Paul Ryan - A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Liar Paul Ryan and his lying bill to end Medicare

Yes, Paul Ryan is hot.  He has a handsome face (albeit weak lips - can't be perfect).  Those eyes!  To die for.  A lustrous head of thick black hair.  What's not to like?

Folks, this is the man who would end Medicare as we know it.  This is the man who wants to cut the tax rate for the richest among us from 35% to 25%.  His plan will turn Medicare into a voucher system.  Yeah, I could see my Mom shopping around for insurance when she 85 years old, could hardly walk and suffering from dementia.  Yeah, I can see that multiplied thousands and millions of times over.

Don't let this man's good looks fool you. Last year he introduced his bill to drastically cut taxes for the rich and put the burden on middle class taxpayers and eliminate Medicare as we know it.

Of course he got a big blowback (pun intended).  So what does Representative Ryan do?  He lies.  Then he waits a year and doubles down and introduces the SAME BILL yesterday.

Don't believe his lying eyes.  And to think some actually think this liar is a potential presidential candidate. What planet do these people live on?

You're on the WRONG ROAD Mr. Ryan.  And yes, we SEE the wedding ring.

Yard Work - I Need Help!

Jordan - my possible new help to maintain my yard

I love yard work.

From the time I was a little kid growing up on 120 Washington Avenue in Downingtown, Pennsylvania I wanted my own yard.  I envied my fellow classmates who lived in houses that had their own back yard.  We lived in a second floor apartment in a large, cheap ($22 a month) apartment building in the white trash poor section of town.  That apartment building is still there and it is still the white trash poor section of town.

120 Washington Avenue, Downingtown, PA - no back or front yard here

I got my taste for yard work from mowing the lawns of some of my customers on my paper route.  I also pulled weeds from my Great Aunt Grace's garden.  I've always loved working outside, with the fresh air and my hand in the warm earth.  I can still remember the fresh spring time smell of buttercup flowers as I was on my hands and knees pulling dandelions out of my Aunt Grace's backyard garden.

Of course I did have my taste of working in the garden which was my father's corn field.  My brothers and I spent many a hot summer day hoeing and weeding eight to twelve rows of corn.  But I never considered this yard work.  I considered this WORK.  Besides, it was for my father and it didn't count.  Slave labor.

My father and brother John at my pop's corn field - see how thrilled John is?
After we pulled our required rows of weeds, we were treated to ice cream.
Bribery always sometimes works with kids.

Our family didn't get our own house with land until the summer of 1958.  I was 16 years old and soon to enter my senior year in high school.  I was too caught up in my pubescent adolescent years to have much interest in yard work at that age.

After high school I joined the Army.  When I got out of the Army it was back to apartments again for me.  Ub 1964 I met Bill (my spouse of 47 years this year) and, of course, moved into his apartment in New Jersey.  After a year or so of that apartment me moved into an apartment in Philadelphia, PA.  Still no backyard or front yard for me.  Finally, in 1979 we bought a small row house in center city Philadelphia and I finally had my own backyard, albeit a very small postage stamp back yard.

Our Philadelphia "backyard" - not really 

We lived there for eleven years but I never had much satisfaction from that backyard which really wasn't more than a location for potted plants.

It wasn't until we moved to East Brandywine Township outside of Downingtown, PA in 1980 that I finally had my own "backyard";  all 6.875 acres of it!  Needless to say, I had plenty of backyard then and had a wonderful, interesting and time consuming time.  Remember the old adage "Be careful what you wish for?"  Well, I had more than enough yard work.  Me, the deer, and the bugs, and everything.

Our East Brandywine Township backyard - too much - salad for the deer

Fast forward to today.  I have the ideal suburban backyard.  Our backyard now is real.  It is in the back of the house.  I can plant whatever I want to and don't have to worry about deer eating my plants nor neighborhoods kids picking my flowers like I did in Philadelphia.

So what is the problem now?  I am too old for all this work!

This morning as Bill and I were driving back into our development back from morning errands, I saw a young man working outside my neighbor's house.  Now I've been thinking about this for quite a while.

HOW ABOUT HAVING SOME HELP?

Bill getting ready to decapitate the Pampas grass yesterday

Yes!  I need help.  I admit it.  I'm seventy years old now and after spending four hours yesterday cutting back one Pampas Grass plant, I decided I needed help.  Preferably the help of a young, muscular, healthy man.  Hey, you can't blame me can you?

I called my neighbor and asked her if I could approach her Landscape Guy (one has to be careful about things like this one does).  She said "Sure!"  I took a walk up and introduced myself.  I was greeted with a firm (masculine) handshake.  Good first step!  The young man (most men are "young men" to me these days) introduced himself to me.  I explained my situation.  He said he would be glad to come down to my place and check out my "situation" (don't even go there).

So here I await.  I have succumbed.  I am now the Old Man who needs help maintaining his property.  Has it really come to this?  Oh yes it has.  This is just another milepost on my Journey In Life.

Some people go to the opera, some go to the races, other go on a cruise.  Me?  I find my solace working in a pastoral backyard with just the birds, plants and fresh air for company.  I don't have to deal with the vagaries of people and their whims and demands in this sylvan setting.  Only me and Nature.  The way it was meant to be.

Senior Prom - 1959

Jeanette and Ron - DHS Senior Prom 1959

Yes folks, that is me,  I'm the guy on the RIGHT SIDE of the photo. The girl on the left side of the photo is my date, Jeanette.  The occasion was my Senior Prom.

This morning I was talking to my long time friend Larry from my school days.  We're in the process of writing out autobiographies (like anyone is interested besides us).  We were talking about the delicate process that we undertook to select who we would ask to our respective senior proms.  We had to take a lot into consideration being the cowards that we were in dealing with rejection.

Hey, when you're seventeen years old, with all that peer pressure, one has to be very careful about asking a girl to the senior prom.  The worst thing was to be turned down because EVERYONE would know.  And I mean everyone.  Of course I had the  extra  problem of being gay and keeping that a big secret.  I did want to ask a girl who was expecting too much (if you know what I mean) AFTER the prom because I certainly wasn't going to deliver.  I had to ask someone who was pretty and well liked but not too pretty or popular because she would almost have to reject me because she had her reputation to consider too.

Larry and I of course are getting a big laugh about this now.  He did the same thing as I did.  He asked a  girl who was pretty but not too pretty and one who wasn't likely to turn him down.  I did the same thing.  Look at the picture of my date and you can see her waist size isn't exactly 18 inches.  Yes, Jeanette still had some baby fat she was nice.  In fact she was delightful, just no sexual chemistry.

Now here is who I really wanted to ask....my fellow classmate Don.

You know the funny thing about this?  Today he probably would have went with me.  Not back then in the Fifties though.  No way, no how.

Don is gone now, one of my several lost opportunities due to my sexual immaturity and lack of self confidence.  Don was a farm boy back in that day confused about his sexuality as many of us were during our teens especially in the Fifties when there was so little information about differences.

Oh Don, if I knew then what I know now I would never have turned you down.

Do you think we would have made a good-looking couple at our Senior Prom?

Quiet

Sometimes I just like quiet.  How about you?

When I was young, I always had music blasting through the house or apartment.  I couldn't get enough.  Nowadays, all is quiet at Casa Tipton-Kelly.  Sometimes I can hear polka music playing in Bill's working area in the basement.

When I had this house built, I installed speakers through the house in the ceiling.  Do I use them?  No.

I don't know why I changed.  Maybe because I'm older now, I like a less stressful living area.

We live in the Sussex County, bayside just where the curve begins

That's one reason why I moved to Delaware.  The pace is slower down here in the third and southern most county in Delaware.  Sussex County Delaware is often referred to (affectionately of course) as "Slower Lower."  That means we have a slower pace and we're the lowest (geographically speaking) county.

A few nights ago I asked Bill if he wanted to go for a ride.  We often take a ride up to Route 16 and the Primehook National Wildlife Sanctuary.  We also take a ride down Oyster Rocks Road right outside our development here to the Broadkill River.  The video at the beginning of this post was taken that evening.  Usually it's very windy at the Broadkill but that night all was eerily quiet.  The Broadkill River was smooth as glass.

The Broadkill Beach upper left - one of our favorite spots in Delaware

We live in the development towards the upper left, on the right side of Rt. 1.  I work in Lewes which is to the right, the curve of geography which is Cape Henlopen.  I would rather be no other place on earth.

Listen carefully and you can hear the song of an evening bird.  This is the music I prefer to hear these days.

Soldier Dogs

Today's post is not about me folks.  Instead, today I have a pictorial post of soldier dogs.  These are the dogs who are such an integral part of our mission in Afghanistan.  The photos speak for themselves.

Now don't you feel better after viewing these heart-warming photos of our canine heroes?


Have a great day!

Aunt Mabel

Aunt Mabel and The Twins Bud and Sis 1941

Today my cousin Barbara Keehn called to tell me that her mother, my aunt, died this past Sunday.

My Mom (left) and Aunt Mabel at her surprise retirement party from Pepperridge Farms

My Aunt Mabel was ninety years old and in failing health.  She and my Mother worked together for twenty-four years at the frozen foods (layer cake) division of Pepperridge Farms.  Yes, they were the Lucy and Ethel of the conveyor belt line.  The stories they used to tell when management sped up the line.  Just like Lucy and Ethel at the chocolate factory.

My Mom and ten paternal aunts at the Tipton Family Reunion 1960
(My Mom is second from the right in the back row and Aunt Mabel to her right with arms folded)

I had many aunts (my father had ten brothers).  Aunt Mabel was one of my very favorites.  When my brother and I were young and lived in the center of Downingtown, almost every Sunday our parents would take us "out in the country" to visit Ed and Mabel (we never called them "Aunt Mabel" and "Uncle Ed.")  Mabel was from the South and to her dying day had that melodious, infectiously happy Southern accent.

We started our Sunday visits early!  This was about 1948 - I'm 3rd from the right

The Tiptons gather at Ed and Mabel's place in the county for a Sunday outing (I'm in the first row fourth from the right with arms folded - my brothers are to the right of me) - 1951

What I remember most about Aunt Mabel was her home made southern biscuits and fried chicken.  Oh my God!  I've never had better since.

Ed and Mabel had five children.  The two oldest were fraternal twins "Bud" and "Sis."  Real names Edward, Jr. and Joan.  They were twins but as different as twins could be.  Bud was very dark (reflecting our grandmother Hester Lewis's Indian ancestry gene pool) and Sis was blonde.

Me with Sis and Bud and our cousin Louise - we all graduated in 1959

My cousins Sis and Bud with Mabel and Ed after their graduation 1959
I am the same age as Bud and Sis

The other three children were Barbara, Janet and the youngest Linda.

Barbara was my brother Isaac's age.  Janet was my brother John's age.  And Linda, well Linda was the baby of the family.  Sadly she died was too young about ten years ago.

Me (skinny with arm on hip) with my brothers John and Isaac and cousins Bud (arm around me) and Janet
After a Summer Sunday of hard play - 1951

Yes, almost every Sunday up until I was about twelve years old we used to go over to Ed and Mabel's in the country and have the best time enjoying a kind of life that we could never have on the cement sidewalks where we lived in a second floor apartment at 120 Washington Avenue in Downingtown, PA.  Oh how I remember running in open farm fields on those late summer days playing hide and seek with my cousins.  Some of the best memories of my childhood that I will never forget.

However, as sometimes happens our families gradually grew apart.  We would see Ed and Mabel and The Kids at the family reunions and sometimes at the family funerals.

Me, Mickey and Aunt Mabel at Disneyworld -2000

In 2000 I won a four day trip for two to Disney World as a recipient of the President's Award for Best Guest Service Representative of the Hampton Inn.  No one was available to accompany me on the trip.  My Mother had a suggestion.  She said "Mabel would love to go!"  I asked her and sure enough, my Aunt Mabel was up for the trip!

Aunt Mabel getting ready to eat at the Luau

We took a plane out of Philadelphia International Airport and landed in Orlando, Florida.  We were met at the gate by our driver (the thrill!) bearing a sign with the name "Tipton".  First class!

We had an absolutely wonderful time, even getting to meet Mickey himself!

Sad to say, that was the last trip Aunt Mabel made.  Her health started to fail a few years after that.  I am so glad I asked her to go on this jaunt to Disneyworld.  She was a joy.  Always a hearty laugh and never an unkind word about anyone.

Aunt Mabel and me at the Epcot Center, Disneyworld - First Class! - 2000

This past October I held a family reunion.  Aunt Mabel couldn't make it, she was too ill.  She was being cared for by her son Bud, my cousin.  Our cousin Tommy Tipton hadn't seen his aunt in a while so I suggested that he visit her.  This might be the last time he would see her.  I'm glad he did.

I do not know of anybody in my family who didn't like and love her.  We always left smiling after visiting Aunt Mabel.

If there is any solace in her passing it is this, she is now in heaven with her longtime co-worker my Mother and I bet they're having one heck of a time on that layer cake line!

Mabel Ruth Tipton 

  |  

Mabel R. Tipton of Downingtown Mabel Ruth Tipton passed away on Sunday, March 11, 2012, at her home in Downingtown. She was the wife of Edward Tipton, with whom she shared 58 years of marriage before his death in 1998. Born in 1921 in Lansing, N.C., she was the daughter of the late Virgil and Bessie Thompson. In 1985, she retired from Pepperidge Farm, where she worked for many years in the frozen foods department. She is survived by a son, Edward Tipton Jr., of Downingtown; daughters, Joan Salluzzo, of Lancaster, Barbara Keehn, of Downingtown and Janet Drozdowski, of Waldron, Ark.; seven grandchildren, fourteen great-grandchildren and one great-great grandchild, all of whom brought her great joy. Her daughter, Linda, preceded Mabel in death in 1998, as did granddaughter Kimberly in 2005. A funeral service will take place at 11 a.m. on Thursday, March 15, at the James J. Terry Funeral Home, 736 E. Lancaster Ave., Downingtown, where family and friends may call from 9 to 11 a.m. Interment will be in Union Hill Cemetery, Kennett Square.www.jamesterryfuneralhome.com.

Published in The Daily Local on March 13, 2012

Four fabulous Moms - my Aunt Miriam, Mabel, my Mom and Aunt Teresa - 1945

Aunt Mabel and my Mom - 2008

Thoughts About My Pop

As the oldest child and son of Isaac Walter Tipton, Sr., I find that I am turning into my father.  Not only do I now strongly resemble him in physical appearance, I have many of his same mannerisms.

The photos displayed on this post are of my father at age 70.  I am 70 years old now.  My father died in 2000, at the age of 80.  He did not have one gray hair on his head.  His beard was white, as is mine but no gray hairs.  All of his ten brothers didn't have gray or white hair either.

I have some gray hair on the sides of my head and a few gray hairs on the top of my head.  Those gray hairs come from my Mother's side of the family.  My grandfather George Hadfield had steel gray hair.  I'll never have a head of solid white hair which is just fine by me.

I was never close to my father.  More his choice than mine.  My good friend said my he was always afraid of my father.  I told him I was always afraid of him too.

I've written about my relationship with my father before in previous blog postings so I won't repeat myself now.  However, the one thing I will never forget about my father is that whatever I did, it wasn't good enough for my father.  He mocked me the whole time I was growing up.  By the time I left home at 18 years of age to join the Army, I thought I was the biggest loser in the world.  I matured a lot during my three years in the Army.  I found out that I wasn't the Worst Son In The World.

A few years after my father died my Mother told me that Pop was surprised that I completed a three year tour of duty in the Army. I couldn't  believe what I heard.  She said "Pop didn't think you would make it through basic training."  I was totally confused.  I told her "I had problems in basic training but I was always going to complete basic training.  I never considered the option of quitting.  Never."  

I wasn't angry when I she told me this news.  I felt sad.  Sad that my father thought so little of me that he didn't even consider the possibility that I would succeed.

Me (center) with my brother John (on left) and my father - 1962

After my father died, my Mother gave me a picture he had in his wallet.  The picture is below.  I did not know he had this photo of me which was taken on the firing range at Ft. George G. Meade, Maryland in 1962.  This must have been the original photo because I had no other copy.  I had forgotten about it.

I'm on the right

Who knows, maybe he was proud of me after all.  It's a shame he never told me.