A Midsummer's Night Dream and Other Ramblings

 Good morning folks!

I had another one of those early to bed and early up mornings. 

Last night after dinner I suddenly slipped into almost total exhaustion. 

I eat late, sometimes as late as nine or nine-thirty at night. Last night was a little earlier, I finished at 8:30 PM. But suddenly I was so tired I could hardly put one foot in front of another. I was planning on Face timing Pat as I usually do every evening but I wasn't even up for that enjoyable, daily tradition I've had with Pat going on twelve years now. I was so tired I didn't even have time for my nightly snack (a brownie was on deck last night to be devoured). 

It doesn't take too long for me to get to sleep, something that has always amazed Pat (he says "As soon as your head hits the pillow you're out.")

And out I was until I had to get up at around one o'clock for a bathroom visit. I tried to get back to sleep but it wasn't a deep sleep, instead very "surfacey" sleep. I finally got up at around 3 AM and here I am now. 

I think what's been knocking me out is this oppressive heat and humidity I've had to endure for the past month where I live in the southern most country here on the Delmarva peninsula. I might as well be in Florida. 

I want so back to get outside and do one of my favorite activities, trimming a weeding my almost once acre oasis here at Casa Tipton-Kelly where I am somewhat insulted from the stress and chaos that is the world now. I love my house and my almost one acre paradise. Few activities invigorate me more than "working outside." 

During this heat spell, about the only thing I have done outside is change my fish pond filter. That I have to do every four or five days and even then I have to perform that necessary task at the end of the day when the sun goes down before darkness descends on Casa Tipton-Kelly. Usually I am accompanied by the incessant barking of my widowed neighbor's Australian cattle dog poodle mix dog Cleopatra. She wants to play ball!

Me and Cleo on my neighbors deck this past July 4th

 

I have my routine down pretty pat now, so I can accomplish this task fast before the mosquitos figure out a way to get around the mosquito net I have around my hat. One day last week they did and I had those damn itchy mosquito bites on the back of my neck, ears and even on my cheeks (face). They were angry, probably because once they got in my mosquito net they couldn't get out.

Me and my mosquito net hat - not my best look

During these brutal heat and humidity days (temperatures in the low 90's and humidity also in the 90's), I'm trapped in my house. 

Trapped! Just like the dead of winter when the cold traps me in my house. Of course these are the time when I can clean out drawers, dust from top to bottom and finally sort out more contributions to my local Restore (Habitat for Humanity) store. But I'm rarely in the mood for that activity. I want to work outside. 

Today I think I get a reprieve. Thunderstorms rolled in last night. Right now outside is a cool 72 degrees. I'll take it!

Have a great day everyone!

Atop Curahee Mountain, Bill's hometown in Toccoa Georgia, May 3rd, 2011,
From this mountain top Bill and my ashes will be scattered at an unknown date in the future.

Reflections on Marching to 78 Years Old

77 year old Ron -fading away but still look better than Mitch McConnell who I am older than!

The birthday celebrations are over folks! Well, actually there were no birthday celebrations. But that is just fine, I prefer quiet birthdays.  I'm not one for surprise birthday parties or any birthday parties.  I've had a few in my lifetime.  While I appreciate the effort my friends put into the parties, I'm just as happy to have a quiet passage of yet another year. 

Now this may surprise you but I'm not sad at growing older.  I know my years left are a lot less than I have to live.  Doesn't make me sad. When I was young I was concerned that when I became an old man no one would want me.  No one would like me.  You know what?  Your view of the world changes when you become old.  At least my view has changed.  

I still find it hard to believe that I am this age.  That I have outlived so many of my friends, former co-workers and family.  When I was younger, I never expected to make it past sixty years of age.  In fact, would consider myself very lucky if I reached that grand old age of sixty.  

I remember when I first started going to gay bars when I was twenty-one years old.  I was warned by friends "Don't go into THAT bar, that's a "wrinkle bar."  I asked "What's a wrinkle bar?"  I was told that was a bar "where all the old queens gathered."  I thought, "Would I be one of those old queens gathering with other old queens lamenting about our lost youth?"  Of course I avoided those Wrinkle Bars like a plague.  I certainly didn't want to be associated with one of THOSE bars.  

The first person I was intimate with was twenty-nine years to my twenty-one years old.  I remember at the time thinking I was doing him "a favor" because he was "so old."  Can you believe it!?  Of course I like the guy and thought he was hot but still, to my youthful foolishness at that time I thought he was an old man.  Then I met Bill, the man I've been living with the past fifty-four years. He was their-five to my twenty-two years old.  Man oh man, he was OLD.  Almost old enough to be my father.  Now Bill is ninety to my seventy-seven, we're both old men. Doesn't make a difference. 

Now here's something that I thought would never happen in my life. I'm not actually attracted to young men.  Oh sure, I find them attractive but for me to hunger after one of them?  Not in my DNA now, for which I am so thankful for.  I am way more attracted to my Canadian Travel Buddy Pat, who I think is incredibly hot.  Even after five years of knowing him, he is one sexy guy!  Nice guy too.  Maybe that's why I find him so attractive.  Young guys like a forty-five or fifty year old?  Nothing. And even younger?  That's laughable for which I an SO THANKFUL.  I remember seeing this one old guy in the bars when I was young lusting after the young guys.  I was concerned tat that time that I would be that old man.  Thank you God for not letting that happen to me.

Today is the first day of my 78th year.  I'm not as limber as I was sixty years ago.  I need a nap every day.  My stomach is more sensitive.  My body aches every day from the onset of arthritis. I have a respiratory condition which is very bothersome.  I have an extra heartbeat for which I take medication.  I take a daily pill for my prostate, for which I an now a five year survivor of prostate cancer. I've suffered more bouts of kidney stones than I can remember and have an appointment next week with my urologist who is monitoring a kidney stone that is ready to fall.  I only have half my teeth.  My eye doctor told me my cataracts are coming.  You get the idea, I'm slowly falling apart.  But I'm still here folks and living a comfortable life.  

No complaints here folks. Any regrets?  Oh sure but I chalk them all up to a learning experience.  

That's life folks!  

Throwback Thursday December 24, 1974

Me, December 24, 1974

Hey folks, this week's Throwback Thursday is forty long years ago when I was young and pretty. It's December 24th, 1974 at our town house in center city Philly.  I'm posing in front of my stash of Christmas cards.  I've been a big Christmas card sender since I was about twelve years old.  Still doing it folks but I'm thinking of drastically cutting back my card sending this year.

Me, forty years later  this morning at the Atlantic Cellular Phone store in Rehoboth Beach getting my new iPhone 6 set up. Lot of living in these past forty years!

Changes

Just sitting here on a Saturday night waiting for Frankenstorm to hit the coast of Delaware.  I was going to post about the original Frankenstein and was checking You Tube for an interesting film clip. I ended up looking at "Young Frankenstein" outtakes and laughing my ass off.  I was going to post those but decided instead to post this "Changes" compilation video of movie stars.  I'll post the Young Frankenstein outtakes closer to Halloween.  They are funny.  In the meantime check out this video to see how some of our favorite Hollywood stars aged.  Notice that some aged well (Barbara Stanwyck) and some not so much (Marlon Brando).

Enjoy!

Aging and the Gay Male

Bette Davis - 1929

Bette Davis has always been one of my favorite actresses.  She has also been one of my favorite personalities.  When Bette said something, you know she meant it.

As a young actress Bette wasn't the most beautiful actress but she wasn't bad looking either.  In fact, she was quite attractive in a Bambi-eyed type of way.

As she got older, she didn't let her aging face and body stop her from getting the maximum out of life.  She wasn't one of those actresses who hid behind a locked door (think Marlene Dietrich) when she became an old lady.

Bette Davis - many years later

There is a myth in some quarters that most gay males hate to get old.  Personally I don't know of any gay men who are hiding behind locked doors, hiding their wrinkled visage from the peering eyes of the public.  That includes me.

Like Bette, I wasn't the most handsome man in my youth but I wasn't bad either.  In fact, I didn't know that until I got older.  That was a result of being brought up in a household by a father who constantly belittled me but that's another story for another blog posting.

During my walk tonight I was thinking that I will soon turn 71 years old.  I'm thinking "I should feel bad about getting old."  Guess what?  I don't.  I really don't.  Would I like to be young again?  Only with the caveat that I know what I know now and have all the earthly goods that I posses today.  However, that is not possible so I face the reality that I am that dreaded OLD GAY MAN.  Notice, I didn't say "AN OLD QUEEN."  I'm not a "queen" thank you.  Maybe that's one of the reasons I don't have that many gay friends.  I don't "nellie it up" with other gay men.  Or as Bill and I call  it "fag it up."  I know "fag" is a grossly politically incorrect term these days but it is the only way I can accurately describe gay men who have that bad habit of acting like imitation women.  It's not a practice neither Bill or I engage in.  We were both born men and we will remain men until we die.

So I'm thinking "Why don't I feel bad about being an OLD MAN"?  My real feeling?  I feel pretty proud to have made it this far.  What I don't feel good about are my increased doctor's visits.  Yes, I'm visiting my dermatologist again tomorrow.  These visits are getting to be a regular occurrence for me.  It is what it is.  I feel like my body is just like an old car that has been well taken care of over the years.  Eventually "little things" start to "go."  As well as I take care of that car, parts will eventually have to be replaced.  And, eventually the car will stop.

When I was a young, smart assed kid of 21 I had all the answers.  Fifty years later, I realize that I DON'T have all the answers but you know what?  I feel pretty good that I've made it this far.  I feel good about myself too.  Probably just the way Bette felt about herself.

Nicknames

"Ron"  - 1962 - after the transformation from "Ronnie"

Ronald Walter Tipton

That's my name, don't wear it out.

Like many of you I have several nicknames that I have accumulated over the past three score and ten years (that's 70 for those of you who don't know the Gettysburg Address reference).

"Little Ronnie" - 1948

My given name these days is "Ron."  However, I wasn't always a "Ron."  In fact I gave myself that nickname after I joined the Army in 1960, when I was 18 years old.  Prior to me leaving home, I was always known as "Ronnie" (which I didn't like) or "Ronald" (usually called that by teachers and my Mother when I was in trouble.)

"Ronnie" - 1952

The first few months when I was in the Army I was known by my last name only "Tipton" as were almost all of my fellow trainees.  Oh yes, during the eight weeks of basic training my name was "F__cking Trainee" as were almost all of my fellow recruits. 

Transformation complete - now "Ron" - 1962

After basic training I was sent to Army Security Agency training school in Fort Devens, Massachusetts.  While there I continued to be known by one name "Tipton."  Then, as I began forming close friendships I was asked my my first name was.  I decided then and there to make a BIG CHANGE.  This was my opportunity to get rid of the hated "Ronnie" which to me always sounded like a girl's name (short for Veronica of "Archie" comic book fame).  Heretofore I was to be known as "RON". 

"Ron" at First Financial Bank - 2000

During my three years in the Army I met a lot of people, made many friends and when I left the service in January of 1963 I was probably known by more people as "RON" than "Ronnie."  However, once I returned home I was called "Ronnie." 

"Ron" - 1976

In the ensuing years friends from my Army days and subsequent civilian job years overlapped with my pre-Army days.  Each side was somewhat amused when I was called either "Ron" or "Ronnie." 

"Ronald" - 1959 - shortly before I joined the Army and before the change to "Ron"

Yesterday I attended my 53rd annual high school class reunion.  Most people referred to me as "Ronnie".  A few, who have known me over the years now call me "Ron."

"Ron" - 1968

Now for my other nicknames.  My two younger brothers have a special nickname for me that they have called me for years.  I don't know the origin of this nickname but I suspect that it contains a bit of tinge of sarcasm because I am the older, smarter, and better looking brother which I find I have to constantly remind them of this fact.  Are you ready?  Their preferred nickname for me is:  "Buck".  Yep, Buck.  And they always say it with a special emphasis on the last syllable "ck."  Uh huh.  They sort of spit it out if you knoow what I mean.  I always suspected there was an undercurrent of disrespect in their tone.  I don't think they quite bought into my first born superiority over them.

Brothers Isaac, John and "Buck" - July 25, 1956

I have some other nicknames out there that are unique to one person.  One long time friend usually calls me "Tipper" or "Tip."  That is a common nickname for us of the Tipton family.  Not much original there.  In fact, my brother calls his wife "Tipper" and she's not even a blood Tipton so go figure.

"Ron" - 1984

One of my co-workers at the Philadelphia bank where I worked in a previous life always called me "Handsome" and "Good-looking", which I didn't mind AT ALL.  I don't think he ever called me by my given name, first or last.  I really liked that guy.  He always made me smile.

Mellon Bank Days - 1982 "Handsome/Goodlooking" days (thank you)

Now for the pet names. The main one My Bill uses is "Pots."  Where does that come from?  Very simple.  He used to call me "Sweetie Pie" which evolved into "Sweetie Pots" and eventually he shortened over the years to "Pots."  Embarrassing isn't it?

"Ron" today (2012)

"The Older Gentleman"

Me with an "Older Gentleman" in a Toccoa, Georgia antique store last summer

Yesterday my boss called me with a question about a guest's reservation.  He said the guest said she made her reservation with "the older gentleman."  Um.....I think that would be be since the other front desk clerks are two women (Lisa and Monica) and Robert, who is 28 years old.  I...AM...THE...OLDER...GENTLEMAN.

Me (on the right in the green) with the other "Older Gentleman" who used to work at the hotel

Well folks, this is still taking some getting used to.  It wasn't so bad when Lisa's predecessor worked at the hotel.  His name was "Bob" also but he was actually a few years (four) younger than me but because he had the white hair, when a guest referred to "the older gentleman", we all knew they were probably referring to Bob.


However, Bob left the hotel a few years go so now I have assumed the mantle of "the older gentleman."  How do I feel about it.  Bemused actually.  At one time, when I was  younger, I guess I would have been put off by being referred to as "the older gentleman."

Right now I'm reading a book about a gay couple in Provincetown, Mass in the 1990's.  I was interested in this book because I vacationed often in Provincetown in the 70's and early 80's.  The time period of this book takes place in the early 90's, past my prime time.  For you see folks when you're gay like me, your expiration date runs out pretty fast.  Mine ran out when I was 37 years old.  That was in 1978.

I remember exactly when it ran out too.  I was standing in the 247 Bar in Philly one summer Saturday night.  Two a.m. rolled around and the bartender flashed the lights on and off three times and yelled out "last call!"  And as any self-respecting gay man knows, if you're still in a gay bar when they flash those lights and yell "last call!", you know your time is up.  As they say, stick a fork in him, he's done.

I remember clearly what I thought.  "What am I doing here?"  I thrill of meeting someone new had long since gone.  I was going to the bars on the weekend out of habit,  a habit of fifteen or so years.  I just remember I was so tired that night and all I wanted to do was go to bed....alone.  I couldn't be bothered with the whole rigmorale of taking someone home, going through the motions and getting them out.  Oh no, I was done with that.   Besides, I was never the one for the whole acrobatics of sex anyway.  I'm a romantic.  I always enjoyed just being with someone than I did hopping in the sack.  If I was a woman I guess I would be called frigid.  Whatever.

Anyway, I gave IT up that Saturday night on that hot summer night in July of 1978.  I stopped going to the bars.  Oh sure, over the years I've been to a few bars since then but only as an observer.  Sure, I still attracted some attention but as I said before (and B.B. King also said) "The thrill was gone."  


I find this book I'm reading about the trio of gay protagonists in Provincetown so fascinating.  The narrator is thirty years old.  He is bemoaning the fact that he is "so old."  He feels he cannot attract the younger guys any more.  He's afraid he will be like his first boyfriend who is "really old" at 37 years old!  Thirty-seven?  My God, that's a mere child.  Are you kidding me?

Oh how I remember when I was that age.  I thought the same thing too.  In fact, the first man I was intimate with was 29 years old to my 21 years.  I thought he was SO OLD.  Oh sure, I was terribly attracted to him but I did think HE WAS OLD.  Oh the folly of youth.  What was it that Noel Coward said?  "Youth is wasted on the young?"  So true, so true.

I remember when I was in my early twenties and I would see these OLD gay guys hanging out at the bar.  In fact some of them had their own bars which we (my young friends and I) called "wrinkle bars."  Ah ha. Guess what?  I'm there!  And another "guess what?"  I don't care.

I often wondered how those old gay guys could live with themselves, being SO OLD.  Now I know, IT JUST DOESN'T MATTER.  It really doesn't.

I've given a lot of thought to why I feel this way.  Maybe it is because of a loss of testosterone as I got older.  Maybe it is a realization there is more to life than jumping in the sack and doing the sexual acrobatics (which I rarely got full satisfaction from by the way).  Oh, don't misunderstand me.  Every now and then a really good-looking guy will check into the hotel and I have to catch my breath before I can speak to him.  All my bodily functions still work.  I still get stimulated.  A friendly smile and some attention from a handsome man still gets my blood rushing.  But as far as doing anything about it, well, that probably isn't going to happen.  But no great regrets though.  I had my time and I do enjoy looking.  I'm just glad I'm not like a longtime acquaintance of mine who still haunts the beach in Rehoboth for the anonymous  sex. God am I glad I'm not a pitiful figure like him.

So when I get these reference "I was talking to the older gentleman last night", I am always bemused.  Hey, I'm glad I made it this far.  I love life and appreciate every day I am on this earth.  In fact, I appreciate and get more out of life at now than I ever did when I was just another pretty face in the bar.

Back when I was another pretty face in the bars - 1967

Seventy Years of Ron

Yesterday was my 70th birthday.  Yes folks, I am officially and OLD MAN.  Funny thing that, I don't think like and Old Man.  In my mind I'm still that starry eyed and naive Twenty Something looking forward to what adventures in life await me.  And then every morning after I get up and look at myself in the bathroom mirror I think "Who is THAT?" looking at me from the other side of the mirror.  "WHAT HAPPENED?"

I got OLD, that's what happened.  Seriously though folks, I'm feeling good about making it this far in life.  I've had a good life and have few regrets.  Sounds like I"m going to break into a Frank Sinatra song doesn't it?  Yes, I am very happy with where I am in life.

I honestly didn't think I would make it this far in life.  I fully expected to be gone by the time I reached my 60th year on this planet.  Anything after that is gravy.  Yes folks, I'm living on gravy now!

Yesterday, I made this quickie movie with my iMovie on my wonderful iMac (thank you Steve Jobs!)  Nothing fancy, no intro or impressive graphics, just a random selection of photos of my throughout my life.
There are a couple of mistakes in the movie which I hope no one notices.  One is a duplicate photo and there are two or three crotch shots.  I tried to change those photos but the other photos worked out so with in synchronization with the remaining photos that I just left everything in.  Deal with it folks.  And yes, I have a couple of photos of me with some of my boyfriends.  I am gay, no reason to hide that at this time in my life.  I came out of the closet when I was 21 years old and never looked back and I'm not going to start now.

This is only the second time I made an iMovie.  The first one I made was for my Mother's funeral.  I will make copies of this DVD and send it to some of my friends.  If I don't get around to making a more polished DVD movie of My Life In Photos, please use this DVD at my memorial.

These days I'm thinking a lot about Getting My Life In Order for my not too soon departure.  Hey, I have to be realistic.  At seventy years old I don't have a lot of time left.  It has been a good life folks.  I hope to be around a lot longer but if that is not what fate hold in store for me, then I have absolutely no regrets.  This is one happy seventy year old.

Thank you to everybody who wished me a happy birthday yesterday.  I love you all!

Eye Bags

Two posts within an hour!  I think this is a new record for me.  Sometimes one has to post when the thought is fresh.

While checking my e-mails I saw this adorable picture of my blogger buddy Ur-Spo.  Isn't he just the cutest guy?  A guy with a face and body like that just screams to get hugged.  Unfortunately (for me) and fortunately (for him) he is a couple thousand miles away from me sweltering in the midsummer heat of Phoenix Arizona while I am here on the east coast of Delaware also sweltering in the midsummer heat.

A few months ago my blogger buddy tossed around the question of getting plastic surgery to remove the bags under his eyes.  He recently turned 49 years old and I guess he thought it was time for a "tune up."  I advised him to leave things just as they are.  He is one of those men who was born handsome and will be handsome his whole life, even as he ages.

I've had dark circles and bags under my eyes my whole life.  I remember being concern about them when I was fifteen years old.  I'm 69 years old now (how did that happen?) and those dark circles and bags are still there.  I wear glasses when I'm out and they help to hide the circles and bags.  However, lately I don't need my glasses at work and I am very self conscious about looking like one of those creepy, scary hosts of some cheap late night TV horror show.  I think maybe my concern is more in my head than in actuality.  I hope so.

I took this screen print a few minutes ago while trying to call my friend Larry on FaceTime.  I immediately noticed the similarity between both the pose (both of us in white T-shirts) and beard, and bags under the eyes. Perhaps the only thing missing is that I don't have a pink hat.

Man Boobs

Self-portrait this morning of my deteriorating body

Now that I have reinforced my policy of being unashamedly honest in my blog postings, I will now address one of the developments of my aging process.  

As regular readers of this blog know, I am 69 years old and frequently write about my view from this vantage point in my life.  Other than the expected aches and pains that come with getting older, I have no complaints about getting older.  A few months ago I read a friend's blog posting in which he expressed some concern over discovering his first wrinkle (yes, Mark, that's you I'm talking about).  I was amused over his concern.  Heck, I discovered my first wrinkles back in the 80's.  I wasn't bothered at all by that development.  I felt it gave my face more character.  Wrinkles never turned me off on anyone.

However, there is another development that I have recently discovered.  I think I'm getting man boobs!

Some years ago there was a very funny Seinfeld episode in which George's father had man boobs. I laughed along with everyone else who saw that Seinfeld episode.

Provincetown 1979 - before the Fall

All my adult life I've been proud that I've been able to maintain my weight at around 160 lbs.  I've always been lean.  However, I fear time and gravity has taken its toll.  I weigh the same but now I have the boobs that are turning floppy.  I have a spare tire.  I also have the makings of a pot belly.  The three parts of the man's body that is the first to go.  With women it is generally their thighs and butt. 

I guess I could up my exercise routine and do some kind of exercise to firm my boobs, waist and abdomen.  But then I think not.  I just get so tired anymore.  

However, I can take some comfort knowing I'm not alone.  Hey, checkout "AH-NOLD"!

Arnold Schwarzenegger - Before and After

The Last Day of Earth

As regular readers of my blog know, I'm not a religious person.  Or more accurately, I'm not a practicing religious person.  I don't believe in what I can "man made religion."  However, I do consider myself a spiritual person.  There are times in my life that I have secretly prayed to 'find the way."  Again, I am not a Bible Thumper and I don't subscribe to the mean spirited version of Christianity (and other religions) that are practiced today.  The religion of fear.  The God that says "Do as I say or I will damn you to the eternal fires of hell."

I don't believe there is a big, muscled, white man with a long white beard and a stern look on his face. wearing a white toga sitting on a golden throne in the sky playing games with those of he supposedly created below on this earth.  Such a game like having me born gay and then threatening me with eternal damnation unless I change my natural born ways.  No, that is not the God or Way that I believe.

This is what I believe.  I believe that you do your best during your stay on this earthy plane, be it only a few years or many years as I have done so far.  While risking another gentle rebuke from one of my favorite bloggers when I refer to my old age I am saying that at this time of my life (69 years and counting) I think a lot about my past years and what few years I have left on this earth (less than I have lived, that's for sure).

I have done some things I haven't been proud of and I have done more things that qualify me as a genuine Christian in my eyes if not the eyes of the organized "man-made" Christian church.  I feel that if there is such a place called heaven, that I will enter through those hallowed gates.  I will again see my friends, family and pets who have predeceased me.  These days I think a lot about this subject.

Today, after a long, hard day of work I opened my e-mails to find this e-mail from a long-time friend of mine.  While I don't agree with the degree to which my long-time friend practices his faith (he believes you have to accept Jesus Christ to enter into Heaven - I do not agree - I think that is the old "man made" interpretation), I do respect his views.

On this day, which an old idiot has claimed to be the Last Day On Earth (and he is an idiot, that is the only way to describe that nut case), I think it was very appropriate that I spent the best part of the day seeing a family (Jewish) prepare for a wedding at the hotel where I work.  All in this family were so happy.  Their joy was overflowing, so much that all my usual cynicism of such a corny family event was washed away.  I left the hotel this afternoon, an hour and a half before the actual ceremony thinking of this young, beautiful couple and the happy life that they have before them.  I thought of all their family and friends who  made the special trip to the hotel where I work to join their ceremony and celebration.

As I write this the couple is now married.  Their family is rejoicing.  All will celebrate through the night and tomorrow, which will be the first day of their new life.

While they're beginning their life, I can see mine coming to and end.  And I have no regrets. Thus it was so appropriate that when I opened my e-mail a few minutes ago and watched this video that reaffirmed the way I feel at this time of my life.

Thank you Bill.

My Aching Back

For the past several days my back has been killing me.  It's my lower back.  Yes folks, I have the most common ailment of modern man who walks upright, lower back pain.


I think this was brought on my hours of sitting at this computer knocking out my daily blog posting, researching my family tree, catching up on my e-mails, paying bills, and stopping for an occasional porn  interesting video pit stop.  Yes folks, I'm guilty of sitting on my kestrel for hours on end and is it any wonder that my back is absolutely killing me?


I rose from my chair too suddenly yesterday and I almost fell over backwards.  The pain was excruciating. It hurt so bad that I almost did the complete circle back to feeling good. The pain actually took my breath away.


Years ago I used to have this problem all the time with my desk job I had at the bank where I worked.  I sat almost all day.  One day I had to go upstairs quickly to put out a fire and I couldn't wait for the elevator so I rushed up the stairwell when I had a back spasm to intense that I almost fell down the stair backwards.  Talk about a wake up call.


That was enough to persuade me to go to the doctor, something I rarely did back in those day when I was young, vibrant, pretty (no smirking please) and invincible. 


I see the doctor. He examines me and asks me how old I was.  I think at that time I was 42 years old.  He said basically that I was getting old and this was to be expected because man was not meant to walk upright.  He said we were supposed to walk like chimpanzees with our knuckles dragging.  Well, I must admit I have walked like that on several occasions after a long night at my local gay bar hangout.  But I didn't think I walked like that at work .


He prescribed a medication called Naprosyn, an anti-inflammatory drug.   Well, it worked.  In fact it worked too good.  I remember those horse pills costs $1.00 each, which was fairly expensive back in the 80's for medication.  I took them for a few months and they did eliminate the pain but I began to worry about getting hooked on painkillers so I weaned myself off of them.  I like to be in control and I didn't feel right knowing something was going on with my back and I wasn't feeling it.


Over the years since then I've had occasional flareups but with all my walking I've kept those episodes to a minimum.  However, lately, with all the cold weather we've been having around here I been using those painfully cold winds blowing against my face as an excuse not to take my daily walk.  Now I'm paying the price.  I've also put on about eight pounds....around my waist.  I'm getting that "muffin" look around my waist.  


I think we all know what the answer is here don't we folks?  Get off of my behind and get walking.  


Tomorrow, I promise (if it's not too cold).  


P.S.
Yeah, that's my back in the picture (I wish)

Happy Birthday

Ron and Mom 1941

Sixty-nine years ago today, at 9:30 a.m. Sunday morning, I entered this world.


Quite frankly, I'm surprised I'm still here this planet.


I've been in three serious auto accidents (1950, 1960 and 1963).  I escaped serious injury each time.


In 1959, I almost died from the negligence of my family doctor after I contacted a staph infection from a hernia operation.


In 1960, during Army basic training I accidentally set off a hand grenade.  I only suffered minor injuries.


From 1963 to 1980 I was assaulted several times because I was identified as a gay man.  At least five times in center city Philadelphia, once in Provincetown, Massachusetts and once in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware.


I almost committed suicide in 1979.  I was in my car with the garage door closed and motor running.  I stopped when I realized how much my death would hurt my Mother.  As much pain as I was in at that time I could not put my Mother through the pain of a suicide of her first born.  I turned off the engine.


In 1980 I was almost choked to death by a homeless man.


All near brushes with death.


I survived.


I will be here for a little longer.


I'm happy that I am still here.


This is the best time of my life.


I'm older.  I'm not as pretty as I used to be.


I have more aches and pains.


I've lost many of my friends and family.


But I am still here.


I am very fortunate to have had the life I have lived.


The only sad thing about today is that this is the first time in my life my Mother will not wish me a happy birthday.


Earlier this week my brother John and his wife sent me a birthday card.


The card said:

"There's a corner of your heart reserved for someone special - the person you're so proud to call your brother."

There's a closeness that we share.

We don't discuss it,

 but it's there.

On your birthday,

hope you know

how much you mean,

how much I care.

Happy Birthday

"I know how much you miss Mom so I wanted to send you a card for her and us

John and Barb"

The Bearded One

July 9, 2010 - with the beard

The beard is back!

A week ago I took the advice of a friend of mine and shaved off my beard.  My beard is almost all white.  Everyone was telling me I looked like an old man with the white beard.  Well, uh.....I am an old man.  I will be 69 years old this November.  There is no getting around that fact.  But, if I can shave a few years off of my visage why not.  What's good enough for Joan Rivers is certainly good enough for me.

So I shaved it off.  I didn't like what was hidden beneath my beard for the past thirty or so years.  There was an OLD MAN with jowls (JOWLS!) beneath that beard.  Oh no, this would do at all.

June 28, 2010 - without the beard

No I was a pale faced white OLD MAN.  I noticed that people didn't seem to pay as much attention to me. I don't know if this was my imagination for what was really happening.  I suspect it was a little bit of both.

So I decided to grow it back.  It doesn't take me long to grow a beard.  I can get a good growth in seven to ten days.  The only thing is that my beard comes in almost all white.  I can count the dark brown whiskers. There just aren't that many folks.  My mustache is still dark brown with a few white hairs but the beard on my chin?  All white baby.  ALL WHITE.

No, this wouldn't do at all.  Plus, I am getting hounded daily by my partner to grow my beard back and color it.  He says my beard takes years off of my face.  Plus, my dark beard brings out the blue in my eyes in addition to framing my narrow face.   Without a beard or a white beard, my face seems to fade in the background.

Yesterday I noticed that I had enough stubble to color it.  I got out my Just For Men and applied the medium dark brown (Just For Men is very good with the subtle shades) and applied it to my newly grown beard.  Viola!  The Old Ron (or Young Ron) is back!

Sure, I have more wrinkles (living baby, living) and less hair that I did 20 or 30 years ago but I still have the same panache with my dark beard now that I had back in my heyday.

So I go into work last night at the hotel with my new beard.  My new look was immediately noticed by my boss and co-workers.  He asked me if I colored my beard.  I told him that I "grew a new one."  He said "Uh huh.  It looks like you used Just For Men."  He had me.  My boss is only 30 years old and he has a reddish brown beard with nary a gray hair.  Just wait until his beard turns and it will.

I checked in my first guests.  I noticed that they took more notice of me unlike the guests I checked in the night before.  Those guests hardly paid attention to me.  that was because with my white stubble of a beard I was fading in the background.  Not now, I was out there with my restored Dark and Mysterious Look.  It felt good.

My surprised "Miss Richmond 1980" look (it's an inside joke) 

The beard stays.  That reminds me, I have to pick up some more Just For Men the next time I go to Walmart.

Cleaning Out Mom's Bedroom

One of the reasons I left for my Mom's home in Pennsylvania last Thursday was to house sit for my brother Isaac while he and his son (Isaac, III) visited our Mom in Greenville, SC.  She's staying with my youngest brother John and his wife Barbara.  The other reason was to help clean her house of the accumulated clutter of 52 years.  My Mom is a hoarder.

We three brothers convinced her to spend the winter at John's home in the South because we didn't think she would make it through another winter.  In retrospect, we made a very wise decision. 

We promised her that she could return to her home of 52 years come this spring, if only for a visit.  Unfortunately, she is too weak to make the trip to Pennsylvania.  So we decided to clean her house out now since it is very unlikely she will return to her home. 

Brother John was up earlier in the month.  He and Isaac cleaned out her bedroom and Pop's bedroom.  They boxed up a lot of her things and marked the boxes as to the disposition when the inevitable happens.

John took one look at the "back bedroom" (as my Mother called it) and closed the door.  He just wasn't gong to tackle that room.  This is the same room that John and Isaac shared when they were going to school.  Now you can hardly get the door open because there is so much clutter.

I would provide a picture but I'm at my Mom's computer and it doesn't have the software for me to download the pictures.  However, I did take some video with my Flip video camera which I am able to take snapshots of individual frames.  Those are the pictures in this blog.

John told me he left that room for me.  Thank you brother John!

I started to clean that room out Thursday.  I hardly made a dent.  I still couldn't see the floor.

Yesterday I was determined to see the color of the carpet in that room.  After a big push, I cleared out enough to see that it is green.  I was exhausted last night.  I slept like I was dead.

I rose from the dead early this morning thinking about cleaning out that room.  I generally sleep well so you know it's a problem if I'm lying in bed thinking about cleaning out "the back room."

I attacked that room with all my strength today.  I finally made signification headway.  So much so that I could see most of the rug.

 I loaded up the back of my Subaru with several boxes of donations for the Goodwill store in Morgantown, PA.  It was late this Saturday afternoon and I was afraid they would be closed by the time I got there. 

When I rolled into their parking lot I saw that they were not closed and in fact an employee was rolling out two empty donation bins.  What a welcome sight.

I quickly unloaded the back of my car and loaded Mom's "stuff", including the last afghan she was working on (unfinished) into the donation bin.  The Goodwill employee asked me if I wanted a receipt.  I did not. 

A heaving burden has been lifted from my shoulders.  There is still much work to do. 

We've boxed up all of Mom's clothes.  I sent her a large box down by mail this morning.  The woman at the Post Office asked me how I wanted the box delivered.  Overnight would cost $130.00.  $130.00?  Not likely.  She told me that three day delivery would cost $49.00.  Nup.  Not likely either.  I settled for Parcel Post which cost me $19.00.  Mom's fake fur coat is in there along with several of her favorite warm and snuggy nightgowns which I know she misses.  I threw in a couple of her small teddy bears to go along for the ride. 

Cleaning out Mom's bedroom today caused me to think this very obvious question:  who is going to clean out my bedroom when that time comes for me? 

An interesting thought because I have no children, Bill is thirteen years older than me and I assumed he will check out before I will.  I have one nephew and four nieces and several grand nephews and grand nieces.  I don't see any of them cleaning out my "stuff." 

But hey, I'm not going to worry about it now.  I have a family reunion to put on May 16th.

Mom and Ike

This morning I had a long talk with my brother Isaac, who lives with and care for our Mom at our old family homestead in Pennsylvania. I haven’t been able to get in touch with them for a few weeks. We discovered the problem was that the phone was out.

Mom is 85 years old now. She has been in declining health ever since our father died August 22, 2000. They were married 61 years. Each one was the half of the other. Much of her problem seems to be depression. She also has a balance problem and is on a number of medications. Both of her sisters (one of which is now deceased) developed dementia. I’m afraid the signs are now showing Mom is also developing dementia.

I have two younger brothers. I live in Delaware, and my youngest brother lives in South Carolina. My Mom lives with my middle brother in Pennsylvania. We would prefer for her to move to my brother’s place in South Carolina where she can receive more professional care but she prefers to stay where she has lived for the past 61 years. I understand her need to be in her comfort zone. We will try to accommodate her as long as we can. She has her cats (Molly and Rusty) and her favorite bed set up in her living room. When she's not sleeping, she likes to watch “The Price is Right” and the Fox News channel. This is her routine and it gives her comfort.

Both my younger brother and I are worried about the burden that is being placed on our brother Ike. He has his own medical problems that he has to monitor. I’ve talked to him and he says he is managing. He loves our Mom and takes excellent care of her. Ike has the patience of a saint but there is always a limit before one becomes overwhelmed.

We’re facing a dilemma that our Mom needs to move into a more controlled environment but we also want to respect her wishes to live at her home. Ironically one of the things our Mom was most concerned about was being a burden when she became older.

After talking to Ike, I called my other brother in South Carolina. We also discussed Mom’s situation and we agreed to take it one day at a time. That’s all we can do now. I guess we always knew this day would come.

Note: Picture is of Mom and Ike circa 1954

Is My Sun Setting?

January 3, 2008 I entered the Beebe Medical Center with an unbearable pain in my right side. Later it was discovered I was passing a kidney stone. Believe me, if you haven't passed a kidney stone, this is something you don't want to do. If our official government torturers knew how to replicate this pain, there would be no need for waterboarding suspected terrorists. During that emergency stay, I had an MRI scan performed on my body. It wasn't until a few nights ago that I read the full report. What I read confirmed what I suspected for a long time, I'm getting old! I am literally starting to fall apart. My 1998 Subaru Forester has over 105,000 miles on it, I expect it to start falling apart. In that case I can get a new car. Not so with my body. This is my one and only body. I think I've taken pretty good care of it in my lifetime but I am 66 years old. I'm afraid the wear and tear of the past 66 years is beginning to show. The MRA report says "there are multiple calculi in both kidneys." That means I still have kidney stones. Oh God! Not again. This is a result of my lifelong habit of not drinking enough water. I've tried to drink more water since I found this out but I fear I'm still not drinking enough. Even so, that won't help clear up the "calculi" that is now in both kidneys. My doctor tells me they will pass one way or another. Either in small granules or, heaven forbid, kidney stones. The report also says "there are calcifications in the liver and spleen suggesting granulomata". I don't know exactly what that means but it doesn't sound good. The next item is the kicker. It says "there is atherosclerosis of the aorta." That's hardening of the arteries! Proof positive that I'm an Old Dude. There are other notifications that don't make me feel good, the main one being that I have a slight case of emphysema. This from my years of smoking cigarettes. I stopped smoking my one pack a day of Marlboros on July 27, 1967. I had smoked for approximately 6 years. Apparently the damage was done. Several years ago I had a chest X-ray. My doctor at that time asked if I smoked cigarettes. I told her "Yes, but I stopped years ago." She told me that the chest X-ray indicated that I had scar tissue on my lungs which indicated that I had smoked cigarettes. One of the reasons I stopped smoking was that I got out of breath climbing the two flights of stairs to the floor where I worked at a bank in center city Philadelphia. I figured that if I was out of breath in my 20's, what would I be like if I continued to smoke. Probably dead by now. Last week I had the results semi-annual blood test at the VA outpatient clinic in Georgetown. It indicated that I was doing well in all areas, especially my cholesterol count. The doctor indicated that was as much due to my genetic heritage as to my diet. Thank goodness for that. Blood pressure was also fine. However, I did indicate to him that I probably needed another eye exam because I'm having trouble focusing on distant objects. He examined my eyes and told me I had some large "floaters." I asked him what was that. He said "all a part of aging." Uh uh. Another reminder that I'm getting old and beginning to fall apart. I look in the mirror every morning when I shave. I don't have a choice. I have to look or take the chance of cutting my throat. Who I see in the mirror isn't the same person I picture in my mind. I think to myself "Who is that old geezer looking at me in the mirror? Did I sleep with HIM last night?" Oh well, the MRI report also said "there are serpiginous vascular structures int he abdomen suggesting varices." I'm not even going to look that one up. I figure I have enough on my plate now. One thing is painfully obvious, a Michael Phelps I am not.