My Mistake

Planting of river birch trees on the border of our property

Ever do anything foolish?  One would think at my advanced years that I would learn.  One one think right?  Well, here's a boner (no pun intended) that I pulled last week.  As you all know I am an avid gardener and amateur landscaper.  We have an acre of blank slate land to play around with here at Casa Tipton-Kelly.  Bill and I decided that what would complete the edge of our lot that borders a cornfield (soybean field in the off years) was a row of river birch trees.  Last year we purchased and planted three river birch trees in an oval planter that Bill built near our sun room.  Those trees were perfect in that location and are doing fabulous.  So what better way to plug up that open space on the border of our property than to plant more river birch trees?

Thus we went down to a local nursery which will remain unnamed because I'm tired of getting nasty comments on my blog every time I post something negative.  We look over the trees and I order five of them at $195.00 each.  Expensive?  Yes.  Worth it?  Absolutely!  I made sure to go on Tuesday when I could get the senior citizen 10% discount.  Tuesdays and Thursdays, 10% for the old folk.

So I check out the trees and order them.  Since the trees are too big to put into my Subaru Forester I make arrangements to have them delivered.  There is a delivery charge of $65.00.  Okay.  Then I was asked if I would like the fellows to plant them for me.  Well, this was a question that I was going to consider for the first time.  In the past I have always planted anything I purchased.  ANYTHING!  I've never had anything die.  And believe you me I have purchased enough plantings over the years to replicate a Longwood Gardens.

But on this day I purchased the trees, the temperature was hovering around 95 humid degrees.  Both Bill and I are no longer spring chickens.  Bill said he couldn't plant them and frankly, I didn't feel like digging five holes in the tropical heat to plant these river birch trees.  I asked "How much would it cost to plant them?"  I was told "Half the price of each tree, but no discount.  But......we will include delivery free and the trees are guaranteed for a year."  Expensive?  You bet, HALF THE PRICE OF EACH TREE?  That comes to $487.50.  Uh.......why not?  I have a few extra bucks since I am no longer paying a mortgage.  Why not splurge?  And this folks is where I made "Ron's Mistake."  "Foolish Ron." Yes folks, I took leave of my senses.  I said "Yes."  Why not indulge in an old gay guy's fantasy and have a couple of young hunks do my physical labor for me?  Haven't I earned it?  Well, maybe.  BIG MISTAKE.

Delivery was set for the following Friday.  They came on time.  And yes, there were two young, hunky guys in a butch big truck who were making the delivery.   While Bill and I relaxed in the comfort of retirement splendor in the sunroom of our hacienda, we watched the younguns labor in the misty morning, planting our five new river birch trees.  I didn't hover over them, I let them do their thing.  After all I assumed they knew what they were doing this was costing me almost $500.00.  After they were done I thanked them and even gave them a $20 tip.  Oh when Ron does Foolish, Ron spares nothing.

Fast forward a week.  Bill tells me the leaves are falling off the trees.  Really?  It's not fall.  My goodness, what could be happening?  I got three BIG river birches last year and nary a leaf fell off when I planted them.  So I trot myself out for a look-see.  Uh huh, the leaves are not only falling off, they are a deathly gray.  Oh no, here we go.  I have to go back to the nursery and tell them of my woe.  At least have them to come and look at the trees and tell me what is wrong.  Even better, replace the trees although I felt that I might just have a problem there.

So the day arrives to return to the nursery with my tale of woe . I gather a few of the dead leaves and put
them in an envelope to prove the trees are dying.  I even take a couple of photos and put them on my iPad for further proof.

We arrive at the garden center.  I ask to see "someone" about my guarantee.  The lady I asked said "Oh, you'll have to see Al.  He's the expert on the river birch trees.  He out now but he will be back in about fifteen minutes.  Can you wait?"  I've seen this "Al" around.  I think he is the Owner or one of the owners. I get a feeling of foreboding that this isn't going to be easy.  "Al" looks like one of those guys who has the smile but doesn't give.

Bill and I kill time wandering around the garden center.  About twenty minutes later Al arrives.  He's busy with another customer.  We wait another fifteen minutes.  Then Al is ready to see us.  I tell him of my Tale of Woe.  He is not interested.  No in the least.  Uh huh, not surprised.  I show him the dead leaves.  He says "That doesn't tell me anything, I need to see the branches."  Oh yeah, I'm going to cut off branches and bring them in.  He tells me that everyone brings in dead leaves (really?)  He says by looking at the branches he can see if there is new growth.  Well....okay.

Al now tells me that I may not be watering them enough.  I tell him that it rained the day the trees were planted and we've had plenty of rain since.  However, I did notice when the Two Young Hunks planted the trees that they didn't fill the hole with water first like I always do.  I thought they knew what they were doing.  After all I was paying Big Bucks for a Professional Planting.

After I tell Al that we've had plenty of rain and that I also have an irrigation system he says "Maybe you're watering them too much.  Turn off your irrigation system and let them dry out."  WHAT? I told Al that I didn't have this problem last year WHEN I PLANTED THE DAMN TREES MYSELF!

Well folks, I don't want to torture you anymore with this narrative.  The bottom line is that Al wasn't going to do anything, let alone come out and visit my dying trees.  He did make one slip up though.  He asked if the trees were covered with tarp when they were delivered.  I told him they were not.  In fact, I can remember how the trees were dumped in the back of the truck like debris.  But again, I thought the Two Hunks knew what they are doing because they were PROFESSIONALS.

When I told him they weren't covered with tarp Al indicated that the trees should have been covered with tarp because they root ball would dry out from the long trip (fifteen miles) to our house.  I told him again "No they weren't covered."  Al just looked at me and I got the message.  He wasn't going to do anything now.  He wasn't going to replace the two trees which were in really bad shape nor was he going to visit the trees himself.  He said wait until next year and even then the trees maybe be a "little thin." Yeah, like the monster trees that I have now that I planted last year.  It was clear that I wasn't going to get anywhere with Al.  I could throw a hissy fit and make a scene but unless it is really serious business I don't conduct business that way anymore especially since I've been on the Other Side of the Counter with my hotel front desk job.  People who throw hissy fits rarely if ever get satisfaction.  All they do by their hysterics is harden the position of their opposition.

So I tucked my tail between my legs and left, telling myself that I had learned a lesson. Yep, as old as I am I got snookered in again, I'm ashamed to admit.  I was an Old Fool.

After we got home Bill and I checked the tree that was the worst.  Ah yes, there was new growth on the branches! We could see the beginnings of buds.  There was hope.  Then we dug up the tree because it was planted crooked.  The way the Two Young Hungs Hunks planted it, the tree looked like the Leaning Tower of River Birch Tree.  After we pulled the root ball out we saw the problem...it was dry as dessert sand!  That's why it was dying.  The hole dug for the trees should have had at least a bucket of water in the hole before the root ball was placed in it.  Just the way I've always planted bushes and trees.  What do I know?  Only how to plant that's all.

So Bill and I replanted the tree and gave them all a good drink of water.  Now they seem to be recovering.  I think we will be able to save these trees.  However, come next spring if I have one dead tree I am returned to the garden center and Al and he's going to see how I deal with guarantees.

P.S.

A commenter suggested that I write of my experience on Angie's List.  That was an excellent suggestion that I took.  I opened up an account on Angie's List this morning and will tell of my experience with this local landscape nursery who charged me big bucks for a less than satisfactory planting.  I received a service for which I should pay for but I also have the option of telling others about that service which I will do.

Why I Love Peggy

Sure, Jon Hamm as Don Draper gets all the buzz on the popular TV series about Sixties advertising men called "Mad Men."  But you know who has transfixed me since the first time I saw her?  Yep!  It's Peggy as in Peggy Olsen, the New Girl In The Office.

Elisabeth Moss is the actress who portrays Peggy Olsen.  I think she is great!  In fact, I think her story line is much more interesting than the hottie Don Draper (Jon Hamm).  I think Peggy represents something that all of us (or most of us anyway) can identify with.  While she isn't not drop dead gorgeous, she is attractive enough to generate interest from some of the more sleazy men.  Oh can I ever identify with Peggy!

The series started with Peggy's first day in the office.  How many of us can remember our First Day In The Office? I know I can.  Even though I'm a man I can identify with being the innocent, naive newbie in the office like Peggy just trying to fit in and perhaps get ahead with what my modest physical attractiveness d and whatever small talents I had.  However, one thing that I had in abundance just like Peggy, was an unbridled eagerness to please and willingness to work hard to get ahead.  And just like Peggy, little did I realize that the get ahead in those times (the Sixties) sometimes required more than working hard and an expectation that my work ethic would be rewarded.  Oh how wrong I was.

My first job after I got out of the Army after serving our country for three years (January 1960 to January 1963) was as a hotel night auditor at the Pittsburgh Hilton Hotel in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  As regular readers of this blog know, I came out early as a gay man including my five male co-workers who worked my 11 PM to 7 AM shift as hotel night auditors, BIG MISTAKE.  I'm sorry to say this but my co-workers took that admission as an invitation to be "serviced" as they proved one Saturday night they invited themselves to my small, one room efficiency apartment on Roup Avenue in Shadyside Pittsburgh.  My workplace was never the same after this"encounter." Nothing happened of course because I didn't cooperate in my co-workers' expectations.  I left that job after three months and returned to my hometown of Downingtown, Pennsylvania.

Shortly after I returned home I got job as an accounts payable clerk at a local scrapyard.  Me being me, I didn't hide my sexuality when questioned about my "girlfriends."  And right on cue one of my married so called straight co-workers showed up at my new efficiency apartment one Saturday night. Yep, he was expecting to be serviced.  Some things never change.  He didn't get serviced and, of course, never spoke of the incident again.  When I returned to work that Monday it was as if nothing happened but our relationship always had that strain.  Back in those days some people could only handle having a gay men in this workplace as a lesser human being.  He was one of them.  This time I didn't quit my job.  I worked in the office as an accounts payable clerk at that metal scrapyard for another two and half years before I applied for a job at a big bank in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.  I  began my new job at Girard Trust Bank March 1, 1965 and believe me, I was just like Peggy on her first day at her job at the ad agency.

Still innocent (sort of) 

For the next thirty years I worked in center city Philadelphia at two major banks as an out gay man.  Those years folks would make one interesting TV series to rival any "Mad Men" series.  Believe me.

Me at Mellon Bank 1982 - not so innocent anymore

Note:

While I am known to have thousands of photographs, I have none of my time at the Pittsburgh Hotel or Lipsett Steel Products.  None.

33 Things About Me

I've been in a lull lately folks.  Time for a list.  I've updated the old "33 things about me."   

1.   What is your occupation right now?  Semi-retired and working part-time as hotel front desk clerk

2.  What color are your socks right now?  white

3.  What music are you listening to right now?  None

4.  What was the last thing that you ate?  A brownie with pecan ice cream

5.   Can you drive a stick shift?  No

6.  Last person you spoke to on the phone?  A cousin

7.   What was your first job? Paper boy 

8.  How old are you today? 70

9.  What is your favorite sport to watch on TV?  None, don't watch sports on TV or anywhere

10.  What is your favorite drink?  Turkey Hill Diet Decaf Orange Ice Tea diluted half with water

11.   Have you ever dyed your hair?  Yes

12.  Favorite food?  Eggplant Parmesan

13.  What is the last movie you watched?  "Mad Men" Season 1 DVD's from Netflix

14.  Favorite day of the year?  Christmas Eve

15.  How do you vent anger?  Holler

16.  What was your favorite toy as a child?  Balsa airplane

17.  What is your favorite season? Summer

18.  Cherries or Blueberries?  Cherries

19.  Have you ever run for public office?  Yes 

20.  Favorite actress?  Bette Davis

21.  What dream is yet unrealized? My own backyard pool.

22.  Living arrangements?  With my "roommate" of the last 48 years, Bill.

23.  When was the last time you cried?  Last night. 

24.  What is on the floor of your closet?  Memorabilia (photos, books, etc)

25.  Favorite singer? Dinah Washington

26.  What did you do last night?  Watched "Mad Men" DVDs in my bedroom.

27.   What are you most afraid of?   Homelessness

28.    Plain, cheese, or spicy hamburgers?  Spicy Burgers 

29.  Favorite dog breed?  Pomeranians

30. Favorite day of the week?  Monday

31.  How many states have you lived in?  5 - PA, NJ, MA, MD and DE

32.  Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds

33.  What is your favorite flower?  Rose 

Same Sex Headstones

My former neighbor's headstone - they were together forty years

A few weeks ago I posted about gay headstones in a cemetery.  As regular readers of this blog know, I am a Find a Grave volunteer.  I take photos of grave headstones in cemeteries and post them to a website called Find a Grave.com.  Occasionally I come across a headstone with two male names (or female) on a single headstone.  Since most of the grave headstones I take photos of are of folks who died back in the dark ages when homosexuals were all in the closet and had to hide their true feelings for one another.  As I came across some of these headstones I often wondered if some of these gay folks tried to do an end run against the ignorance and hate of our shameful past era and try to proclaim their eternal love for one another with a single headstone.  I think so.

However, one of the comments I received stated that perhaps the two male names on the single headstone were of brothers.  Maybe but not the headstone I pictured in my blog.  On that headstone I had done my research (Ancestry.com) and found that the one man was born in Poland and the other man born in the United States.  Still, not for certain they weren't related but probably not.

Now I have proof positive that two gay men are on one headstone.  The picture of the headstone at the top of this blog is of my former neighbor and his partner.  Don and Al were together for forty years.  I knew Al was buried near Princeton, New Jersey, where he grew up and worked most of his life before he moved to our neighborhood here in Delaware about the same time Bill and I moved here (2006).

Don, Al and I reading for a Halloween outing (you didn't think I would wear a dress did you?)

Al died a few months ago.  I requested a photo of his grave through Find a Grave.com.  Another Find a Grave.com volunteer was kind enough to take that photo and send it to me.  I have to say I was surprised when I saw what Don (the surviving partner) did.  Good old Don put it right out there for the world to see.

This gives me encouragement.  I would like to do the same for me and Bill but I know Bill is definitely against it.  Bill is of the old school of homosexuals where if you're gay you stay in the closet and don't dare tell anyone.  He says he sees no reason to "throw it in their face" the fact we're gay. To me, short of having sex in public, acting normally isn't "throwing it in their face."  This difference of opinion has always been a source of contention in our relationship.  I don't think Bill will ever change and I know I certainly won't.  I came out at 21 years old in 1963 and I never went back in the closet since.  At times it hasn't been easy folks, especially those early years but it is the only way I could live.

I have to be me.  I will not and cannot live my life the way others expect or want me to live my life.  It ain't happening.  If that makes some people, including my friends (and former friends), tough.  I would rather not have the friendship if it is to be on those (their) terms.

So it was with great pleasure that I saw that my neighbor Don put this headstone out there for all the world to see.  Bravo Don!

Al and Don out for dinner with their neighbors - yes, Don is giving me The Finger

So Why Wasn't I Invited?

Cars gathered at an Oyster Rocks house for a party or something earlier this evening

Been to any parties lately?  Me neither.

A few minutes ago, as I was rounding the corner of Clamshell Drive in Oyster Rocks, the development behind me where I take my early evening walk, I observed a goodly number of cars parked out in front of one of the houses.  First thought that came to my mind "Why wasn't I invited?"  


Granted, I have no idea who the people are who live in that house but during past walks, I have passed them and exchanged non binding pleasantries the way one does with strangers to let them know you're not casing their neighborhood for a future robbery.  I've been walking in Oyster Rocks for about six years now so I assume most of the long time residents know who the tall, bearded, round shouldered, "older man" is who walks in their development almost every evening when the weather is decent.

Me in full Halloween regalia October 2007

Seriously though folks, when was the last time you went to a party?  The whole six years I've lived in Gayberry, I've been invited to one party.  That was a Halloween Party that doubled as a house warming (bring a gift) held by my former Computer Guy.  When I got the invite I was all excited because I thought "Hey!  Someone likes me, they really like me!"   Little did I know that I was but one among hundreds who was invited to said Halloween Party.  Once I got there and was directed where to place my house warming gift and saw the stack of housewarming loot on the dining room table, I was brought back to reality.  Still, I managed to make the best of the situation and mingled with the crowd, none of whom could of cared less if I was there or not.  I was never invited back.  Maybe because one can only have one housewarming or maybe because I was a colossal bore.  Who knows?  Who cares?

Me sans monster mark (do I look better with the mask?)

Roman Centurions - these guys throw a lot of parties - I'm never invited

Pirates - I don't know if these guys throw parties but I sure would like to be invited to theirs

Me and my "date" - I was asked to one of his parties - ONE

So here I am tonight , talking my daily evening walk in Oyster Rocks on this very pleasant, almost summer evening and I see folk gathered together seemingly having a good time although I heard no raucous sounds emanating from their house.

I used to have an occasional Saturday night dinner that I prepared for a former friend (he dismissed me as a friend after he read something in my blog that offended him).  Bill even stayed up for that dinner.  I used to enjoy putting together something special.  I sort of miss all that was involved in putting on a dinner but it's perhaps just as well that Bill and I are back to our regular routine.  Bill goes to bed early (7 or 8 o'clock) and I stay up late watching one of my Netflix rentals.

I remember my Mother saying that when she got older she had no desire to put together a big dinner like she used to every day for years and years.  I know how she feels.

Thus my dinner tonight was meat loaf made from the Cracker Barrel recipe that I swiped from the Internet. I made one small change in the recipe, I added Chipotle bread crumbs just to see how that would taste.  OMG!  Delicious!  I now have a new Favorite Recipe.  So for dinner tonight I had my homemade red potato salad and TWO slices of my Cracker Barrel Chipotle meat loaf.  I washed it down with Turkey Hill Died Orange Decaf Ice Tea.  I sliced up the rest of the meat loaf and put them in Seal-a-Bag and froze them for dinners during the week.

So you see there, I don't need to go to no damn stinking party, I make my own party.  And for dessert tonight I'll have some of that bread pudding I made yesterday with the Panera bread baguettes that came with all that soup that I bought at Panera yesterday.

Life is good folks.

Cousin Charles

Charles Raymond Tipton
December 24, 1934 - June 1, 2012

During my life I have come into contact with many people.  Most of these people don't affect the direction of my life but then there are those few who do.  What has always amazed me as I look back in retrospect form my vantage point of seventy years on this earth, is how some of the least likely people have affected my life the greatest.  One of those people was my cousin Charles Raymond Tipton.

My grandparents Fieldon and Hester Tipton had twelve children, eleven of whom lived to adulthood.  All of their children were boys.   I had ten uncles and thirty-eight first cousins on the paternal (Tipton) side of my family.  By contrast, on my Mother's side of my family I had six first cousins.  Growing up, there were always a lot of Tipton cousins around.  The oldest of those first cousins was Charles Raymond Tipton.

Charles was the oldest child and son of my Uncle Raymond Tipton, who in turn was the oldest son of my grandfather Fieldon and grandmother Hester Lewis Tipton.  

Growing up I was closer to some of my other first cousins than I was to cousin Charles.  It wasn't until 1994 that I really started to develop a relationship with cousin Charles.  

What brought that about was a phone call from Charles inquiring as to the dates of birth of myself and my brothers.  Charles told me that  Professor Lloyd Bailey of Duke University was preparing his family tree and our Tipton line was in it.  Professor Bailey was related to our family through my great-great grandmother Martha "Patty" Bailey who was married to my great-great grandfather John Tipton who died fighting for the Union cause in North Carolina during the Civil War.

I had always been interested in my roots or family genealogy but didn't know where to start.  This phone call from my cousin Charles is what got me started.  From that random phone call I started on a journey to which I continue to this very day.  I record my family history on my account at Ancestry.com.  Through my genealogy research I also became a volunteer for Find a Grave.com.  A few weeks ago I returned from a trip to my ancestral homeland in the mountains of western North Carolina taking pictures of cemeteries in those hills which contain many Tipton headstones.

This afternoon I was on my computer updating the photos I took of the Tipton-Griffith Cemetery in Tipton Hill, North Carolina when I received a phone call from Charles sister, Pauline Jones.  She called to tell me that Charles had died this afternoon at 5:35 pm.  

Charles had suffered a heart attack yesterday.  Pauline told me that Charles was actually dead at that time but the medic had resuscitated him to the point where he was breathing again. Only problem was that he was brain dead.  He was put on life support.  Pauline told me that Charles had often told her and his family that he "didn't want to go the way his dad did."  

Today his family decided to take him off of life support.  He died a few hours later.  

While I was never particularly close to Charles I will miss him nonetheless.  He was a wise and gentle man with an earthy sense of humor.  Charles always knew that he was the Senior Cousin and carried that responsibility with grace, dignity and pride.  

I will miss my occasional phone calls to Charles updating him on the latest interesting tidbit that I found on our common family history.  I will miss hearing the way he would say my name "Ron."  Charles had a gentle masculine voice which I found very comforting.  

These days when it seems that so many of my friends and family are leaving me, I sometimes feel melancholy for times past.  Times that will never be duplicated again.  Then I think that my time isn't that far away either.  

I don't fear death but I do sometimes feel waves of sadness sweep over me.  Not a sadness over my impending departure but a sadness that yet another link from my past is gone.  A sadness knowing I am one step closer to the loneliness of old age. 

I always remember what my maternal grandfather George Hadfield (the only grandparent I ever knew) told me shortly before he died. He said "Ronnie, the bad thing about getting old is all of your friends are gone."  

With each passing of a friend or a relative I knew exactly what he meant.

Goodbye Cousin Charles.  Thank you for your kindness.

Panera Bread

The new Panera Bread restaurant, Rehoboth Beach, Delaware

Gail (my barber yesterday): "Have you tried the new Panera Bread restaurant yet?

Me (getting my haircut from my barber Gail yesterday morning): "No, where is it?"

Gail: "It's just past the Colonial Storage on Rt. 1.  You can't see it from the road."

Me:  "Oh great!  They open a new restaurant and I can't see how to get into it from Rt. 1."

Gail: "It's easy to get into, just make the first right turn when you see the Colonial Storage sign."


Since this past winter, I've been hearing rumors that a Panera Bread restaurant was going to open in our area.  When I heard the good news I felt like a man wandering in the desert, dying of thirst and they seeing a cool oasis with water beckoning.  Could it be true?  Were we really getting a decent restaurant here in Gayberry (aka Rehoboth Beach)?  We, who are held hostage on this Delmarva peninsula with tourist trap local restaurants and below par national chains (with the exception of Cracker Barrel and Bob Evans).

COULD THIS NEWS REALLY BE TRUE?

Well folks, I'm here to tell you that it is true!  Thank God almighty, we here on the lower peninsula finally have a great restaurant that is Single Diner Friendly.  Not only is Panera a restaurant that welcomes single diners, this restaurant also has great food at affordable prices. And there is more!

Where you place your order - no host, no waiter - splendid!

No kissing up to the host (or hostess) of the local overpriced eatery for a good seat.  No waiting for a waiter (or waitress) and being held hostage to their ATTITUDE OF THE DAY.  Oh yes folks, I have been treated in a rude and offhanded manner more than once for having the temerity of go into a restaurant and actually expect prompt, courteous and efficient service from THE HELP.  HA!  Try that in the Tourist Season.  You'll get THE LOOK.

Hey, it's not that I don't know all about tourist meccas.  After all I did vacation for many years at The Cape (Provincetown) but I was fortunate in that almost all of the restaurants in Provincetown were excellent and provided superior service.  The one exception was one year that I chose to take my vacation on Labor Day which is a no-no because it is the End of the Season and The Help is burned out (poor folk).  When I chose  Slower Lower (aka Sussex County Delaware) to retire, I sort of expected the same kind of restaurants and service since this is a heavily gay dominated area.  Oh how wrong I was.  But that is a subject for another blog posting (as it has been for several of my past blog postings).

So it was with much anticipation when I heard that a Panera Bread restaurant would be opening in the area where I chose to retire and spend my waning days on this earth.

I was introduced to Panera Bread several years ago when I visited my brother John at his home in beautiful Greenville, South Carolina.  Brother John is at his local Panera Bread almost every day for a quick lunch and occasionally bringing home a treat for his wife Barbara at home.  John is a care pastor at one of the Greenville mega churches and as such doesn't have a whole lot of time to go through the rigmarole of the long tolerated and accepted practice of going to a restaurant, waiting to be seated by a host (or hostess), waiting for the waiter (or waitress) and then the wait for the waiter (or waitress) to take his order, then wait for the food to come, and then to wait for the bill and then (the best part) to leave a TIP for this outdated and inefficient way of grabbing a quick bit for lunch.  And we all know if one eats at a restaurant, dining alone is frowned upon because you're taking up a WHOLE TABLE that could be used by more people thus creating a bigger bill and leaving a bigger TIP.  Not that there is anything wrong with traditional dining.  Hey, if that's your preference, then go for it.  But for me (and my brother), most times we just want to get something good to eat at a reasonable price and not have to endure the inefficiencies of our traditional dining mode routine that is so costly in our time and money.

Comfy open dining area - no host to seat you - seat  yourself

So yesterday I stopped at our new Panera.  It was everything I expected.  As soon as I walked in I could see the choices of eats before me.  I was greeted by a pleasant young woman behind the register waiting to take my order.  I already know what I wanted....black bean soup.  AH YES!

Panera Bread drive thru - I love it!

I placed my order and got my receipt and then waited for my number to be called out.  While waiting I looked around the interior of this new Panera Bread restaurant.  Yes, over there in the corner was a SINGLE WOMAN with her laptop having breakfast (I was getting my soup early, not for breakfast).  No one was giving her dirty looks or asking her "Are you done yet?"  No push, no rush.

Drive Thru menu - "We're not in McDonald's anymore Toto!"

I saw plenty of empty booths. I saw places where I could sit and not be bothered while I had lunch ALONE while reading my magazine, paper or even on my new Macbook Pro laptop computer.  Now since I do live at a resort and this is The Summer Season, I don't know how practical it would be for me to linger at this Panera but I can definitely see me here in the off season.  I like to eat at home but sometimes I like to get out and mingle with the folk.  I hate always trying to arrange someone to go with me to eat.  Bill doesn't like to eat out.  Most of the people I know are either too busy to eat out with me or can't afford to eat out with me, or just don't like to eat out with me (which I am in denial about, who wouldn't want me for a dining companion, I mean really)?  One thing I gave up on a long time ago is trying to arrange my schedule to coordinate with someone else's schedule for a simple dine out for lunch or dinner.  Hey, I do things spontaneously.  No one I know does things spontaneously. That's just the kind of guy I am.  I am TOO MUCH  for some people.  I know that.  Deal with it.

So here we go folks.  I now have an additional reason to hang around a few more years.  The addition of Panera Bread has just made my life easier and more enjoyable.  Now all I need Down Here (Lower Slower, Sussex County, Delaware) is a Wegmans.

My late Mom shopping at Wegman's (she is in the white shirt) - 2005

I hate to say this but I don't think we will ever have a Wegman's here in Lower Slower because it would put too many of our inefficient, overpriced and outdated supermarkets out of business just like they did in Downingtown, Pennsylvania where this picture was taken and where I used to live.  One year after Wegman's open their store, four local supermarkets who long dominated the local market and held us hostage, out of business.  That's what needs to happen down here in Lower Slower, competition.  Way overdue.