My Blog Is NO LONGER MONETIZED!

 Well, that was quick! 

Take note: 

MY BLOG IS NO LONGER MONETIZED!

A few minutes ago I decided to click on the:

CLICK HERE message at the top of my blog just to see where it would take me. 

Much to my surprise a pop up came and said my computer was INFECTED and I had to call this number (one indicated) right away! 

Yes Virginia, I was about to be rerouted to Mumbai India and get scammed.

The bastards are at it again!

I quickly exited my computer.

Turned it off.

Called Apple Help line, just to make sure it is a scam (it was, I was told) and then to clear my History, which I did.

I also ran my Malware program and all came out well.

Then I went into my blog and removed AdSense, the monetizing program provided by Google.

And here I am back at Square One.

I should have known better. You don't get anything in this world for free. Especially in today's Internet free for all environment. 

I am really disappointed in Google, that their AdSense program lets scammers in. Of course there is no Google help line. 

Actually, this is all ending well. I didn't like all those ads, especially the pop up ones, corrupting my blog.

So to the followers of my blog I am happy to tell you that I'm back to where I began twenty years ago (2005).

My personal blog with the great title of "Retired In Delaware" (you just know some companies want that title) is back to where you have known it for the last twenty years or however many years you have been following it. 

My apologies to anyone who accidentally hit one of those "Click Here" baits and got the scam message their computer was infected. Really, my sincere apologies! What an awful thing! Shame on Google for not preventing that with their AdSense program. 

My Blog Is Now Monetized!

Me mowing my lawn July 7, 2008. I have since progressed to a riding tractor to mow my almost one acre of lawn. I have no photos of that.....yet.

By now my regular blog followers have noticed that my blog is now monetized. Yes, ads are on my blog!

Me, one who hates ads has succumbed to the almighty dollar. 

Well, one thing I have to say is that Google (the company behind Blogger.com) has done a nice job of placing the ads. Also, the ads are appropriate for my blog, the senior citizen that I am. Good job Blogger!

Now, how much money am I making? Would you be surprised to know that I'm not going to buy that condo in Palm Springs anytime soon? It took me three days to earn $1.07! At this rate I'll be long into my next life before I earn any signifiant money. Oh well, I was always curious how many people read my blog. Now I have an idea. I'm just one grain of sand on the world wide beach of bloggers. 

As the logo says to the right of this post:

"Life Is A Long Lesson In Humility"

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lawn to mow. I save sixty dollars every time I mow my own lawn*.  

*I can't mow my lawn in very hot and humid weather. I pay my local landscaper Jose Sierra $60 to mow my lawn, which I have mowed once a week. This summer has been particularly brutal with the hot and humid weather. Today the temperature is 72 degrees F and although the humidity is still high (97%) I can manage to mow my lawn myself. I have a very cool John Deere zero degree turning riding mower. An added bonus is I really look butch when I mow my lawn. Always a plus!

Reality Bites

 

Whoops! Looks like I got ahead of myself yesterday with the "new part-time job" thing. I've hit a major snag. More like a  reality bites thing. I should have known better. 

Oh I know I'm doing a lot of teasing here but frankly I'm embarrassed. I think I fooled myself that I could make money off of my blog. Yes, this blog. Yes, this guy who hates ads on blogs. I was going to go that way. Just to earn a little extra cash to replenish the coffers here at Casa Tipton-Kelly where I'm no longer working the hotel and Bill's modest Social Security benefits are no longer contributing to the upkeep of Casa Tipton-Kelly. Oh, I can keep things going with my fixed income but prices, as you know, keep going up. That's why I was considering swallowing my pride and consenting to having AdSense by Google display the occasional advertisement on my blog. 

I was well on my way to setting things up yesterday but then ran into two major roadblocks.

For one, I just don't get that many "hits" or Views on my blog even though I've been blogging for twenty years now. But as I've often said, I've been blogging for myself, not necessarily for "hits", or fame and fortune. Blogging for me is my form of therapy. Some pay to go to a therapist. That's not for me though, to pay someone to listen to me. Works for others I understand but not for me. If I have to pay for someone to listen to my woeful life story. My inhibitions and hangups, as I said not for me. 

The second problem is that Google hasn't approved my blog for its AdSense ads. Probably because of the low number of page views my blog generates. 

I did a more research (on Gemini, Google's AI assistant) and discovered that with the number of hits my blog receives that I maybe could generate (ready for this), maybe a dollar a month. Oh my, the hurt pride! So I'm not quite the big deal I thought I was. 

So here I am, back at Square One, resuming my place among the Great Unwashed. Reality bites.

New Job? Part One.

 

Me at my job at First Financial Bank December 15, 2004, twenty-one years ago!

For several months I've been reviewing my options to get a new part-time job. 

There are two main reasons I have embarked on this endeavor. 

1) I could use the additional income.

2) Working, even part-time, gives my life structure and meaning.

Note: This is the first blog post of my new direction in what is left of my life for earning a little extra cash. I've had a paying job since I was ten years old until four years ago when I had to leave my hotel job to take care of Bill after his strokes.

Ever since I was ten years old and asked my Mother when she was going to give me an allowance of twenty-five cents a week like many of my other third grade classmates, I've been working. Her response to my request was "You're getting a job to earn your money." 

Me, ten years old. When I first began my newspaper boy job 1951. I remember that cowboy shirt. I loved it! I was a cute kid wasn't I? I didn't think so then. Constantly berated by my father I thought I was a goof without any hope. I appreciated those times I spent on my paper route, only with my thoughts and nature blowing in my face in all kinds of weather, away from his constant criticism. His name for me was "Beak" because of my big nose which in retrospect isn't all that big at all but I thought it was then because he always called me that. At least he didn't call me "sissy boy" which is what I was then. Thank God for that! I was a painfully shy kid with a fondness for comic books, paper dolls, candy and Saturday afternoon movie matinees.

I've never forgotten that conversation. At the time I was greatly disappointed. "What job?" I wondered. She said "You're going to be a paperboy." Well, I had mixed emotions this development but being a good, obedient little boy I became a paperboy. 

For the next five years I delivered about sixty-five newspapers seven days a week after school in the eastern half of Downingtown, Pennsylvania.

My paper route was the eastern half of Downingtown, PA. "My territory."

I delivered my newspapers in all kinds of weather. The cold days of winter, the hot and steamy days of summer, in the rain and snow. I had my little black book ring notebook of the customers individual pages which I would check off with an "X" every time I delivered them a newspaper. 

I delivered the Philadelphia Bulletin, The West Chester Daily Local News, and the Coatesville record. The Philadelphia Bulletin was the majority of my newspapers and the heaviest, especially on Tuesdays when all the ads were in the paper and the Sunday newspapers. The Sunday deliveries were especially brutal because of the thickness of theSunday edition. The other two were local newspapers, thin and no Sunday deliveries.

The daily newspapers cost five cents and the Sunday papers cost twenty-five cents. 

Every Saturday I would knock on my customers's doors to collect for the week. Those that didn't get the Sunday edition paid thirty cents. Those that did get the Sunday edition I collected an extra twenty-five cents for a total of fifty-five cents. The local newspapers also cost five cents which was an additional charge. 

I would collect the money on Saturdays and the following Tuesday Mrs. Linderman, the "Paper Lady",

My Mother (to the left), Mrs Linderman (fat ass) and my younger brother Isaac. Mrs. Linderman is bending over to scoop up all the change I had spread out on the table. You see the extra newspaper on the kitchen chair to the left. I took this picture in 1954 when I got my first camera, a Kodak Brownie. Unfortunately I don't have too many historical pictures likes this because I was too shy to take pictures of people. Most of my pictures are of scenery, which is useless today. You can only have so any pictures of trees. I didn't even think to take pictures of streets and houses and other buildings. I wish I was more aware during my Foolish Youth but I did manage to capture some historic moments like this. The weekly Tuesday night visit at our second floor apartment by Mrs. Linderman was always a big event. "Would I have enough money for Mrs. Linderman?"

would come by our apartment (I never lived in a stand alone house until my final summer in high school, we always lived in second floor apartments), to collect her money plus any left over newspaper which she had recycled at the Downingtown Paper Company (Downingtown, my hometown used to be called "Papertown" because it had so many paper mills). Whatever money was left over from my collections was mine. This usually amounted to about five dollars which was a LOT more than a twenty-five cent allowance. Now remember this was in the Fifties (1951 to 1956) when that amount of money was somewhat substantial for this pre-teen goof ball. I had enough money to collect a huge comic book collection. More about the comic books in a future blog posting.

I remember so well my Mother and I and sometimes my brother Isaac would help sort out all the nickles, dimes and quarters that was my take from the Saturday collections. We would sort the change out on the kitchen table into denomination piles. This was a regular Tuesday ritual. 

An aside here, oh how I wish I had more pictures of that time but this was before I had my first camera. I have a few pictures, which I will post on this posting but the images of those days will remain in my memory for the rest of my life.

But back to my narrative:

Mrs. Lindermann would come by about seven or eight o'clock in the evening to collect her money and unused newspapers. She also had other rounds to collect from other paper boys, my territory was eastern Downingtown.  

Me, on the steps to our second floor apartment at Boot Road. I was a hardened paper boy this time at thirteen years old, a long way from that innocent looking ten year old third grader. I was in seventh grade by now. This picture was taken on a hot summer Sunday as I was preparing to make two trips delivering the Sunday papers to the eastern half of Downingtown.

My bicycle for delivering those newspaper. That was one tough bike Never let me down. To brake you pedaled backwards. I don't know where my canvas paper bag was in this picture. This is the only picture I ever took of this bike, which I'm glad I have. I have only one other picture of me on this bike and that was one my other younger brother took of me during one of our Sunday rides out in the country. A "country" now that is all developments. What a time to grow up in the Fifties! By the way, I never once fell off this bike, not once. However, one time I did land on my balls when I jumped too fast on my bike.

Most time I had enough money but sometimes I came up short. The reason I came up short was that I had already spent too much money on comic books and candy. Yes, that's how I spent my five dollars or so. One would think I would have saved my money and brought a car. Yeah, right. Believe me folks, I wasn't thinking of saving my money at that age. My life was all about comic books which I read voraciously and penny candy, which I also at all the time which is unusual now because I never eat candy. And I mean never. I also had other expenses like a fifty cent haircut (this week I have a haircut appointment which will cost me thirty dollars); twenty cents to go to the weekly Saturday afternoon matinee at the Roosevelt theater with all my buddies, and the occasional visit to the local five and dime store (Newberry's) to buy those fifteen cent balsa airplanes (which I so loved to play with) and paper doll books. Oh yes, I also loved paper dolls. Had all the books but that's subject for another blog. 

Those times I came up short, my Mother would kick in the extra money, which rarely exceeded a few dollars at the most, but told me that was a loan and to be repaid back to her the next week which I always did. Once in a great while I had EXTRA money, which was always a treat and which I always spent the next day on more comic books like Donald Duck and Katy Keen and yes, even Little LuLu. And of course my paper doll books. I only got the ones with the movie stars of the Fifties. I thought I was going to grow up and be a fashion designer. That's why I like to cut out the dresses and place different ones on the movie star cut outs. Oh how I LOVED those books. June Allyson was one of my favorites.

Yes, I was a paperboy for five years. I quit when I entered the ninth grade because I thought I was too big to continue riding a bicycle. Can you believe it? Remember this was the Fifties and adults, unless you were one of those adult town weirdos, didn't ride bicycles. The only adults you saw riding bicycles were newsreels of adult Europeans riding bicycles en mass because they couldn't afford cars. And of course the occasional professional bicycle riders but I'm not even sure they existed back then in the Fifties. But I did quit my paperboy job because I thought I was too old to be a paperboy and especially riding a bicycle around town. I didn't want to be the next Town Weirdo. 

By the time I quite my newspaper boy job I did have other part-time jobs. I cleaned the offices that were on the first floor of Gindy Manufacturing Company. We lived rent free on the second floor of that building, which, sad to say has since been torn down. 

Our second floor apartment on Boot Road, Downingtown, PA 1955. The Gindy offices were on the first floor, the Gindy Trailer Manufacturing plant where my father worked was to the left (you can see partial of the building.) My Mother is looking at me from the porch along with her canary in a cage (his name was "Harvey"). My Mother used to clean the offices below at .45 cents an hour.When they built a new Pepperridge Farms Frozen Foods division plant up the road, she got a job there and I inherited her office cleaning job at .55 cents an hour. She was furious when she found out that I, at thirteen years old, was paid ten cents more an hour than she was. She was told "Because Ronnie is a man." HA! Remember, this was the Fifties. Of course she did a much better job than I did as a thirteen year old kid. In fact she often helped me to clean those offices. Especially when it came time to scrap the old wax off the floors.

I also worked weekends at the Downingtown Farmer's Market at the Brill Brother's Meat Market. That's another whole story I'll talk about in a future blog post. 

But back to my newspaper boy job, that was one of the best decision my Mother ever made for me.

My newspaper boy job taught me responsibility. That job not only provided me with money to spend but gave me independence. I was dependent on others for money. And something else my newspaper boy gave me which was invaluable, an insight into other peoples' lives. Often my customers would invited me into their house while they went to collect their money. This way I got to see how other people lives which I found fascinating. These revelations were actually mind opening for me. Not everyone lived in the chaos I lived in. I only had one customer who was poorer than my family. She was the only one who rarely paid me. When it came time to collect from her she didn't answer the door. I felt sorry for her and continue to deliver the newspaper to her for a while but I had to quite after a while because not getting my thirty cents from her was digging into my profit. Yes, I learned about how capitalism worked. I also learned the value of service. I was also tipped quite handsomely from most of my customers, usually an extra five cents. Christmas time was a bonanza! I would get five dollars from many of my customers. Oh those days! Of course I spent all of that Christmas bonanza too. Spending money is one skill that comes naturally to me folks. By the way, one reason I got a lot of tips was because of the way I delivered the newspapers. I need folded them and threw them at the houses. NEVER! I know the movies always show that but first of all it always seemed to me it was a lot more trouble to fold the newspaper up (the time it took) and then try and fit them all in my Philadelphia Evening Bulletin canvas paper bag, then maneuver riding by balancing my bike with one arm and the other arm to throw the news paper at the house. Just didn't make sense to me plus, to me, it seemed so rude because then my customer would have to come out and look for her newspaper (almost always my customers were women) some where in the wet bushes or around the door or path to her door. I had this radical idea to park my bike at the end of the street, get off my bike and gather the UNFOLDED newspapers under my arm and either put their daily newspaper either under their mat in front of their door or inside their storm door if they had one. I did this the first day of my paper route after almost falling off my bike trying to throw the newspaper at the house. What's the theory behind that way of "delivering" a newspaper anyway, to do it faster? Heck, I was just a kid. I didn't have anything else to do so I had the time besides it didn't take that long anyway. Oh the outpouring to thanks I received when I started delivering my newspapers to my customers that way. I spoiled them for five years. My replacement, who was my longtime friend (now deceased) continued my tradition. So folks, all that myth you see in the movies about the newspaper boys throwing the paper at the houses, that's just what it is. A movie generated myth. I guess my way of delivering newspaper wasn't sexy. I'm glad I knew at  early point in my life what was right and what was BS. Thanks Mom, that's a gene I inherited from her. Best Mom In The World!

Me with my Mom and my two younger brothers. I think this was about the time I started my paperboy job. Yes, I was my Mom's fav. Get over it. My youngest brother ("Baby John") was my father's favorite and poor Isaac, he suffered the "Middle Child Syndrome. He's major fucked up to this day. He's totally into the MAGA cult. We haven't talked in about three years now. I hung up on him during our last phone call when he screamed at me that George Floyd "killed himself." There's no dealing with stupidity. He's lost. He literally lived in our Mom's basement playing video games for ten years after his divorce. He still lives there. Oddly enough, he still keeps my picture in my old bedroom. Interesting. Maybe some day we'll have a reconciliation but I doubt it.

To sum up and bring this posting to a close, which was much longer than I thought I intended. I started this post to tell you all about my impending prospect for a new part-time job, which I hope to hear about this week. But as usual one I start going down Memory Lane, all those old memories are revealed again. And you know me, I love to share my memories. 

Me and my Mom, Best Mom In The World! July 4, 2021

I've said it many times before in this blog and I'll say it again. I've had a fantastic life. At time I may have doubted it but from my perspective now of eighty-three years on this planet I can see where I have been truly blessed. 

Me and my Mom May 2003

Me and my Mom May 2008

Now, to let you all get on with your day I big you adieu and start my daily routine which is finishing my New York Times games (Wordle, Connections and Strands) before I head out to Pepper's Greenhouse to get some more colorful flowers to plant around my now naked transformer. Bill would like that. He loved the many colors of flowers. By the way, he came by last night via that burned out Christmas light. He's with me every day folks.

Have a great day!

My Mom was great but she wasn't a hugger. She lost her Mom before she was two years old and always told me she didn't know how to hug because she was never hugged as a child. So I hugged her!

World of Mine Wednesdays' Ws

 

Good morning folks! 

I'm starting a new feature in my blog, called "World of mine Wednesdays' Ws. I stole this idea (meme) from my longtime dear friend Spo of Spo-Reflections. Spo has been blogging also for twenty years (we both started blogging in 2005). 

The reason I'm starting this new feature in my blog is that I haven't been blogging lately. I think this new feature will force me to blog at least once a week. I like to blog but I've changed over the years. I'm more careful with what I blog because I don't want to embarrass or offend people, especially people I know personally, who read my blog. The lone exception is when I go on an anti-Trump tirade. But I'm even cutting back on those tirades because frankly Trump and his drama has exhausted me. But before I go on that track here is my new weekly update feature called:

"Word of Mine Wednesdays' W

What's top of my mind: 

The Big Beautiful Bill that Trump (here I go) has successfully bullied Congressional Republicans into passing. I am sick to my stomach that Congressional Republicans are so selfish and cowardly that they let themselves be bullied (are you listening Senator Lisa Murkowski?) into passing a bill that will take health care away from millions of U.S. citizens and give even more (like they need it) tax breaks to the richest one percent of Americans and resulting into putting the USA into debt far into the future. If you're looking for heroes that only in the movies and Senator John McCain, and he's dead. Don't look for any heroes in the real world we live in today.

Where I've been: 

The Restore Thrift Store. I go at least once a week, sometimes more. Not that I need anything but I never know what treasures await me at this Habitat For Humanity Thrift store which raises millions of dollars for building homes for those less advantaged that the rest of  us. Here in southern coastal Delaware with a large Old Man Gay population, there are all kinds of treasures that end up at the Restore Thrift Store. I've purchased many of those treasures and placed them at strategic locations here at Casa Tipton-Kelly. Mirrors! Just ask my friends Pat and Glenn how many mirrors I have. Fabulous mirrors. Paintings, I have so many, to many for my available wall space but I have them so there. I've often told the folks at the Restore Thrift Store that all the purchases I've walked out of that fabulous place will eventually end up there.

Where I'm going: 

No where

What I'm watching: 

You Tube reaction videos to Righteous Brothers (Bobby Hatfield) 1965 version of "Unchained Melody."   I've seen about eighty reaction videos so far. Bobby Hatfield's live version (from the "Andy Williams Show") is the best and most perfect version of "Unchained Melody." I love the reactions, most from people who weren't even born when Bobby Hatfield sang this song. Every one loved it, even the hard core rappers. They're all surprised that his version wasn't auto-tuned or had all the background junk that is in modern versions. Every time I hear his version of "Unchained Melody" I choke and tear up. I have requested his version be played at my memorial service, if there is one.

What I'm listening to:

Pandora radio, Thumb channel. When Bill was alive I didn't play the radio, the music annoyed him. Now to keep myself company that I live alone, I play this channel. It has a nice mix. Big band music, Dixieland music, Beats, and Percy Faith and Jackie Gleason. Listening to this music is so relaxing and comforting to me at this time of my life.

What I'm reading:

"Original Sin" by Jake Tapper. This is a book exposing the coverup of former president Joe Biden's cognitive decline. Shameful!

What I'm eating:

My homemade beef and cheese burritos. I love wraps and burritos. I make a batch of these and freeze them for future easy to prepare meals. I complement them with a Three Bean Salad. I eat simple these days. I wrap them in tin foil and heat them up in my air fryer. 

Who needs a good slap:

Five slaps to all the Republicans in Congress who voted YES on Trump's Big Beautiful Bill. They know this will result in the loss of health insurance for millions of our fellow Americans but they are more afraid of Trump's retribution than adhering to their oath to the Constitution to represent their voters. They are all selfish cowards. They are reprehensible and deserve all the disgrace that they will go down in history as cowards. The only heroes in our world these days are the make believe ones in movies. In real life, not so much, especially in Congress and the Supreme Court. Shame on them all!

Who gets a fist bump:

Those few politicians who have a backbone and stand up to Trump like former Representative Adam Kinzinger. God bless them. They are the truly courageous among us. Sad to say there are few of them. 

What I'm planning:

My marriage to Pat. 

I just got off FaceTime with him as he set up his interview with the American Consulate in Montreal. Once he passes this interview, we have ninety days to get married. He will make the trip down here to Delaware and we'll get married at the County Seat in Georgetown. The same place that Bill and I got married on July 3rd, 2013. That was the happiest day in my life. This will be right up there as another happiest day in my life. Pat is my dream come true. I still have to pinch myself how fortunate I am to have Pat in my life. I love everything about him. His personality, his looks (to me he's sexy as hell) and his goodness. Pat brings out the best in me. He fulfills my life. He gives me a reason for being. And he always Makes Me Smile. Always.

What's making me smile:

My backyard with my fishpond. My little slice of Heaven right here in southern coastal Delaware. I worked long and hard to create this almost one acre of paradise. All my life this was my goal. Bill loved our backyard too. My only regret is that he is not here to share it with me. 

A Message For Those Who Leave Negative Comments On My Blog

Me at Arnell Creek, Rehoboth Bay canal, 2005, the first year I started to blog

Twenty years ago I started blogging.

There are several reasons I blog, but mainly I like to write and interact with the world outside my geographical circle. 

When I was a teenager I used to have pen pals. At one time I had over sixty pen pals. I enjoyed writing letters and I enjoyed receiving letters. 

Along the way during my blogging an my pen pals days there were those times my innocent enjoyment was pissed on (occasionally). At those times I thought "What is wrong with those people?" These were occasions where those people, with their superior attitude felt the need to denigrate me. Again, why does it bother these people what I do?

I'll always remember my great aunt Grace (my Mother's aunt)  who said "Why does Ronnie have pen pals? Doesn't he have any friends?" She said that to my Mother in my thirteen year old presence. I've never forgotten that insult and that she, in all her superiority, was so classless to say that insult to me in my presence.

During my twenty years of blogging I've had my share of trolls who felt the need to insult me on a regular basis my leaving nasty and hurtful comments on my blog. I delete them. Eventually they go away when they see their insulting comments aren't being published on my blog.

The past several years the trolls haven't left comments on my blog but one just came back. I was caught off guard this time and I accidentally published their comments until I realized they were probably trying to sell me on a reverse mortgage.  I didn't realize they were trying to sell me on a reverse mortgage until they just left me a nasty and insulting comment on my blog posting saying I was "cutting my nose off to spite my face" by not getting a reverse mortgage and then took the time to explain how a reverse mortgage works. Okay "Roderick" (or whoever you are), no need to explain to me how a reverse mortgage works. I KNOW HOW A REVERSE MORTGAGE WORKS! I also know that the person who sells me a reverse mortgage gets a BIG COMMISSION UP FRONT on a reverse mortgage. 

I deleted that conversation "Roderick." Don't leave any more comments on my blog. I will also delete them. You don't leave insulting comments on my blog and expect me to publish them. Mind your own business. 

Now I don't know for sure if this "Roderick" was using some clever ruse to sell me a reverse mortgage. Hey, maybe "Roderick" is Tom Selleck. Even if he is Tom Selleck I would never in a million years turn over the ownership of my house which I worked so long for to own to some salesman to have a big commission payday. Some years ago I actually had inquired into a reverse mortgage and the salesman was here at our house. Oh he was a slick one for sure. I was burned once back when I was twenty-one years old to buy a life insurance policy that I didn't need or afford. Promises were made that were not true. I was also burned another time by a stock broker to buy "guaranteed" 6% REIT (Real Estate Insurance Trusts). Yes, you know how that "guaranteed rate" worked out. Dean Witter was sued by the state of Pennsylvania for fraud on that one. I was invited to testify before Congress as one of the victims for false advertising. To "Roderick", who so thoughtfully sent me the details of a reverse mortgage, you left out how much commission the salesman (you?) gets on a reverse mortgage. 

I don't like to write negative blog posts like this but occasionally I do to remind some of my blog followers that my blog isn't an opportunity for them to sell me something or to provide a forum for your hate. 

If readers of my blog don't like what I have to say in my blog, then move on. But if you feel the need to insult me or denigrate me, just move on. I will delete your comments. 

To others, who have been reading my blog for the last twenty years and find some pleasure in reading it, I apologize for this negative posting. But at this time of my life, I have run out of patience with those who have no respect for me and feel the need to leave negative comments on my postings. I'm not having it. 

Reflections Of An Old Homo

 

Young Homo 1947 - when I first knew I was "different". 

How's that title to grab  your attention? 

Actually this post isn't about me but a new blog by my blogger friend Tony Davis of Los Angeles, California. 

I followed Tony's blog "Leaving California" many years ago until he abandoned that blog. 

I've met Tony twice in person during visits Pat and I made to Los Angeles. As Spo says "He is well over four feet tall" and a very pleasant guy.

I've often thought of starting another blog with my own reflections of an old homo, which is what I am now folks. I probably will never start that new blog because I barely have enough time to keep up with this blog. And besides, I've already done a lot of old homo reflections. And believe me this old homo has a lot of reflections that I haven't even posted yet.

These days I am smart enough to realize whatever I post on my blog that I have to be very aware of respecting the privacy of others who are and were involved in my "old homo reflections." At one time I thought if those guys died, I could post about them but maybe not. I have to be aware of their family's right to privacy. 

One of my earliest "reflections of an old homo" was the first time I was seduced by a man. He was married at that time. He had three children under five years of age. He had two previous children by an affair with an Eskimo during his Coast Guard stone in Alaska. I mentioned his full name in my blog post. His grown daughter saw my post through a random search of her father's name. She brought me up to date on his life since I broke off with him in 1964. By the way, after a brief affair I did break up with him, even though I liked him a lot, because I didn't want to be his "mistress." I was young and wanted to meet my Forever Husband. 

His daughter told me "We always wondered if dad was gay."  I told her "He was when he was with me. He was the first man I ever had sex with." And he had to seduce me to have sex with him because I was sure nice guys didn't DO THAT but just kissed and cuddled. I knew other gay guys did a LOT more than kiss and cuddle but I thought only degenerates did more. Little did I know. You have to remember I grew up in the late Forties and Fifties in a small town in Pennsylvania. There was no Internet nor information about being gay. The only thing I knew was that I was QUEER (because I knew I liked guys) and that was a BAD thing. I never felt ashamed that I was gay or queer, it just was what I was like I had dark brown hair and I was tall and shy. I never made a "choice" to be gay. I always knew I was "different" since I was four years old. I know it's hard for many straight people to understand this, "how can a four year old kid know he was gay?" You have to understand straight people, it wasn't necessarily a sexual thing at that age but there was definitely an awareness that I knew I was enjoying those "horsey" rides when Earl, the thirteen year old friend of my Uncle Bruce (also thirteen) would come by and play with me and my little friends, both boys and girls. We would jump on Earl's back and he would play Bucking Bronco and playfully try to knock us off of his back. Again, nothing sexual but I knew I was enjoying hoping on Earl's back a bit more than my playmates. It is hard to explain WHY I was enjoying riding Earl's back more but I knew that I was. 

Ironically many years later, when I attended my Uncle Bruce's funeral, I saw his friend Earl. I saw this man who I recognized but I couldn't place him. As I looked at him he returned my stare then averted his eyes guiltily. He knew who I was! At that point I knew who he was. WOW. Now I knew why everything was falling into place. My Uncle Bruce never had children.  My father had ten brothers. All had married and had children.  Uncle Bruce was married once, briefly, but divorced and never had children. Maybe Uncle Bruce was gay? I'll never know but it seems so. By the way, all during my childhood I was never, NEVER sexually abused by ANYONE. My Uncle Bruce used to babysit me, because he lived with us after both his parents (my grandparents) died while he was still a teenager and going to school. After hearing all these child abuse stories these days by priests, teachers, and family members I guess I should consider myself lucky because no one even came close to sexually abusing me. And I was a cute kid! At least I thought I was.

Well, now I'm listening to MSNBC now because the Georgia Grand Jury just released the indictment of The Criminal Donald J. Drumf (his real last name, like everything else about Trump, "Trump" isn't his real last name of course). I'm distracted now so I'll pick up on this blog later. 

But I want to wish my friend Tony well with his new blog, "Reflection Of An Old Homo." Same here friend Tony!

Spo's 61st Birthday

This is an annual You Tube posting from my good friend, the much loved and famous blogger "Ur-Spo" of Phoenix Arizona.

I discovered "Spo" (Michael) about twelve years ago through my late friend The Cajun's blog. I saw his handsome bearded face as a Favorite Bloggers link on the Cajun's blog and was intrigued. I'm a sucker for handsome men with dark beards.

Ten years ago, after following Spo's blog "Spo Reflections" for a couple years he suggested to me a Blogger east coast get together. At that time I worked at a hotel in Lewes, Delaware.  I immediately took up his suggestion and made all the arrangements for the first Bloggerpalooza.

And Old Time photo shot at Rehoboth Beach, DE. That's me in the center with the red bandana around my throat. Michael and David are to the far left in the back row. Everyone without exception in this photo is a fabulous person. All bloggers and great folks! What fun we had! 

That gathering of previously anonymous bloggers who got to meet each other in person was a great success! We immediately decided to make it an annual affair. The next year we had another Bloggerpalooza but alas that was the last one for various reasons I won't go into here. Several of those bloggers have since passed over the Rainbow Bridge or otherwise disappeared into the ether of the great bloggersphere. But I am happy to report I have since reunited with Spo and his longtime partner/husband "Someone" (David) in Palm Springs California during a couple of me and Pat's visits

A picture I SHOULD NOT OF TAKEN at "Indulge", Spo and Someone's lodging of choice when staying in Palm Springs. That's Pat with his arms folded on his red baseball cap and Michael's friend Doug to his right. Immediately after taking this picture I was admonished NOT TO TAKE PICURES! THERE ARE NAKED MEN EMERGING FROM THE POOL! Properly chastised I put my phone away.

to that wonderful desert oasis. In fact Pat and I attended Michael and David's

These two handsome guys are Michael and David on their 17th anniversary

wedding which was a great privilege. By the way, Spo is taller in person than he seems to be on his blog, well over four feet, somewhat to my surprise. Cute elfin like guys like Michael I always expect to be about 5'5". Not Spo, he is well over four feet, almost six feet.

If you're not already a fan of Spo and his blog I urge you to visit his blog. His humor, wisdom and wry view of his world and the world around us is a treasure. And, you get free therapy lessons. 

I am making a major effort not to make this blog posting about me (as I am often wont to do) but I do want to express how fortunate I am to have made a friend like Michael and his husband David and all those others that I met at the Bloggerpalooza. Maybe someday we will all get together again in person. That is the day I look forward to but in the meantime 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MICHAEL!!!

Me with my idol, the handsome Spo (Michael) at Rehoboth Beach 2013

Why I Blog

 

"DIG" Magazine, my favorite reading material when I was a teenager. I remember this cover, oh how I wanted to win this guy as my slave!

Three main reasons why I blog:

1) THERAPY 

I found that writing about myself and my view of the world is the best therapy from keeping me from going crazy. 

I've been blogging since 2005. Prior to blogging I kept a journal nee diary (which I still keep). Prior to keeping a journal (which I wish I had started when I was a teenager) I had multiple pen pals. Oh how I loved my pen pals. At one time I had over sixty pen pals mostly from the United states but also a few foreign pen pals (Japan and Germany). 

I've always been interested in other people's life experiences and have had a desire to express my life experience to others who I thought were as interested in my life as I was in theirs.

But overall I found that blogging or writing provided a release for my bottled up emotions. I'm like that pot of boiling water on the stove with a lid on it. Keep that lid on and I boil over. I need to take that lid off occasionally so I don't boil over. 

2) MAKING FRIENDS

Like many teenagers, I was lonely. Growing up introverted because of a mentally and verbally abusive father I had low self esteem. I didn't feel I was worthy of real life friends so I found pen pals a way to have friends without those "friends" having to see me in person. Me with the big nose, too tall for my age and too skinny. Me, who my father constantly reminded me was a big disappointment to him because I was "stupid". Me, who my father called me by his name for me "Beak". I don't think he ever called me by my real first name the whole time I was growing up at home. Never. When I saw an ad in "DIG" magazine for pen pals I quickly answered it and viola! I had friends. Mostly girls (which was all right) and some guys. No gay pen pals though although I suspect one guy in Wisconsin was a pubescent gay but back in the Fifties, the very regressive Fifties how was one to know? All I knew is he liked to talk about designing dresses for women which was my desire at that time too. Believe it or not, when I was growing up I wanted to be a women's fashion designer. I still have an eye for women's clothes (they should look comfortable on a woman). If I had more self confidence I would probably have followed my dream of being a fashion designer. One thing I know for sure, I could design more fashionable (and comfortable) clothes than many of the designs I see today.

And of course another aspect of "making friends" was even at twelve years old I was looking for Prince Charming. I too was an awakening pubescent male with hormones just beginning to stir. Mainly what I wanted was a very handsome man like Guy Madison ("Wild Bill Hicock") to come in and sweep me away to Living Happily Forever Land. Alas, I had to settle for watching Wild Bill on TV in his tight buckskin outfit with fringes and his raspy sidekick Andy Devine.

3) LEAVING A MARK

We all are here only a short time (I'm over extended at eighty years old now, Gravy Time) and I've always had this desire to "leave my mark." That my existence mattered. Of course it won't matter at all to me when I check out (die) but right now and for most of my life I have struggled with "how do I leave my mark?" I have no discernible unique talent unless you consider survival a talent, and maybe that is. But there are a lot of people who have survived under much more difficult circumstance than your humble blogger here. I figured if I wrote about my life that maybe someone, like me, hundred or two hundred years down the road will read my blog and say to him for herself "Ron sounds like a nice guy, I wish I could have met him." In other words, proof that my life mattered.

We are all unique in this world, every one of us. I am always so grateful that I have this forum (blogging) that I can do all these things. 

I have made friends. Some I have even met in person and they are splendid people. Not once have I been disappointed when I have met someone through my blog. Of course the most prominent example is Pat F. of Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. I am convinced that we were the same ectoplasm in a previous life just because we have so much in common. And the irony is that he isn't a regular blog follower. He happened to see my image on the Internet when I was testifying before the Delaware State Legislature for Marriage Equality and he looked me up and found my blog. That was in 2013 and we've been best buddies since. He comes down here in a week to visit me and help me for my first cataract surgery visit. I haven't seen him in person for two years. It will be good to see my friend Pat again. He is truly a unique person who I would never have found if I wasn't blogging. Meeting him alone is worth all the years of blogging I've done.

I've met Spo in person. A perfectly splendid fellow. Sean ("Sassy Bear"), a joyful guy who makes all smile who are fortunate enough to be in his presence. I even met Fearsome Beard (through Spo, Fearsome doesn't follow my blog), oh my what a nice guy. Others I would like to meet someday. Walt in France but that seems unlikely. Then there are the regular blog followers I have now. Victor, Jim, Jon, Joel and Woody in Ohio. Some come and go over the years. I'm always sad when I don't hear from them anymore. Did they die? Did I say something to cause them to head for the EXIT door? Or did I succeed in boring them too? Anne Marie of Philly used to be a fan but something I did pissed her off and she was gone like a puff of air. Oh well, I moved on.

Now through the years of my blogging I've had to make many adjustments in the way and what I write about. More than a few times I've stepped on some sensitive toes. I've always divulged private information which I should have kept to myself out of respect for the person I was writing about even though they have passed on. Family members are easily offended and don't like having a queer write about their father he seduced him (I was a willing participant). These days I try to avoid writing last names lest I embarrass the surviving family members who in reality deserve to preserve the memory of their father (always men) who was the boy scout leader and respected church elder and not the eighteen year old fellow soldier who was looking for a blow job. Oh the stories I could tell but those stories will go to my grave with me and only a few selected friends will know those "details." 

Then there are also the people I have outed (both male and female) who,  upon second thought I should not have done. I'm not a believer in outing people, that's a decision they should make, a private decision and none of my business. I daresay I have permanently alienated more than one person where I am not welcomed into their homes now because I outed a family member who prefers to live their life in the closet. Yes, even to this day there are closeted gays as unbelievable as that sounds. Must be a combination of self hate and a desire to live a "normal" life. 

I've permanently alienated all the gays here where I live in southern Delaware (Rehoboth Beach). I've written more than once they're a cliquey self serving group who are not welcoming other gays outside their clique. Took me a while to realize that but as Groucho Marx said:

So I will continue to blog as long as I can. Time is running out but I think I still have a few good years left that my brain is functioning even though my body is rapidly failing me. 

That's why I blog folks!

P.S.

I had saved all buy DIG magazines including the one with the guy on the cover to win as a slave. My Mom threw out all my magazines with my EXTENSIVE comic book collection (including all my Crypt comic books pre censorship) when I joined the Army at eighteen years old. She thought they were a "bad influence." Too late Mom, I was already influenced. I WANTED that guy as my slave!

Day Is Only Half Over

Bill looking at the hole in the ground outside my bedroom window where the sealant around the sewer pipe lets in ground water down the wall of our finished basement. When it rains it pours.

Busy day today and the day isn't even half over yet!

As usual, first thing in the morning is to get Bill ready for the day. Even though today wasn't "Shower Day" (that's every third day), it was the usual preparing Bill for his/our day.

If I get up later than seven o'clock, I immediately go downstairs to his bedroom to tell him I'm up lest he worried that I checked out in my sleep. I know from past experience if I don't do this he'll come upstairs to my bedroom in a panic thinking I died in my sleep.

Once I prepare myself for the day (bathroom ablutions) I bet Bill's morning meds out on the counter with peach juice to wash those three pills down (also three pills at night before bedtime, two of which are different than the morning meds). I get his packet of oatmeal ready also. Then I go downstairs to his bedroom, turn on his light to wake him (he's sitting fully clothed in his Archie Bunker chair). A morning kiss and then help him up so I can help him take his pants off because he has to wash himself (head, ears and private parts) and put on a fresh Depends underwear. I prepare a pan of Dial anti bacterial soapy water for this daily routine. Once we struggle to get his old Depends off and put the new ones on then I have to change the dressing on his edema swollen leg. That has to be done daily. Take the dressing off, wash the wound, and put new dressing on. Before I do that however, I wash down his whole legs with the same Dial anti-bacterial soap and soak his feet. I think the washing/massaging keeps his edema swollen legs from getting worse. 

Then we put on his socks and pants and I help him put on his sweater (always a challenge for him, he had it on upside down last week when I let him put it on himself). 

Then we're off to upstairs and breakfast. He always has the same breakfast, oatmeal with an extra tablespoon of sugar. Bill loves his sugar.

After breakfast Bill always has to go to his bathroom for his daily bowel movement (thank goodness that's still working). I tell him he's a "processor of oatmeal" which he always thinks is funny (doesn't take much folks).

After this is when I have my breakfast of cereal and then I take my morning walk. It's been so cold lately I haven't been taking my morning walk and my legs, especially the left one where I tore my quadricep muscle a few years ago, lets me know by swelling up and going numb. 

This morning was a bit different because at 9:30 AM I was expecting my local geek squad (i.e., "Computer Guy") to come over an install a driveway sensor to let Bill (us) know whenever someone drives up our driveway. Bill had made one some years ago but it stopped working and I'm not the electronic genius that Bill was before he lost his eyesight and cognitive abilities so I have to hire someone to do these jobs. "Jake" did a find job and new we have a bell that goes off every time someone dares to enter our space.

Then it was off to our local supermarket to see if they got any food in. They did get in my favorite crinkle cut French Fries but now I see where the meat shelves are empty? WTF?  

Empty meat shelves at our local supermarket. Where will the folks get their protein? Beans?

I also had to stop at the Post Office to return my latest DVD to Netflix. A really good one called "The Forgotten", a PBS Masterpiece Mystery Theater. I can't wait to get the next DVD to find out who killed that skeleton they found in the basement of that old house builders were excavating. Oh I do love a good mystery, especially one that is well written and acted and this one is EXCELLENT!

After the Post Office (lots of cars in the PO parking lot, what's going on? It's not Christmas), I had to stop at Ace Hardware and get a tarp to cover that gaping hole I have outside my bedroom window where the guys yesterday dug out around the sewer pipe that exits out basement. That was/is the source of the groundwater leak (every time it rains) that drips down and sometimes cascades down our basement wall). HAVE TO GET THAT FIXED. I'm told they're coming by tomorrow to get it ready to epoxy. 

I got the tarp at Ace Hardware and while in the parking lot I called Touch of Italy restaurant to order their Tuesday special of Chicken Parm which is half price today ($16.95 - man oh man I couldn't pay full price on my retirement income). That an a tip of $2.00 and I have a meal for four days or five depending on how hungry I am. I had to go to Lewes to pick up the Chicken Parm. While I was there I took my old People magazines and dropped them off at my barber, Hyatt of Hyatt's Just Cuts. This time I included the Royal Special Editions of People magazine. Hyatt will like those! Even though she's Moroccan she loves following the British Royal family shenanigans.

Then back home here. I laid out the tarp to cover that hole (actually before I went to Lewes) and then in the house to put everything away. Bill still gets mixed up getting out of our car. He keeps locking the car instead of reaching for the handle. Then he gets so frustrated. When we first went out this morning he was having trouble putting on his outside Crocs. I look and sure enough, he didn't take off his inside Crocs first. Not the first time he's done this. Again, he gets so frustrated when this happens but he'll do it again.....tomorrow. 

Now I'm back home updating my blog. Haven't have a chance to update "the boards" (the twelve online Scrabble games I play with Pat). But I'm disciplining myself to update my blog everyday even if it is with boring and mundane nonsense like I just posted now.

Have a great day!

Blogging Daily

Me at my desk now. This is my life in my very comfortable Delaware home.

Fifteen days into this year and I'm keeping my goal of blogging daily. Of course a blog title of "Blogging Daily" isn't going to get many blog views. but sometimes it's hard to come up with an attention grabbing blog title without wearing out the shock value. Of course my blog title that has received the most hits is "Naked On The Beach."  I really was naked on the beach. It was back in the Seventies and I took the challenge from a guy (Tony Bellafato) who I met on the beach who was into nude sun bathing. I did it because I was curious and wanted to check that hot item off of my bucket list. So here we go folks, probably not my most provocative and titillating blog posting but a slice of my life today. By the way, a nude picture of me lying on the beach today? I would probably lost at least half of my blog followers. You don't want to see my bod these days. I weigh about the same but everything has shifted. 

The temperature is 24 degrees outside right now. There is another winter storm watch this weekend but it looks like we're going to miss the snow here on the Delmarva peninsula. Thank God for small miracles. However, the Carolinas and other south mid Atlantic states won't be so lucky. Hopefully my longtime blogger friend Jon of Lone Wolf Concerto won't lose his power. Jon is up in the Tennessee mountain wilderness all by himself with just possums, mice, raccoons and an occasional snake sneaking into his bedroom bureau drawers. I am familiar with his circumstances, I have relatives from father's side of the family who live in the mountains of western North Carolina near Johnson City, Tennessee. Beautiful country but I wouldn't/couldn't live there. First of all, as beautiful as that area of the country and all those churches, they're very homophobic. I prefer to live out my final days not dodging that relentless hate from my neighbors.

Pat and I are still discussing and and when we move to Palm Springs. Living in Palm Springs is definitely in my future, the only question is will it be full time for just a month or two a year? If I live long enough I will probably need a caregiver myself. I'm no spring chicken at eighty years old. Pat is just seven years younger than me at seventy-three years old. We've made a new friend in Glenn M. who is preparing to move to Palm Springs after losing his partner, Glenn of whom I spoke about early in this blog posting. There are a lot of older gay guys in Palm Springs. I would hate to leave my very comfortable home here in coastal southern Delaware but if I need care, I may not have a choice. I would hate to part with my lifetime of accumulations of things that hold such dear memories but I eventually would lose all that anyway. Decisions, decisions that will have to be made in the future. As for right now my immediate priority is taking care of Bill. This time next year, who knows?

What is your situation? Do you plan to fade out at where you live now?

Trouble Leaving Comments On My Blog

 Recently I've been receiving complaints from longtime blogger friends that they are unable to leave comments on my blog. I'm sorry but I don't have a fix for this problem. As many users of Blogger (Google supported) know, Google doesn't have a Help line. So we're on our own. 

I just went in and changed some of my privacy settings. Hopefully that will correct the problem some of you have been having leaving comments on my blog. 

I've been toying with the idea of abandoning Blogger and going full board with Word Press. However, I am a creature of habit and I've been using Blogger since 2005 and I am reluctant to leave Blogger. That and I find Word Press harder to use and this old (80) brain of mine isn't becoming any more agile. 

So bear with me folks and I'll try and correct this problem. Perhaps the problem is that I haven't been blogging as much as I have in the past years. There were times I was blogging every day and sometimes twice a day. Longtime followers of this blog know that. 

However, if this problem persists I may just go to Word Press. After all I am paying an annual subscription for the privilege of using Word Press. I started a blog over there years ago but I'm ashamed to admit I never kept up with it. And I like the title of this blog "Retired in Delaware". Much to the chagrin of a certain real estate company which would LOVE to have by blog title for their ads.

Welcome Back!

Yes, I have returned to my old Blogger format. 

I tried, I REALLY tried the new Blogger format but I just couldn't GET IT. 

Blogger forced me into the new format. I didn't want to go but they forced me. Why do they do that? "New and improved"? WTF? They have a committee that has to justify its existence and change just for the sake of changing.

I've been blogging since 2005. I've made many friends and lost a few friends (their choice, not mine because THEY COULDN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH). Some died, some just got bored and some just moved on with their lives, leaving my small, buried, insignificant blog in their wake. I blog for the same reason I journal, therapy. If I made a few friends along the way, more is the better. Of course I would never have met Pat, if I hadn't been blogging. He's The One Friend I was searching for all those lonely nights hanging out in smoke filled, booze infused gay bars during my Glory Years. How ironic that he came into my life many years after I had given up the Bar Scene. Just goes to show you, lookin for love in all the wrong places is SO TRUE.

Truth be told, I'm most comfortable in this basic, old fashioned Blogger format. I feel right at home. I have to make blogging fun again. That "new" format was just to laborious. 

Some of my blogger friends have really cool blog formats in Word Press. I have a Word Press account (which I have to PAY for by the way) but it hurts my head to try and navigate Word Press. At this time of my life I'm just trying to minimize those "hurt my head to think" activities. I have to keep things simple like cleaning up after Bill after he has another bathroom accident (he had one a few days ago, and yes, it was a mess. More on that later......maybe). 

So I'm back folks. Welcome back! 

Now I have some grass to mow on this really hot and humid day. 

Have a great day wherever  you are and remember, make each day count because tomorrow may be your last.