Memories Of My Fabulous Life With Bill

Me making the Big Move from my Coatesville apartment to Bill's apartment in Pennsauken, New Jersey February 1965

 I do believe I am slowly adapting to the new reality of the eventuality of not having Bill in my life any more. 

Today was another day he slept most of the day. He's sleeping now. I put him to bed (his recliner chair) abut a half an hour ago. As he rested his head back on his chair he said "Off to Dreamland" and sighed.

There is a noticeable difference this time from his return from a hospital stay. Even though he can walk, he would prefer not to go up and down the stairs to his basement bathroom as often as he did before his latest hospital stay. He has a glass jar that he uses to pee in when we return from our rides or when he gets up from his recliner chair in our sunroom. This is because he is weaker physically. In the past I would have complained but not now, if that is what works for him, so be it. After he pees in the glass jar he pours it out on the macadam entrance to our garage. I rinse it off with clear water when he's done.

I think we're managing his swallowing problem. He so likes his oatmeal and doesn't want to give it up. Tonight I made his oatmeal and put it in my blender and pureed the shit out of it. He liked that. He drank his oatmeal from the bowl and didn't choke once. 

For lunch, instead of his usual vanilla Ensure, I bought him some spiced pumpkin soup. It was pureed. I gave him a tablespoon full but he said "It's OK." That means he doesn't like it so I ate the rest of it. It was delicious. I will go back to Food Lion tomorrow to clean them out. At $2.99 a container (special sale) it's not only a great bargain but cheap.

I had a lot of time to think today because Bill is sleeping so much that we don't talk as much as we used too. I came to realize that he's slowly been dying the past several years. If he does die before me I shouldn't be all that shocked because the Bill I've known all these years began "leaving" me several years ago. 

Bill was always a presence and I mean that in the nicest way. He was always working on some project.  We had a good partnership. I ran the household and he did all the butch stuff like fixing the plumbing, building a stone wall around the three beautiful River Birch Trees that I planted to shade my bedroom in the summer and provide passive solar warmth in the winter when the leaves of that beautiful tree shed. Bill was always the driver in our family. In fact when I met Bill I didn't drive. I met him when I was 22 years old. I didn't get my own car until we move out of center city Philadelphia in 1980 and I was 40 years old. Bill always mowed the grass here. I did the cooking, managed our household finances and interacted with anyone who was necessary to interact with to keep us living. I made the appointments. I talked to the service people. Bill always stayed in the background. That was his preference and I didn't mine doing what I have done these past fifty-nine years we've been together. I'm the manager, Bill is the handyman (and a good one at that). We had a very nice arrangement, often the envy of some of our other gay friends who had a more lopsided arrangement.  I remember our friends Bob and Jim (both now long gone). They always made a big deal of splitting all the bills down the middle even to the penny. That's something I never got. At the end of the month Bob and Jim would sit at their dining room table and spread the household bills out and do the calculation, always to the penny. When they would go out to eat at a restaurant again, they would ask for one bill and then split it after figuring out how much each one owed. 

Yes, Bill and I had a good arrangement until a few years ago. Then after his strokes and Bill came home I noticed that he was diminished.  Like 80% of what he was once before. He was still concerned with trivial things like what are the neighbors doing (we both love gossiping about the neighbors) but realized he couldn't do his projects anymore. But he still held onto his tools. Lots of tools, you wouldn't believe. However, these past few months he started going through all his tools, electrical equipment (loads of transistors) and throwing them away. Even though he can't see, he managed. His strength always amazes me. Even now, as weakened as he is after this latest bout in the hospital, he is still walking, bless his heart. I don't think I could manage if he was totally bed ridden. 

We're both hoping that he passes peacefully in his sleep. He doesn't want to go and I don't want him to go but we both realize this is inevitable and it is best he goes before I go. We often joked that we could go together but "that would hurt too much" whichever way he decided. Of course we were never serious about that suggestion but if we were in an automobile accident and both died at the same time that would be "perfect." But we both realized that eventually one of us would be left and that person would suffer pain that is almost impossible to imagine. 

The closest I came to this kind of pain of a loved one was when my Mother died. She was 87 years old and in declining health for several years. My brothers and I expected her death and she died it was more like a relief because she didn't want to go into a nursing home and we promised we wouldn't put her in a nursing home. It was close (she was living with my youngest brother and his wife at the time, the same brother who died this past year and his widow is suffering the same measurable loss now that I am facing with Bill). when John (my brother) called me to say "Mom died last night", it was a shock to my system but I survived. Of course I miss her terribly and to this day, even though she died thirteen years ago, would like to call her and chat. She not only was my Mother but my best friend for many years. I was her favorite just as my youngest brother John was my father's favorite. Our poor middle brother Isaac, who now lives alone with his cat at the family house, was the classic middle child. Of course my Mother loved him too but he to this day says "You were Mom's favorite." 

Bill (center in the shadows) with my father and my Mother at their house (garage). Both my parents loved Bill. Bill was only four years younger than my Mother, who he was great friends with. He was probably more devastated when she died than I was. After she was buried he stayed at her freshly dug grave for hours saying goodbye. Maybe he will soon be reunited with her and I can see both of them again if there is a Heaven. 

With Bill, he came into my life when I was at a crossroads. I had just gotten out of the Army after a three year enlistment. I was living in a furnished apartment in Coatesville, earning less money than I did when I was honorably discharged from the Army. I was hoping to meet my Prince Charming and live happily ever after. I met Bill, who at that time I didn't consider my Prince Charming because he wasn't "my type" physically or emotionally but he was good looking, butch (I'm not attracted to femme gay guys, which was a dilemma for me when I was young, I'm gay but not sexually attracted to most of the gay guys I met). When I moved in with Bill it was more of a mutual convenience for both of us (I watched his apartment while he went on extended monthly work assignments with RCA and later GE). We had an "understanding" that I could still go out and he could too. And I did. Lots of times. All those affairs always turned out bad. And when it did, there was Bill, my rock. Always supportive of me no matter what my foolishness. Anyone else would have given up on me and tossed me aside. Not Bill. Always there for me, even consoling me a few times when I was inconsolable after one of those breakups. He was never angry. Several times I offered to leave me he didn't want me to. He always knew that no one else would ever love me like he did. And over time I came to realize that I loved him just as much. 

What a wonderful life we have had together these past almost fifty-nine years. Just how lucky I have been although Bill often corrects me and tells me he was the lucky one. Before he went into the hospital this time, when we were doing one of our daily drives, he would often recount how we met. Regular followers of this blog know that story but I'll repeat it for the newer followers. 

Once a month or so I used to visit the Westbury Bar at 15th and Spruce Streets in Center City, Philadelphia with my friends Ron Hampton (an old Army buddy) and Ed Cage (a friend from high school). I only went once a month because that's all I could afford to "go in town." Ron or Ed would drive. We all lived in the western suburbs of Philly. 

Bill with my longtime friend Ron Hampton (who died in 2005) at Atlantic City, New  Jersey 1975

When we went into the bar, usually about eleven o'clock Saturday night, we would station ourselves a the same location always. Way in back to the left right before the Men's and Ladies rooms, near where the bartender could flip up that part of the bar to leave. 

Ron and Ed would sit on stools but I always stood. One Saturday night Jerry the bartender (who I found out later was a good friend of Bill's) brought a drink (gin and tonic, my usual which I paid 75 cents for with a 25 sent tip, dollar total big tipper that I was). We three gave Jerry a puzzling look (by the way, we all thought Jerry was a hottie) and he handed the drink to me and nodded to a smiling man at the other end of the near the Skeet machine which was located near the doorway entrance to the Westbury. Jerry said "This drink is on him." I was a bit surprised because I had seen that man before loudly playing Skeet with his friends, whopping it up big time every time one of them got a good score. The first thing I thought, was "This guy thinks he going to pick up me up just like that? Sorry." Of course I wasn't interested. Even though Bill was very handsome and popular at that time he wasn't "my type." He was six feet tall and too handsome. I usually preferred a more nerdy, bespectacled small guy. I certainly wasn't going to be another "notch on the holster" of one of the most popular guys in the bar who could have almost anybody he wanted. I told this to my friend Ron and Ed and we all laughed. Ron and Ed were interested in meeting Bill but they knew me and I wasn't "easy." I think Ron and Ed would go with just about anybody, and over they years I was proven right but that's them. I considered myself more discerning. I was looking for a relationship, not a quickie one night sexual encounter. 

Over the next three months or so whenever we three were in the bar at the same time Bill would send a complimentary drink over to me. It got to be a joke with the three of us because there was NO WAY I was going home with him now. Ron and Ed would say "There he goes again. I wish he would send a drink to me."

Then there came that fateful rainy summer evening night of July 3, 1964. I again came in with Ron and Ed but they left the bar to check out some of the other local gay bars. I was alone. And again, that gin and tonic complimentary drink made it's way over to my side of the bar. I looked again across the bar and there he (Bill) was, alone this time. Again he nodded and smiled. Well, by now I felt a little bit guilty for all the drinks he had sent to this cash poor 22 year old gay guy looking in vain for his 5'9", 140 pound bespectacled Prince Charming. I thought the least I could do was go over and thank him for all the drinks because after all I am a nice guy under this sometimes gruff exterior (I'm actually very shaky most of time under this exterior even to this day, notice what I'm sharing with you now). As I rounded the bar the only thing I intended to do was thank him for all the drinks and go back to my usual spot at the corner of the bar. As I said before, Bill was alone this time, no Skeet ball machine whooping it up with his friends. He was sitting at one of those little round tables that the gay bars used to have like a night club back in those days of the early Sixties. I walked over to him at the table where he was sitting by himself and said "Thank you for the drinks." I had planned a quick exit because I expected him to be an aggressive ogre thinking I "owed" him at least one night in bed because of all he drinks. But he wasn't like that at all. In fact when he said "You're welcome" and smiled, he said nothing immediately. He just smiled. Then he said "Where are your friends?" I don't remember exactly what I told him, probably "They went to the Allegro" which was another gay bar across the street from the Westbury. What I do remember clearly was his deep masculine voice, his kind eyes, and his non aggressive manner. I hate aggressive people, especially aggressive gay people coming on to me for sex. Total turnoff for me. 

Thus we began conversing with one another. I think he asked me if I would like to sit. I know I did. Thus began to know Bill Kelly. He struck me as being a very nice guy. Again, "not my type" (don't you hate that expression) but a man. A good-looking, masculine man who liked me. What's not to like? I went home with him that night and for the next six months he would travel from his apartment in Pennsauken, New Jersey to Coatesville, Pennsylvania, fifty-one miles away across the Ben Franklin Bridge, through Philadelphia via the Schuylkill Expressway to pick me up at my Coatesville apartment and drive me back to his apartment at Penn Manor in Pennsauken New Jersey. 

Every week end. He may have missed one or two but I know it was a lot of driving for him. Who else would do that for me? I'll tell you, NO ONE. 

I had a job in Coatesville but wanted a job in center city Philadelphia. My friend Ron Hampton worked at Girard Bank right smack dab in center city Philly. Bill wanted me to move in with him. I didn't want to because I told him I was still going to go to the bars. He told me "A caged bird never sings. I don't mind if you go to the bars, just be discreet." I still didn't want to move in with him because I didn't think it would be fair to him but I did want to get a job in Philadelphia and out of the small town of Coatesville. I had enough of small town life and always wanted to live in a big city. Bill said I could move in with him at his apartment and it would also be beneficial to him because when he left on his projects sometimes he was gone as long as three months. I still didn't want to move in with him, I wanted my own place. I didn't want clamps on me. I already had two previous relationships (Jim G. and Bob S.) that didn't work out. I didn't want to go through that again. But Bill insisted, so much that for the first time he because angry with me and threatened to end our relationship unless I moved in with him.  Well, at that time of my life (twenty-two years old) I was pretty stupid but (thank God) I wasn't that stupid. Here was this MAN who really liked me giving me all the freedom I wanted and to live with him rent free. I didn't want to end this relationship. I consented and one sunny day (I think I have a picture of that move, my friend Ed drove me over with my houseplant and my few belongings to Pennsauken) I moved to New Jersey to began a new chapter in my life. Coincidentally Bill had already left on a new assignment for RCA so I moved in his apartment when he wasn't there. And thus began my life with this man I've lived with for the past fifty-nine years. He wasn't even there when I moved in!

Me at Bill's apartment in Pennsauken, New Jersey 1964 Bill built that Japanese screen, influenced by his stay in Japan with the American occupation forces after World War II - Bill was in the Air Force at that time. Before that he was in the Army and stationed in Germany during the occupation forces. He had a break in service to leave to take care of his mother when his step-father died and she had no means of support. That's Bill, always caring for someone else. He has spent his entire life since I met him caring for me that why I have no problem caregiving for Bill now. My goal is to make him as comfortable as possible before he leaves this life.

Now when we talk about our first meeting Bill tells me his side of the story. He said the first time he sent a drink over to me he told his friends "I'm going to get that one!" I tell him know "If I had ever known that I would never have went over and thank you for all the drinks you sent to me!" We laugh about it now but THAT's what he told his friends! Can you imagine the arrogance? But he said "I could have anybody I wanted in that bar and when I first saw you standing at the corner of the bar across the way I knew I wanted you. You were The One." "I asked Jerry (the bartender) who is that?" Jerry said he didn't know but that we usually came in once a month (which we did, it was all I could afford) and we were usually together. When Bill first asked Jerry to send a drink over to me Jerry said "Which one". Bill said "That tall good-looking one."

The rest is history folks. I have a picture that Bill took of me and Jerry the bartender when he visited us after I moved into Bill's apartment in Pennsauken the photo here:  (yes, that's a cigarette in my hand, I stopped smoking July 10, 1967 my pack a day Marlboro flip top box cigarettes)

Me and Jerry the bartender at Bill's apartment in Pennsauken, NJ 1965

. Looking at that picture makes me so sad because I think of all that has gone on since that time I moved in with Bill. All the ups and downs. The laughter, and the fights (oh yes, we have had some doozies". The stupid entanglements that I got in that almost ruined my life more than once. I still remember them all very clearly and Bill saw that what I couldn't see at those times. He's told me many times he knew those affairs wouldn't work out because no one would ever love me more than he loves me, something he still says even to this day in his weakened and greatly diminished state. Bill may be failing physically but his love is as strong if not stronger that it ever was. Just tonight as I put him to bed in his Archie Bunker chair in his basement bedroom and kissed him on his forehead, he said "I love you so much Potts (his embarrassing pet name for me which I'm revealing now, a shortened form of "Sweetie Pie"). Thank you for all you do for me." Now the tears come to my eyes as I type this because I know, I know Bill is leaving me. Alone. I will be alone again. 

I am thankful that when he does leave he will not suffer the pain of my loss, nor will he suffer any more his physical limitations of the past few years. Losing his eyesight was perhaps the greatest loss. When I look into his eyes now all I see is an emptiness. All he sees is my shadow. He has peripheral vision, he cannot see out the center of his eyes. 

When Bill goes, he will be at peace. If there is a Heaven he will be reunited with his Mother who died much too young at fifty-four years of age of a brain aneurism. He never even had a chance to say goodbye to her. His father, who he never knew, died in a drunk driving accident with several of his buddies after they ran into a bridge abutment in Toccoa Georgia where they lived. His father was only twenty-one years old. He left behind a widow and three children, Bill and this two older sisters. Bill was only one year old.

Bill with his mom and two older sisters and new half brother Jimmy Brown, Jimmy's nephew sent us this picture before he died a few years ago. This is the only picture I have of Bill as a child. He's a cuties, right!

His mother married again to a man who was very cruel to Bill. Bill did not have a good childhood. He said his step-father was an alcoholic who often came home drunk. In later life Bill's family disowned him (this happened a year before I met Bill) when they found out he was gay. Bill often talked about at how at his mother's funeral one of his sisters confronted him by pointing a finger at him and said in front of every one else at the funeral gathering "We know all about you! You should be ashamed of yourself!" Up until a few weeks ago Bill again related that story to me. He was very hurt and embarrassed. He left and never had contract with his family again. A few years ago one of his nephews found us and got in touch with us. Unfortunately he died suddenly and we never got to meet him. Then two years ago one of his favorite nieces found me though my blog and called the hotel to get my phone number and got in touch with me. She wanted to know how "Uncle Buddy" (as Bill was know in his childhood,"Buddy Kelly") was doing. We've been in touch occasionally since. Bill gave her all his old family pictures after the horrible confrontation at his mother's funeral. Even then Bill showed what a decent person her is, wanting someone in the family to have the Kelly and Brown (his mother's maiden name) family pictures. 

I haven't talked to his niece for a few months. I didn't tell her of Bill's latest medical emergency. Maybe she will read this blog. Of course things are different now. Bill would no longer be consider the pariah of his family because he is gay. The times I have talked to her she has been so kind. She even sent us a homemade quilt and an afghan. Both very nice and very kind of her and her mother to do so. She is the daughter of Bill's now deceased half brother Jimmy Brown, who Bill was good friends with while he was growing up in his blended family. He had another half brother but he wasn't close with him.

I'm giving a lot of detail in this blog. I'm wondering why and I think it's because I need to do something for make a permanent record of this great love affair I've had my whole adult life. Also to get my mind off, even if it is only temporally, who what I'm about to endure, the greatest loss of my lifetime. 

God bless you Bill and if there is a Heaven save a place for me so we can be reunited again. 

I love you Bill.

Me and the man I love, July 2010 Milton, Delaware