offered to take our picture. They asked "Are you brothers?"
|Me and Pat (before we lost our hats on the roller coaster) at the Canadian Expo - "You guys brothers?"|