Bound To Happen

The Coolspring Presbyterian Church, Sussex County, Delaware

It was bound to happen.  Sooner or later I would be at the same cemetery taking photos of headstones and my Find a Grave.com competition would show up at the same graveyard.  That is exactly what happen just about an hour ago.

This afternoon I decided to take a ride on the backroads and look for the Coolspring Presbyterian Church Cemetery.  I haven't visited this cemetery yet.  Most of the burials are recorded on Find a Grave.com but many of them did not have photos.  I thought this cool fall afternoon would be a nice time to visit another one of these many old church graveyards that are so plentiful here in Sussex County.  Also, I had checked and my main competition here in Sussex County apparently had not visited it yet.  Ah ha, I saw an opportunity to get one step ahead of him.  Competition, it is good.

Another one of these backroad church cemeteries here in Sussex County, DE

Well, I had a heck of a time finding this church and the cemetery.  I must of drove through every remaining black rural section of Sussex County.  After about an hour of driving around, I noticed that I was going over some of the same roads.  So I backtracked and started all over again.  That worked!  I found the Coolspring Presbyterian Church.  Actually, it is only a short distance from my home.  Isn't that always the way?

I pull in the church parking lot.  I get out and survey the graveyard.  Just the kind I like; it was quiet and off the main road.  However I did hear some yokel playing a radio too loud but that didn't bother me too much.  I am in redneck country after all.

After about ten minutes, I see a little red car pull up and a guy give me a LOOK.  Uh oh, trouble.  I'm ready to explain what I'm doing there.  He comes up to me and says "Hi Ron!"  Why it is my Find a Grave.com competition!  He asks me how I'm doing.  I was puzzled at first because I didn't think he knew I had a health situation.  He must be reading my blog.  Uh oh.  I've been saying some unkind things about him on my blog.  But he doesn't refer to that but says to me "You look good."  I'll always take a compliment.  I explain to him that I'm scheduled for an appointment with a urologist next month but in the meantime I'm trying to get as much done on my grave photos as possible.  He askes me "You're not here to fulfill a Find a Grave photo request are you?"  I told him that I didn't know there was one (I missed it again) but I wasn't.  He said he was and started to look for the grave.

My Find a Grave.com competition fulfilling a photo request

While he was looking I talked to him and found out he actually is quite a nice guy.  He explained to me why he became involved in Find a Grave.com.  It was through Find a Grave that he found his long lost half-sister after 38 years.  I missed the detail on that drama but he was very thankful that he found his half sister alive.  He said taking photos for Find a Grave.com is his way of paying back.

So here's the deal folks,  from our conversation it was obvious he has been reading my blog.  He asked about my health.  How else would he know that?  He didn't refer to my blog postings where I think I made some unkind references to him.  Did I ever feel like an ass.  Sometimes karma brings situations like this around to make me realize that I do go overboard sometimes with my bitching and complaining.  It is obvious to me that I was being very unfair to my fellow Find a Grave contributor.  I thought I was the only Game in Town.  And here comes competition that got me twisted out of sorts.

Actually I am appreciative of him for giving me competition.  I have been working furiously the past two weeks to post all the photos of headstones I've taken the past three years.  I've been sitting on them, posting them when I felt like it.  Now that I have serious competition I had to up my game.

I also owe my competition (who shall remain unnamed out of respect for him, he didn't even want me to take his picture but I snuck one anyway) an apology for saying unkind things about him on my blog.

So if you're reading this my friend I apologize for any unkind things I may have said about you on my blog.

A Short Work History

Me at work at Mellon Bank 1986 - Philadelphia, PA

As the title of my blog says "Retired in Delaware."  Actually, I'm not retired. What I am retired from is my slave labor job that I had at banks for forty-one years.  That job was to bring in money and establish a certain lifestyle for myself.  It was also to earn enough time to secure pension payments to supplement my Social Security income.  That I did by working at a total of five banks during the forty years from 1965 to 2006.  I now receive three bank pensions.  Not a whole lot of money (only bank presidents make a whole lot of money) but the three pensions together supplement my modest Social Security payments which in total keep me and Bill afloat in our home and the lifestyle (modest middle class) that we prefer.

Me at work now at the local "boutique" hotel

As regular readers of this blog know, I work part-time at a local boutique hotel.  All the "boutique" means is that they charge a LOT of money and only have a few rooms (22 rooms and 2 suites.)  I began working part-time at hotels in between one of my banking jobs because I got bored collecting unemployment insurance.  Ironically, my first job out of the Army in 1963 was working for the Pittsburgh Hilton as a night auditor.  I only worked their three months before I left Pittsburgh because I was homesick for the Philadelphia area and got a job as an accounts payable clerk at Lipsett Steel Products, a scrap metal producer in Coatesville, PA.  I had that job for 2 1/2 years until I got a job at Girard Bank in Philadelphia n 1965.

Me at work at Girard Bank 1982

I worked at Girard Bank which became Mellon Bank for the next 22 years until I was job eliminated.  I was making too much money and could be replaced by someone who made half my salary.

Me at my job as Data Entry Unit Supervisor at Fidelty Bank, Philadelphia, PA 1988

My next job was at Fidelity Bank, which was just up the street from Mellon Bank.  I worked there for seven years before I quit.  This time I wasn't job eliminated but one of the ones left behind.  I was doing three jobs and getting burned out.  I quit.  No job.  My next job was pulling weeds for a very nice businesswoman who had a small estate.  She called me her "gardener" but actually all I did was pull weeds and lay mulch.  I made $8.45 an hour. I loved doing what I was doing but I couldn't meet my bills.  I was living off of my savings.  I saw an ad in a local paper for a trust operations manager at my hometown bank.  I applied and got the job.

Me at my part-time job at First Financial Bank in Downingtown, PA 2001

I loved that job.  I ran the whole trust operations department for this small bank.  I went home for lunch.  I loved my job.  I didn't have to commute to Philadelphia nor pay the high city wage tax for my banking job.  People liked me.  That was until we got a new department head.  We got along fine for the first two weeks until one day I introduced him to Bill.  He asked "Who is Bill?"  I told him he was my "partner."  Well folks, that was the beginning of the end of my job at my local bank.  Within two weeks time I was called into his office and presented with a Written Warning for job performance.  To make a long story short, my new boss was homophobic (something I found out later quite by accident from another person he had done the same thing to when he worked at a Philadelphia bank) and started a campaign to get rid of me.  I lasted about three months until I was fired.  That was when I was unemployed and collecting unemployment insurance.

Me my job at the Hampton Inn, Lionville, PA 1998

After a few weeks of feeling like a bum collecting unemployment insurance I saw an ad in the local newspaper at the Hampton Inn for a night auditor.  I answered the ad and got the job.  The night auditor position eventually turned into a front desk job during regular hours.  Staying up from 11 pm to 7 am is rough.  Try it sometime.  5 K runners have NOTHING on me.

Me at my "day-job" at First Financial Bank - I left everyday at 4 for my job the hotel in the evening

After about a year of working at the hotel another local bank got in contact with me and wanted to know if I could work for them part time.  I said I could but I also wanted to continue working for the hotel because I liked that job.  I worked both jobs for about two years.  I was able to save a lot of money because I rarely had time off to spend money.  I would go to work at the bank from 8 am to 4 pm and then work at the hotel from 4 pm to 11 pm.  It sounds like a strenuous routine doesn't it but once you're used to it, it isn't so bad.  It's almost like running a marathon race.  You get a second wind.

Me getting my "second wind" at the Hampton Inn after working at the bank during the day

I continued that routine for 2 1/2 years, turning down the offer from the hotel to become the assistant general manager and manager several times.  I didn't want to be on call 24/7.  Eventually a new assistant manager was named and she felt threatened by me.  I had been at the hotel so long and knew so much that most of the returning guests would ask for me.  I trained all the new front desk clerks.  I was the "Go To" person at the hotel.  Betsy (her name) did not like this.  She started sabotaging me.  Life became very difficult.  It got to the point where I did not enjoy working at the hotel anymore.  I didn't need the two jobs. I quit and worked only at the bank.  I worked on a consulting basis which really only means that I paid both sides of my FICA tax.

Trust Operations Manager 2003

I continued to work at the bank until I put my house up for sale in 2006. By this time I was collecting Social Security so I quit my bank job to concentrate on selling our home in Pennsylvania and building a new one in Delaware.  Of course I ran into problems because the housing market was just beginning to nosedive in 2006.  I had to get another job to keep our heads above water until I could sell our Pennsylvania house.  I got a job at the Residence Inn by Marriott.  After only a few weeks working at the Residence Inn, I sold our house.

Me at the front desk at my "short job" at the Marriott Residence Inn 2006

We moved to Delaware.  I took about three months to unwind.  Paying an equity loan on our Pennsylvania house and mortgage payment on our new Delaware house and depleting our funds almost did me (and Bill) in.)  Other than a terminal illness, this had to be the worst time of our life.  But we survived.  After three months I was getting cabin fever.  Plus I now had a mortgage (as a result of selling our Pennsylvania house for a lot less than I had planned on selling it for) to pay.  I had to get another job.

Front Desk Manager - the Hampton Inn 1999

I made the rounds here in the Summer Capital of Washington D.C. and applied at five hotels.  The only hotel that I got an interview hired me.  Something interesting that I didn't realize until a few months ago, any job that I ever personally interviewed for I always got.  I didn't realize that until I happened to meet a man who checked in the hotel who interviewed me over the phone for a banking job over 25 years ago when I lost my Mellon job.  He didn't hire me.  I kidded him that if he had interviewed me in person he would have hired me.  Yes, I am THAT charming.  At least I make a good first impression.  What goes on later once you get to know me is another whole story that we won't go into here.

Well, I got the job where I work now.  Part-time, sort of.  I just got a call yesterday could I come in tomorrow, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday.  Well, yes I can.  I'm only supposed to work two days a week, Wednesdays and Thursdays.  However, a month rarely goes by that I'm not asked to work extra.  Either filling in for someone who is on vacation or sick.  Happens a lot.  I'm not too bad these days with working an extra day or two but this six days in a row.  I am going to be knocked out after this is over next Monday.  I'll sleep well.

Old Ron here is pushing seventy Big Ones now. I have to tell you that I'm not used to working five days in a row let alone six days in a row.  And to think that I used to work like this for over forty years.  Hard to believe.

No complaints from me though. I've often thought of retiring COMPLETELY but the thought hits me with panic.  Not that I don't have enough to do, because I do.  In fact I don't have enough hours in the day to do what I want to do.  But I have the need to "go to work" at least a few days a week.  Plus, the extra money helps.  I can do special things like buy gifts for friends and have expensive subscriptions like Ancestry.com (which just renewed at $299 per year, thank you).

Most of my friends and peers no longer work.  They are retired.  Lately I have been giving considerable though to retiring completely but then I back away.  Ever since my Mom pushed me into a job as a paper boy when I was in third grade, I've been working.  That was in 1951 and this year marks sixty years that I've worked non-stop.  I guess I'm just programmed to be a worker bee.

Perhaps the best job I ever had - Paperboy from 1951 to 1956

Note:

Although I do have a lot of pictures, I actually don't have any for the time I worked at the Pittsburgh Hilton, at the scrap steel yard, pulling weeds on an estate (you think I would have pictures of me doing that?) and the local bank (which I won't name because I was fired from there).  One of the few times I missed taking pictures.

"Don't Ask, Don't Tell" Ends

Rainbow over my neighborhood 6:15 pm Sept. 17th, 2011

Late yesterday afternoon as I was out in my backyard enjoying the cool breezes and welcome respite from the rain, I noticed that a beautiful rainbow had formed an archway into our development.  I quickly ran into the house to get my expensive SLR camera to record this treasure of nature before the rainbow disappeared.  I just made it and that is the picture that you see at the beginning got this blog.

This morning as I opened up my neighbor's newspaper (which I am collecting for them while they are away on a short trip), I noticed that the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy was officially ended last night.  Was it a just a coincidence that the rainbow presaged the ending of this horrific and stupid policy?  I don't think so.

"Don't Ask, Don't Tell" 1960 Ft. Devens Mass (two gays in this picture, my friend Bob on the left and me on the right)

As regular readers of this blog know, I am gay (gee, who doesn't know that?)  As you may or may not know, I was also in the Army for three years from January of 1960 to January of 1963.  I joined the Army to escape the draft and also to get a job because I couldn't afford to go to college and I needed a job.  I thought joining the Army was the best way to fulfill my obligation as a citizen of this great country (yes, I did feel it was my obligation to perform a service for my country) and perhaps learn a skill which I could use when I got out.  As it turned out, joining the Army was perhaps the best decision I ever made in life life.  That decision continues to reap me benefits.  In addition to getting a college degree with the help of the G.I. Bill, I have lifetime medical coverage which I have used and continue to use to this day.  The Army has literally saved my life.

Private Ronald Tipton 1960 -right out of Basic Training

However, when I joined the Army I knew I was gay.  I've known I was gay since I was four years old.  I know that because that was the age of my first awareness and I knew I was different a full  year before I went into first grade in 1946.  Of course at that time I was "the only one" in the world.  This was the Forties and Fifties folks.  No TV, no Internet, no movies.  The only "gays" I knew were either swishy queens in the movies or dirty old men hanging around public restrooms for a peek at those men using the urinals.  I knew I wasn't either ONE OF THEM, so I didn't know what I was.



Of course by the time I joined the Army at 18 years old I knew I was a "fairy".  The word "gay" in those days meant you were having a good time.  I know I wasn't having a good time.  In fact, I was about as backwards as you could get sexually.  I didn't even masturbate.  I didn't even know the world.  Sorry if I'm grossing out any of my readers here but I'm just telling your like it is.

Me and Bob horse playing during break at our Ft. Deven's ASA schooling April 1960

I'm then tall one carrying a guy on my back - Bob tried to piggy back our friend Dick E. but Dick collapsed under Bob's heft.

I could write a whole book about my experiences hiding my gayness during my three years in the Army.  In fact I might do that but I'm not going to do it here.  What I do want to say is that during my three years in the Army, I was selected for the Army Security Agency.  I worked at the National Security Agency at Ft. George G. Meade, Maryland.  Yep, I was a spy.  I didn't ask for it.  I was selected.

Me (on the left in the back) with my fellow classmates/soldiers Ft. Devens, Mass April 1960

I had a top secret clearance.  I didn't ask for it.  It was assigned to me.  Of course HOMOSEXUALS were not allowed in.  I was a HOMOSEXUAL.  Homosexual is what faries like me were called in The Day.  If they ever found out I was a HOMOSEXUAL,  they would take away my clearance and I would get kicked out of the Army.  Of course I didn't want to go that route so I stayed in the closet.  However, many of my fellow soldiers were victims of the routine witch hunts that were held at Ft. Meade and NSA.  Once you lost your clearance you were restricted to the barracks until the paper work was processed to discharge you from the Army.  This process usually took about six weeks.

Me and my friend Jim H. on the firing range Ft. Meade, MD 1962 - both gay

When someone lost their clearance and went from a professional job analyzing communications intercept at the NSA to cleaning latrines and moping the barracks floor, we all knew what happened.  "He got a Section 8."  Surprisingly enough, no one every harassed these guys.  But they were a pariah and no one spoke to them.  If you did you would also be considered a HOMOSEXUAL and liable to lose your clearance.  You see, back in The Day as it is today, many of the old Timers are SCARED TO DEATH of HOMOSEXUALS.

Me at home weekend pass 1962 - I was promoted to Specialist 5th class and assistant platoon sergeant - imagine that?  A gay platoon leader.  The world didn't fall apart and the Army survived. 

Why did one lose his clearance once it was established that he was a HOMOSEXUAL?  It was because our government, in all it's ignorance, decided that a HOMOSEXUAL would be subject to blackmail and thus divulge state secrets.  Of course there has never been a documented case of a gay person ever being blackmailed to divulge a state secret but that didn't affect this lame brain policy of blatant discrimination.  Of course on the face of it one can see this is a classic Catch-22.  The Army (and all the services) have an official discrimination policy against gays so they by default would be subject to blackmail.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  Even back then when I was just a dumb assed 18 year old I knew this was a STUPID POLICY.

I wanted to make a career out of the Army.  I didn't because I knew I was gay and I knew sooner or later that would come out.  It's hard to keep an 18 year old gay man's hormones in check for twenty years.  I liked being in the Army.  I liked the regimented lifestyle.  I liked my friends.  I liked my job.  I didn't stay in because I knew I would be living a lie for twenty years.

Me in civilian drag at the White House 1962 - Ft. Meade is only a few miles away from Washington D.C. - a lot of us guys would frequently visit the surrounding tourist sites during our weekends we didn't go home - we would go in Civilian Drag - not that I still have the Army Demeanor - at Parade Rest - love the crew cut.

I could have converted over to civilian status of my NSA job.  I was a communications intercept expert.  It was a good paying job.  I liked the civilians I worked with.  It would have been a fabulous career.  In fact, if I had stayed with it I could have been one of these rich gay Washington D.C. retirees that populate the Rehoboth Beach/Lewes/Milton area where I live now.  I could dining at one of the many expensive Rehoboth Beach gay restaurants like the Sting Ray instead of the Rehoboth Diner.  Man, I missed my chance big time.  I could have been one of the D.C. In Crowd.  But that's another whole story.

Anyway, when my enlistment ran out on January 27th, 1963, I breathed a sigh of relief and departed from the Army and the National Security Agency.  I was even offered at job at the Social Security Administration in Baltimore by a straight female friend who met at one of the Service Club dances but I declined that job also because I knew that HOMOSEXUALS were not allowed to work for the government.

On January 27, 1963 I made the one way trip from Ft. Meade to my home in Downingtown, Pennsylvania.  Thus began my long Journey which is where I am now.  Again, I won't go into the details here (that's for my memoirs if I ever get around to writing them) but basically I left home for Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and came out officially as a gay man.  Why did I go to Pittsburgh?  A gay friend of mine (he was in the Air Force) had left Ft. Meade a few months before me.  He lived in Pittsburgh and offered me a place to stay until I could get a job.  I got a job at the Pittsburgh Hilton hotel and came out.  Yes, I came out in the early spring of 1963, way before it was fashionable to do so.  Was it dangerous?  You bet.  Again, this is material for another time.

So the stupid assed policy of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" ended officially last night.  It ended with a whimper.  Oh I'm sure there are still plenty of dinosaurs in the military that think this country is going to go to hell in a hand basket.  Won't they be surprised when they find out that life goes on as usual.  Oh sure, there are those who have a legitimate concern that the military will be inundated with swishy, drag queens mincing around the barracks.  It won't happen folks.  That's for the Uncle Toms  some of the local gays here in Rehoboth Beach who put on their drag shows of the visiting touristas.  You know, the tourists come to a beach resort well known to have a large gay population.  They expect the drag queens imitating Judy, Liza and Bette (God, can't they do anybody else?)  The touristas "tolerate" the local gay population as long as the local gays know their place.  No holding hands while walking on the boardwalk, and definitely NO KISSING IN PUBLIC.  Leave that to the straight folks.  But again this is a subject for another posting.

The official ending of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" won't affect my me at this time of my life.  My "autumn years" so to speak.  But hopefully it will affect positively that young man who was much like I was back in the Dark Ages of 1960.  He (or she) will have more freedom of choice and can live their life without the fear of being ostracized just for being who they are.  Hopefully, we can put behind us the last form of legalized discrimination and move on to what is important in this country, freedom for one and all, including gay men and woman.

Below some of Martin Luther King's quote that apply:

A lie cannot live.

A right delayed is a right denied.


Almost always, the creative dedicated minority has made the world better.

Change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle. And so we must straighten our backs and work for our freedom. A man can't ride you unless your back is bent.

Freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed.

He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.


History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the 
strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people.

Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.

Never forget that everything Hitler did in Germany was legal.

Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.

The time is always right to do what is right.

The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.

In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.

The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people but the silence over that 
by the good people.

We have guided missiles and misguided men.

We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.

We must build dikes of courage to hold back the flood of fear.

We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools.

When you are right you cannot be too radical; when you are wrong, you cannot be too conservative.

Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. This is the interrelated structure of reality.

Me today - can you imagine me wearing this Civilian Drag back in The Day?

The Flies

A few days ago a cold front rolled in here at Casa Tipton-Kelly.  An interesting occurrence has happened as a result of the drastic change of temperature.  Prior to the cold front we have had an almost unending days of hot and humid weather.  We have had hot and humid all summer but very dry.  However, lately we have had the Perfect Storm in that we have also had a lot of rain.  This combination has produced a LOT OF FLIES. When the cold front rolled in Thursday night, the flies didn't like it.  They retreated for warmer climes.  Unfortunately that "warmer climes" happens to be our garage.

I'm sitting here at my computer typing this blog posting and choking on the bug spray that Bill has sprayed in the garage to kill all those flies.  He said he didn't have a choice since they retreated to his "workshop" for warmth.  In this neighborhood most of the neighbors go in and out of their house through the garage.  I don't think I ever entered our house through the front door.  The only time the front door is use is for the Halloween trick or treaters (and that is coming up isn't it?) and the occasional Fed Ex delivery.  Our neighbor Bob also uses it when he delivers some of his freshly caught and friend fish for Bill.

So Bill is working out of the garage this morning with literally hundreds of flies clinging to ceiling of our garage for warmth.  When I go in and out of the garage I have to take my fly swatter with me to swat away the flies.  I'm a bleeding heart liberal but I have no absolutely no compunction in killing as many flies as I can.  I'm no Albert Schweitzer who cups them in his hands and releases them outside (yep, he did it.  Look it up on Google).  I am ruthless in dispatching flies.  Just call me Ming the Merciless.

Bill says he can't work with all those flies swirling around him.  Poor Bill, he looked like a Somalian refugee this morning.  So he's spraying, and spraying, and spraying.  I'm choking...and choking and...yes...choking.

Life in southern Delaware, this is one of the rare downsides.  Flies.  BEGONE!

Life in Gayberry, DE

The Primitive Baptist Church in Cades Cove. Tennessee
Photo taken by me during our trip south this past spring

We're going back folks.  Bill and I are making another trip south.  While updating my Find a Grave account, I noticed that a lot of those family graveyards in the hills of western North Carolina where my father was born and left when we was ten years old (the family moved to Pennsylvania) are unrecorded.  Those family cemeteries are just waiting for me to put them on the map.

The past week or so I've been busy mightily updating all my photos that I've taken of cemeteries here in Sussex County and Pennsylvania.  I now have serious competition here in Sussex County covering the cemeteries for Find a Grave.  Coincidentally it is another gay man, one who just happens to work for the governor of the state of Delaware.  I don't know how he has the time to visit all these cemeteries and take his thousands of photographs and post them and the dates of birth and death to his Find a Grave account but he is doing it.  He is about a thousand grave ahead of me.  I have dallied too long.  He has also beat me to the punch of posting his photographs of graves that I have already taken photographs of.  I sent him an e-mail that I had already taken those photographs but he ignored it and posted his anyway.

Of course he did, he's that kind of really competitive guy.  He has to be the star in anything he does.  I know. I've heard all about him.  I had a chance to meet him at his Summer Bash which is actually a birthday party he throws for himself (and raises funds at the same time - remember we are the FUND RAISING CAPITAL OF THE EAST COAST).  I didn't really meet him but I saw him pass by and tried to get his attention.  Way too busy....being the CENTER OF ATTENTION.

I've sent him a couple of e-mails but he has deigned not to respond.  Once he did respond to a chat session on FB but I think once he checked out my local gay membership credentials (I have none), I was jettisoned from his contact list.  Here in Gayberry, DE (AKA Rehoboth Beach/Lewes/Milton) there is a strictly adhered to gay social pecking order.  You think the DAR is picky?  Man oh man, they have nothing on Gayberry's Gay Society.

Actually, do I care?  Not really.

One thing is for sure (at least I think it is), when Bill and I are roaming through the hills on the border western North Carolina and east Tennessee, we'll be in friendlier territory.  That was one of the places I considered retiring too (Ashville, North Carolina) but I decided against it because of the perceived hostility towards two men living together.

One of the main reasons I made the decision to move to this area of southern Delaware was because my longtime best friend who just happened to be gay has lived in southern Delaware for over thirty years.  Over the years I have visited him many times and looked forward to spending more time with him.  However, one of the cruel ironies of fate, he now has Alzheimer's.  His body is here but his brain isn't.  Sad, sad.  He's gone.

Bill and I stay mostly to ourselves here on the outskirts of Gayberry.  We have a few gay friends who normal men and aren't into dressing in drag or the stereotypical gay activities like breaking out into Broadway show tunes. Both Bill and I missed that gay requirement. That's probably why we don't fit in the local gay social elite.

In little over a month I'll be 70.  Bill will be 83 next week.  We are really tired.  I started cutting back on my social interactions this past month.  Bill always has.  We really don't want anyone visiting us anymore.  Been there, done that.  Bill asked me to close his FB account today.  That I did.  I went through my FB account and Hide every "Friend" whose posts are either just fund raising, political rants, or snarky comments.  Like I said, I'm tired of dealing with these people who really aren't my friends.  I just keep my FB account to keep in contact with the younger members of my extended family and the few genuine friends who seem to care about me.  The rest of them, gone.

The road into Cades Cove Tennessee, May 2011
Bill and I love this country

Mug Shot Thursday

I-95, "Kentucky Style"  

Okay folks, as promised here is my second "Mugshot Thursday".  Man oh man did we ever hit the Motherload this time!  

Just joking folks and no disrespect to the Amish men below who were arrested yesterday in Kentucky because they failed to display the bright orange triangle on their buggy because they don't believe in bright colors.  Now here's the question folks, don't the law enforcement officers of this area of Kentucky has something better to do than harass members of a religious sect?  Just saying.

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Family Reunion

Taking the reunion sign down from last year's reunion

Who says I'm retired?  I just finished addressing the invitation to the Tipton Family Reunion.  I hope I didn't' forget anybody.  One has to watch that one doesn't leave someone off the mailing list or else they will feel offended and hold a grudge and Tiptons (most of us anyway) are famous for holding grudges.  We're like elephants, we never forget a slight.  I know I don't.

This year I'm going to try and stay out of the food aspect of the region.  In past reunions that I have organized it seemed that most of my time was spent securing tablecloths in the windy venues where we usually have our reunions and making sure we had enough paper plates, sodas, utensils, and hot dog rolls.  I started these family reunions just for the simple fact of having a family reunion and reconnecting with family members.  Each generation grows farther and farther apart and after a while we lose all contact.  By holding these family reunions, I hope to keep family members closer or another way of putting it, keeping our tribe intact.

I also use the family reunions as an opportunity to record family members by taking group and individual pictures.  In past reunions I've been so busy with the nitty gritty detail of running the reunion that I had little time to talk or even to take pictures.  This year I think I have it solved.  My blogger friend Mark H. will also be attending and using his talented photography skills to record the event.

Lots to do around here always.  And I thought I was retired!