Trump Indicted!

 

Yesterday was one of those days I will always remember when I heard historic news. 

The historic news yesterday was Donald J. Trump became the first American ex-president to be indicted for criminality. 

I was out back in our yard about 5:30 PM laying a wheelbarrow of mulch when I heard my iPhone vibrating in my pocket.

I put my shovel aside and pulled off my garden gloves to pull my iPhone out of my pocket. I saw the call was from my former school classmate and longtime lifetime friend Stuart M. from Boca Raton Florida. The same Stuart who is seriously considering moving from the United States to Denmark to get away from the mess that our country is in now with the cowardly, venal and corrupt Republicans who continue to support and enable The Criminal Trump. Stuart has friends in Denmark and had recently returned from a three month sojourn in Denmark and Europe. He asked me if I wanted to accompany him to New York City to take a picture of former president Trump doing a perp walk. He sensed my puzzlement and then said "You haven't heard? Trump was indicted today." 

No, I hadn't heard which surprised him because he knows how I am almost continuously plugged into the news with my Twitter account and TV background noise when I'm in my house (MSNBC, none of that trash Fox News ("Faux") in my house.

I told him I didn't hear but that I was glad to hear this news. 

Finally! In my lifetime I'm actually going to live long enough to see The Criminal Trump be held accountable for at least some of his criminality. 

Are we a nation of laws or are we not? 

Are we a nation where no man (or woman) is above the law? 

I was seriously beginning to doubt that concept until yesterday.

Last night, for the first time in a long time I had a very restful and satisfying sleep. 

Today the venal and cowardly Republicans who have enabled The Criminal Trump are squealing like stuck pigs. They don't even know what the charges against Trump are but they wailing "Political persecution!" "Banana republic!" "Witch hunt!" They are so craven. So willing to sell their souls to a soulless monster just to stay in power. They all took an oath to the Constitution but apparently the Constitution means nothing to them. Only their selfish quest for power and money fuels their loyalties. They sicken me. 

Yesterday will be one of those days when I will always remember where I was when I heard this historic news. 

We have a long way to go before a jury passes judgement on The Criminal Trump, who has led a lifetime of crime and almost gotten away with it. 

Let the cowardly Republican pigs continue to squeal but I will go to bed tonight with the knowledge that maybe there is hope for our country yet. 

My Heroes - Part One - My Mother

 

Me with my Mother about 1980

At this time of my life (the end or my "Final Act") I have been doing a lot of reflection of my past eighty-one years of life. I've decided to write about those who have had a positive influence in my life. I was considering writing about those bad people who have not had a positive influence but decided against going that route. They are best forgotten, fading in the mists of time. But those kind folks who helped me in my life, I want them remember forever. So here goes. 

There have been many people who have been kind and helpful to me in my life but there is a handful who have profoundly influenced me and also, by their kind and caring actions, help to provide me with the wonderful life I have had.....so far. I plan to live a few more years but if I should die tomorrow, at least I will have recorded for history these fine people who saw the good and potential in me and helped me towards leading the right path. This will have to be a multiple series of blog posts, one for each hero.

First and foremost in my life was, of course, my Mother. 

My Mother wasn't perfect but to me and my two younger brothers we will always remained convinced that we literally had the Best Mother In The World. I remember how shocked I was when in my twenties I was talking with one of my friends in a gay bar and he brought up how awful his mother was. At first I couldn't process what he was saying. I just assumed everyone had a great mother like my brothers and I had. Apparently not. That was the first time I realized how blessed my brothers and I were to have a mother such as we had. 

Our Mother didn't have an easy time growing up. Her mother died in childbirth before my Mother was two years old. She was the youngest of five children. She had a "Cinderella" childhood, wicked step-mother and all. Philandering and abusive father. The whole package. She married my father when she was only sixteen to "get away from that mess" as my father said to her when he proposed to her. She was still in high school. They ran off to Elkton Maryland to get married one weekend. The following Monday she returned to her classes at school. She was a senior in high school. Her father found out she got married over the weekend and, of course, beat her. She gathered up her meager belongings and she and my father moved to a rented small house in the country. No running water, indoor plumbing or electricity. But she was away from "that mess" as my father called it. 

Betty Hadfield - 1939 - high school student

My Mother, although she had not the most desirable childhood growing up experience, always managed to project a happy demeanor. She never wore much makeup, she didn't need to because she had a natural beauty. People always remarked on her smile. "What a beautiful smile Betty has!" My Mother also had a beautiful head of hair which was always remarked upon. I like to think I inherited both her smile and lush brown hair. My father was blond as were both of my younger brothers. Of course I was my Mom's favorite although she would never admit that fact. She always said she loved "all her boys equally" which actually she did. But everyone knew I was the FAV. 

Me with my Mother and two younger brothers Towerville,, PA about 1949

She actually wanted a girl. She even had a name picked out, "Louise", her middle name. She told me she wanted to give a little girl a good childhood, not the one she had. Of course she had three boys. Hey, do you think that's why I'm gay? Because she wished she had a girl? Oh well, we'll never know will we? All I know is from my earliest memory I was attracted to men in a "special way", more so than women but that's My Story and this is all about my Mother. 

You know when I began this blog post I was going to write about all my heroes then I realized that writing about my Mother would take up a big blog post, in fact I could write a book about my Mother. 

My father carried these two pictures in his wallet his whole life. I only came into possession of them after he died. He loved her his whole life even though he strayed a bit when he was younger. She kept our family together. Never once did I ever hear him raise his voice with her or become angry with her. He worshiped her. The jalopy pictured at the bottom was the car she met him in. She was on a double date with her friend Edie Lemon. My father was actually Edie's date. My Mother's date was Charlie Hanck. But It was my father's car. But when my Mother saw my father drive up she told her girlfriend Edie "You get in the back with Charlies, I'm riding up front with HIM!" And Edit did and the rest is history. She knew she met her Match for Life. The year was 1940.

My parents' first home. Down a dirt road in Mineral Springs, PA. No electricity, indoor plumbing or running water (pump outside). Rent ten dollars a month. That is my Mom standing in the road pregnant with me. She was finally away from "that mess" of her childhood home. Little did she know she was going to enter a whole new "mess" of poverty with three little boys under five years old with a husband who was a cross country truck driver during the war. She often told me that she didn't have enough food for us or the multiple dogs my father was keeping. Finally she had to turn the dogs into the pound because she didn't have enough food to feed them. 

My very first picture. I do not remember being here! Looks like I was riding high. 

My father with my pregnant (with me) Mother during one of his layovers from his World War II cross country truck driving job. My father wasn't in the service during the war because he was classified a "4-F" because of a head injury during his childhood. When he was nine years old he and his brothers were chopping wood with an ax at their then home in the mountain hills of western North Carolina (hillbilly country, which my father was his hole life, a hillbilly) and the ax blade flew off and became imbedded in the back of his head. He was rushed to the Johnson City Hospital in the back of a donkey cart (no cars in those mountains then in 1927). He survived but had permanent brain injury. He was healthy enough to contribute to the war effort though by driving a truck during the war cross country to deliver supplies. During those trips he had "encounters." I probably have half brothers and sisters that I've never met. But that's another whole story. Real life is always more interesting than made up Hollywood drivel. 

Then came that day in November of 1941 that yours truly made his grand entrance into this world. See that look on my face? It's almost saying "What am I doing here?" Thus I began another one of my lives. Oh yes, I believe in reincarnation. Only thing that makes sense to me. Especially now that I'm coming to the end of this existence on this planet. Maybe I'll be reborn on another planet the next time. Again, a subject for another blog. 

Mom's "handful" of three boys, each a year apart. Two little blond boys who took after their father and one little dark haired boy (me) who took after my Mother. We were affectionately known as "The Three Terrors".  Of course I was the ringleader. Sadly my youngest brother died this past year. He's waiting for me in Heaven. At least that's what he told me before he left (he was a pastor). 

We never had much materially growing up but we did have something that is immeasurable, the selfless love our Mother. Her first priority was always my father but we were close behind. She raised us to respect authority (something that I question now) and to always be honest (we didn't let her down, not even close). She also forced me to take typing which I will be forever grateful but at the time I didn't want to take Typing in high school because "only girls" took Typing class. I'll always remember what she told me "You're not going to waste your time in Study Hall (she went to the same school I went to), you're going to learn a skill that you can use the rest of your life". I fought it the first year of Typing (got a D) but my second year of Typing I excelled eventually getting an award as "The Best Typist" of my class (72 WPM on a manual typewriter). She was right, I've used my typing skills (including now) the rest of my life. I only wish she had forced me to take piano lessons. I would have loved to known how to play a piano. Again a subject for another blog post. 

Another really beneficial thing she did was get me a paperboy job when I was ten years old. Of course I didn't want that job, I wanted to hang out at the local drug store like my peers but she said "You're getting a job!" That job, that I had for five years, was perhaps the best job I've ever had in my life. It not only sought me responsibility but gave me an opportunity to earn my own money. I never received one penny in allowance from my parents while many of my peers received 25 cents a week. At that time I felt "cheated" but now I realize what she did by getting me that paperboy job was so much more valuable to me than an easy 25 cents a week allowance. I delivered papers seven days a week. Five days after school and on the weekend Saturday in the afternoon and Sunday (the worst) in the morning (the papers were so heavy, sometimes I had to make two trips). All kinds of weather of course. Toughened me up. She knew what she was doing.

Me (seated) with my Mother and brother Isaac (standing). I'm devouring a hoagie (25 cents each then!) at our rent free apartment on Boot Road. My Mother was more of a mother to me and Isaac, she was our best friend. She was one of the gang. She also wanted us to be educated. Checkout that encyclopedia set behind us. She couldn't afford to send us to college (although I wanted to go very badly), she couldn't even afford that encyclopedia set but she got it anyway from one of those traveling encyclopedia salesmen on a monthly payment billing. Those curtains? Plastic. What we lacked in material possessions we had in love and security. My Mother more than made up for my father's indifference to his children. I don't think he ever wanted children. He didn't like me, I think that was because I was my Mother's favorite and he was always very jealous of her. Again, another whole story for another blog post. Life is so complicated isn't it?

My mother and father 1986 Hibernia Park, Coatesville, PA

My mother and father were married sixty years. He died in 2000 from lung cancer. He smoked his whole life. He was told to stop smoking but he didn't. He was stubborn. 

My Mother died ten years later in 2010. She was never the same after my father, her husband died. 

During her lifetime, as I mentioned earlier, her husband was always her first priority. Always. I tested her at times but she never wavered. Nor should she. She took care of him, even when he couldn't work anymore when he was fifty-two years old. She got a job at Pepperridge Farms with her sister-in-law Mabel (my father's brother's wife). She got that job to support our family. I will always remember that after a long day at work in the layer cake frozen food conveyor belt line (a "Lucy and Ethel" job), she would come home and prepare a sit-down dinner for her husband and three sons. At that time I didn't think about it, it just was the way it was. The woman always made the meals. Now I realize she went over and above. 

Mom receiving her 25 year award from Pepperridge Farms

When my Mother worked at Pepperridge Farms we always had a ready supply of layer cakes and other Pepperridge Farm products. Strudel was her favorite. I wonder if they even make that apple strudel now.

She and my Aunt Mable were best friends and had so much "fun" working at Pepperridge Farms. The picture below is from my Mother's retirement party which Aunt Mable surprised her. 

I miss both of them so much. My Aunt Mable was also a very happy person. In fact I took her with me when I won a trip to DisneyWorld in 2000. Both of them are gone now and the world is a little less cheerful because of that fact. 

After my father died, my Mother went downhill.

Mom at 85 years old in 2008

It was almost like she had no purpose to live any more. She lived at the family home with my divorced brother Isaac for several years but eventually she needed more care so we moved her to my other brother's home in South Carolina. She didn't want to go but he had a mother-in-law apartment which his mother-in-law lived in for 29 years. He was a care pastor so he knew all about caring for an elderly parent. 

She didn't smile as often now. I will always remember the last time I saw her. It was about six months before she died in 2010. Bill and I visited my brother and his family in Greenville, South Carolina, where she had her own apartment. They took good care of her but she wanted to go to her own home. She was mad at me. When I went in to see her she was lying on her bed softly crying. She had her little suitcase packed, ready to leave with me and Bill to go back north to Pennsylvania. We couldn't take her. I was going to say "Goodbye" to her but didn't want to disturb her even more so I left quietly without saying anything. She died six months later. She was eighty-seven years old. 

I am sorry she died sad but she had a good life. She was the best mom that me and my brothers could ever have had. 

She was my first hero. 

I will never forget my beautiful Mom as long as I live.  

"Pop" with the love of his life, my Mom

More Hollywood Casting Lies

 

Continuing with my previous unpopular post about Hollywood casting lies, there is a new trend I'm noticing in Hollywood casting deceit. 

Now I know I'm dipping my big toe in dangerous territory during our politically correct of "woke" culture but what's up with casting black actors into white roles? I'm all for diversity, diversity that has been lacking for far too long in the film industry, but what's the deal with the new series "Great Expectations?" I haven't watch the new series, nor will I, but I have seen the previews. Who knew there were that many blacks living in England during Dickens time. Maybe, but I don't think so. 

Most if not all of the current movies these days cast minority actors in roles other than domestic servants are criminals. Good! It's about time Hollywood. But please, don't go overboard and cast minority actors in roles that are obviously white. A black Hitler? 

While Hollywood produces much entertainment, which is part of our culture of recreation, they do tend to go overboard. Just as in the past ALL the roles were for white people, heterosexual white people, now sometimes they tend to go overboard to prove that they are not racist. Of course I realize I will probably be called racist by some who read this post because I even dare to address the elephant in the room. 

Lately there has been a spate of movies about African warrior queens and other black themed movies. What's next? Casting a white actor as an African slave? 

We live in a multicultural society. There is beauty in both black and white and everything in between. Even hillbillies. Yes, I said "hillbillies", which is my paternal heritage. My father was a real hillbilly from the hills (Pisgah Mountains) of western North Carolina. My Mom's line is from Pennsylvania Quakers. She even remembers her aunts and uncles still talking with "thees" and "thous" when she was a child. What does that make me? "Half a hillbilly" as my father used to call me. I'm also gay and white. Talk about being out of favor these days. There is one thing I can be sure of, Hollywood will never cast a hillbilly as "Pip" in Great Expectations."

Three of my hillbilly uncles - two boys on far right my Uncles Bruce and Tip and far left my Uncle Sam. Wringer washing machines always on the front porch. Photo take around 1938

Hollywood Casting Lies

One of my pet peeves is Hollywood casting where they cast actors who are well  beyond their teenage years as teenagers. What? There aren't any teenage actors?

Present I'm watching the Netflix series "You" which is about a serial killer. Of course it's ridiculous but it is entertaining. "Black comedy" is I think what they call it. 

I'm watching Season 3 now where they introduced a new character. The character's name is "Theo" and he is supposedly the teenage (19 years old) son of the next door neighbor of "Love Quinn", a married woman with a small baby and the wife of serial killer Joe Goldberg. She's supposed to be the "older" woman that "teenage" Theo is attracted to. Even though the actor who plays "Theo" has his hair combed bang style and wears a hoodie,  I immediately wasn't buying him being a teenager. So I did a little research and sure enough he is the actor Dylan Arnold, who is 29 years old! The actress Victoria Pedretti plays the character "Love Quinn." She is supposed to be the "older woman" who "teenager" Theo is attracted to. In real life she is a YEAR YOUNGER THAN DYLAND ARNOLD. She is 28 years old!What the fuck Hollywood casting director? Who do  you think you're kidding? 

I watch a lot of movies and this is one Hollywood "trick" that has always bothered me, casting older men as teenagers. "Theo" is no more a teenager than I am and God knows I'm a long way from being a teenager. Maybe in my next life.

These Hollywood casting directors think they are so clever by casting older actors as teenagers. This is one viewer who isn't buying the deception. Besides, the actor who is playing "Theo" isn't even likable. He's creepy. This must be one of those "Timothee' Chalamet" force feeds. Apparently some producer, man or woman, has the hots for them and assumes we, as the Great Unwashed, will buy their deceit.

This dude is 27 years old but tassel the hair and presto! Timothee' is a teenager!

Some Things I've Learned In My Lifetime

 

Photo taken 2000

Get ready folks, this is going to be one of those in depth, introspective blog posts. 

As I near the end of my life or as the celebrities like to say when they're accepting their awards "my journey", I can pretty well see who and what matters in life. So here is my list in no particular order of who and what matters in my life and lessons learned.

Most many people are not what they seem. 

Oh how I learned this lesson the hard way. I have to admit that most people in my life are good. However, there are those who let me down big time. Some of those stories I have previously written about in my blog posts but lately I've decided not to write about them any more. Suffice it to say, when I needed their help, they ditched me for their own gain. Some I remained friends with but on a different level, more like an acquaintance. 

Respect yourself. 

If you don't respect yourself how do you expect others to respect you. Yes, I know this is a song lyric by the Staple Singers but it is true. For the longest time I didn't respect myself due to a failure of parenting by my father. Thank goodness I had a good mother who taught me right from wrong and not to ever lie and to respect authority. Maybe the "respect authority" thing has changed since I've grown more mature but she did teach me the correct basics. That was a considerable accomplishment on her part because she had a horrible childhood herself, having lost her Mother to childbirth before she was two years old. Her father was a philanderer and basically useless as a father figure. 

Go with your instincts.

Almost always when I have gone with my instincts I have chosen the correct path. Of course there were a few exceptions but wishful thinking doesn't do it, instincts do. Oh the stories I could tell of the disasters and near disasters when I went against my instinct.

Be kind, always.

This comes automatic to me. Again, the way my Mother raised me. Those times when I wasn't kind, and yes, even the saintly me at times hasn't been kind, it's come back to bite me in the ass. Yes, you can be kind. Don't be a fool but be kind, even to those you don't like and even despise. For instance I despise with an almost immeasurable hatred of Trump the Criminal and those cowardly elected Republicans who continue to empower Trump because they are afraid of Trump and his supporters. Those Republicans are the Quislings of our generation. They are to patriots but very small people who put their selfish interests before our country and their constituents. Believe me, Trump will eventually get what he deserves and so will those Republicans. As for the supporters of Trump, they're beyond help. There will always be a segment of our population who ware easily brainwashed and or just plain prejudiced against anything or anyone who is different from their cloistered lives. I understand why they are afraid of change and Nancy Pelosi but really folks?

Be content and happy with what you have.

Again, as my Mother often reminded me and my brothers when we were growing up and didn't want to finished those mushy string beans on our dinner plate "There are people starving in China." I still have trouble throwing food away. The only way I can justify it is by telling myself it one way or another that food will end up as waste by going through my body or out in in the compost pile. Still, I think if my Mother was alive today and saw the amount of food I still throw away she would be mortified. 

Some of the happiest memories of my lifetime are those days growing up in the Forties and Fifties when we were literally dirt poor. Of course we knew we were poor but most everyone else was too. Kids have a way of enjoying play wherever it be down by the railroad tracks or just in the street. No fancy play dates of extravagant birthday parties for the Tipton Boys on Washington Avenue, Downingtown, Pennsylvania. We never missed what we didn't have. The one time we came close was when we were out exploring one hot and humid summer day and followed the sounds of laughter and came upon a summer camp with a swimming pool for the city kids (Philadelphia). As we looked down from our nearby wooded hill location of those kids (all black, I often wondered weren't there any white inner city kids?) frolicking in the massive swimming pool of the camp, we wondered why we couldn't be there. We actually LIVED in the fabled "country" where these inner city kids were brought for a summer camp. I never dipped my toes in a swimming pool until I was twenty years old at the gated swimming pool at the NCO club at Ft. Meade, Maryland when I was in the Army. I never saw the shore (Atlantic Ocean) until I was twenty-two years old. So much for the "privileged" suburban white kid life. 

Other than that one blip of reality, our years of growing up in the poor white trash section of Downingtown was pretty happy. I really can't complain. Other than missing jumping in a cool swimming pool during those hot muggy summer days, we had a fabulous childhood. We had plenty of friends, and always something to do. I can never remember once being bored. A special treat for me was every now and then I got to spend a week or two in the "county" with a relative. Oh how I remember those days. I will write about those experiences in a future blog, if I haven't already.

Always strive to be the best at anything you do.

We all have talents. Every one of us has something we do really well. Maybe we would like to have a talent in another field but we don't. It's just a fact. I'm good at organizing and pushing papers around. Nothing sexy about that "talent" at all one would say. True! But that's what I'm good at. And my adult career that how I ended up after initially drifting. Some other good people in my life saw that talent in me and gave me job opportunities which I took advantage of. I will be forever grateful to them for their kindness and giving me the opportunity for a good life, which I have had. There are talents I wish I had like artistic talent. Drawing pictures or playing a musical instrument. It was not to be. I'm tall but I can't play basketball. I was a klutz and almost always the last one to be chosen when they picked for teams in gym. By the way do they still do that in high school gym class? Talk about a demoralizer. One time the team captains picked their teams and NO ONE choose me! They all ran out on the field and I was left standing there by myself. Which brings up my last very valuable piece of advice.

Be resilient. 

No matter how many curve balls have been thrown at you. 

No matter how many times you have been humiliated. 

No matter how many times you have been discounted, disrespected and disregarded; get up and come back stronger than ever. 

At times I've wondered why I did and I keep coming up with the same answer. "What was the alternative?" To give up? Never. NEVER!

Always remember that each one of is totally unique. There never was nor will there ever been anyone quite like us on this earth or in this life. 

I've always believed in myself. I didn't need some artificial man made "God" in the sky to help me through life. I mean no respect to those who are follow man made religious customs, if that give you comfort, more power to you. I am truly happy for you. Some of my best friends are "religious" and they are good people. But that path is not for me.  I don't need those smug self righteous Christian folks proselytizing me to "save my soul". I respond to those useless entreaties by telling them "I'll taking care of myself, you take care of yourself."  I've seen too many Christian hypocrites in my lifetime to care. I've always believed that if there is a God (and that is very debatable) he (or she) resides within this soul that inhabits our physical body. 

The best thing in life is love.

We all need food, water, and shelter in life. We also need protection from harm. But to me the most rewarding aspect of life is love. If  you are lucky enough to find true love in life, cherish it. 

There are different kinds of love. I'm not talking about a mother's love for her offspring. I'm talking about connecting with one (or more) human beings during your lifetime. To love and be loved is the absolute best thing in life. More than fame and fortune. Think of all those famous and rich people who could never find true love. That is one thing that always amazed me. People who have looks, fame and fortune and could never find true love. Maybe it is better to be of average looks and modest income and talent, and a nobody. That's me. All of those factors and guess what folks? I have found love. In fact I found it twice! 

Life has been good to me.  I am so thankful. Maybe someday I'll find out who sent me here. But if I never do and when I die it's just oblivion, a big black dark nothing hole. Well, one thing I know for sure. I couldn't have asked for a better life than I have lived for the past eighty-one years. So many wonderful memories that I relive over and over again in head. Especially now at the end of my life as I review this wonderful life that Someone has granted me. And when I die, which I surely will do one day, and if there is a Heaven, as I cross the Rainbow Bridge,  I will greet all those who have passed before me and I will ask "Wasn't that something?"

Penthouse Condo 112 King St E PH04, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada

Pat is selling his penthouse condo in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. Why is he selling? Same reason I sold our beautiful house in Pennsylvania, TAXES!

Most of the people who live in our development here (fifty-seven homes) moved from the high taxes of the surrounding states of Delaware like Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York and Maryland. 

Pat bought a smaller home in Hamilton, a city which he loves, that has a much lower tax bill. Now perhaps he can afford to live his retirement in comfort without the necessity of having three part-time jobs to pay his bills. Yes, Pat has THREE part-time jobs.  

If you want to buy Pat's condo, asking price is $999,999.00. A bargain!

Bill Progress Report

Bette Davis as Margo Channing in "All About Eve"

Bill's hospice healthcare nurse made her weekly visit yesterday. We had a long talk. 

Good news and (of course) bad news.

The good news is that Bill's leg wound has completely healed. No more daily cleaning of his leg wound and applying new dressing. The twice a day egg custards that I am feeding to Bill obviously has greatly helped his healing process. 

The bad news is that Bill is showing signs of early dementia. He's having trouble looking for words. Common every day words. This frustrates him as well as me. Having a conversation with Bill is gradually getting more difficult. He will ask me a question and when I give him an answer he's forgotten he's asked me a question. At first this was funny but it's not funny anymore. Again, we'll manage the best we can. I try to put this latest development in perspective. Again, it could be worse. For instance I finally was able to get in contact with my longtime friend Lar (since 3rd grade). Larry was diagnosed with ALS over seven years ago. His decline has been gradual over the  years but he was still able to get around. No more. He can no longer walk. He is totally bed bound. That means he is totally dependent on nursing care which he has at his home. Of course I asked him "How do you go to the bathroom?" You know the answer, he goes in his Depends.  Then is nurse has to change him and clean him up. Full cycle here from baby to old age. Thank goodness Bill isn't THERE yet. I'm not sure if I can care for him that much. Bill can still manage to go to the bathroom on his own. But then Bill has trouble swallowing which Larry doesn't. Bill also is blind whereas Larry's vision is fine. I don't know which is worse. And me? I have trouble walking. I hope I can stay healthy enough, long enough to care for Bill until he make his final exit. 

As Bette Davis famously said "Getting old isn't for sissies!"

Bette Davis - at the end of her life

Recovery

 

All is well here at Casa Tipton-Kelly after yesterday's run out of patience blow-up.

As promised the DirecTV guy came by at 8 AM this morning, right as he said he would. And what great service while he was here! Such a huge difference from Comcast who always acts like they're doing you a favor by being a monopoly in the area. How refreshing! He even gave me very helpful information that I didn't think to ask for. I think this new emphasis on service has to do with.....wait for it.....COMPETITION. There is MORE than one cable/satellite service company in the area.

 A few years ago AT&T bought DirecTV and I expected the service to go downhill the way Verizon and Comcast did. You know, you can't get a live person, only bots and if you should be so lucky to get an actual live person you'll get someone from the Philippines with an accent. Anyway, not to go off in that bitching route, this morning the service was great and now Bill's TV is working. He'll watch it for a while then give up on it. We've been through this before but that's fine, I needed to get that TV hooked up anyway. I plan to use his bedroom as a private theater should I survive Bill. Oh, that sounds harsh doesn't it? I mean should I outlive Bill which I sometimes doubt because my my health issues. I think I'll probably die of a heart attack while doing my Morning Walk through out development here in lovely southern coastal Delaware. Yesterday I had to stop a few time because of chest pains. Such is the life of this eighty-one year old man.

In about a half an hour Bill's hospice nurse is scheduled to arrive for her weekly visit to check Bill. She was supposed to come yesterday but she had a couple of emergencies. We're all "T's" here today. The DirecTV serviceman was "Tyler". Bill's hospice nurse today is "Tara." 

Actually, yesterday's little confit was beneficial in that it forced me to clean up all those medical boxes of equipment that was accumulating in Bill's bedroom. His open leg wound has healed now so we don't need all those dressings that hospice sent to us. I put them aside, in case we need to use them in the future. Glory be to God, we don't need them now though. 

Did I tell you that Pat put his opulent, luxurious, downtown Hamilton, Ontario penthouse up for sale? He did. This past Sunday he purchased a teeny tiny house a few blocks away. His new house is only just over six hundred square feet. He can live that way, not me though. With our finished basement we have over fifty-two hundred square feet here at Casa Tipton-Kelly on .98 acres of a luxurious, landscaped, over flow daffodils, verdant oasis. I ain't never moving from here. This is where I die. Oh, I'll visit Palm Springs but I end My Journey here.

Caregiving 1.0

 Not a good day caregiving today here at CAsaTipton-Kelly folks.

This morning I woke up with stuffed sinuses again and a runny nose. No breaks though. Bill still needs to have someone get him up and prepare him for the day. Doesn't matter whether I'm sick or not, I forge on. 

This morning I was "greeted" by an angry Bill. He now wants me to reconnect the TV in his bedroom. I had it disconnected from our satellite TV about three years ago when he lost his sight. He rarely used the TV anyway. I was wasting the seven dollars a month that DIRECTV charges for the extra receiver. Now he wants to "watch" TV because he has to wait "so long" for me to come down to his bedroom and get him ready for the day.

One thing Bill is not is patient. One thing I am is very patient. I cannot count the times I've had to caution Bill to "be patient" when waiting for an appointment or any other event, even trash collection or daily mail delivery. Bill is not patient.

I don't want to hook up his TV again because I know he'll just screw up the remote control and I'll have to straighten that out every time he does it. 

HE CAN'T SEE THE REMOTE CONTROL.

These caregiving days I have to ration out my energy as my energy slowly seeps away. Yesterday I slept from 3:30 to quarter to seven for my daily afternoon nap. I was knocked out. Usually I only sleep for about an hour. This is my recharging time. 

Right now I'm waiting for the weekly visit from Bill's hospice nurse. I dare not tell him the time she said she would arrive because if she's later than her announced time he will get agitated and say "Where is she?"

Bill tries hard and for the most part is very accommodating but he is spoiled and I have no one to blame but myself. I put myself in this position. 

Initially I refused to activate his bedroom TV because I knew this would only add to my caregiving chores but I gave in as always and as he knew I would. The technician is coming tomorrow to hook his TV up to the DIRECTV satellite.  And here we go. Now every morning when I go down to his bedroom to get him ready for the day he'll say "The TV isn't working." Of course with Bill as it is with my friend Larry M., it's never them, it's the "TV isn't working."

Life could be worse. I could be living in Ukraine in a collapsed apartment building. Or even worse, I could be living in Florida.

Have a great day everyone!

Potato Salad

 

Ron's Potato Salad

This morning I made another batch of potato salad. 

I thrive on this potato salad. 

Funny thing though, growing up I didn't like potato salad. 

There was a lot of food I didn't like growing up that I like now. It isn't because my tastes have changed, it is because I didn't like the way my Mother prepared certain dishes. 

Growing up in the Forties and Fifties, I assumed that's the way potato salad, stuffed cabbage, spaghetti and many other foods tasted, bland at best offensive at worst. 

My Father fished and hunted a lot. I hate fish. I hate any seafood except maybe tuna salad and that has to be white albacore tuna. 

I don't like squirrel or rabbit. Both often had remnants of buckshot in the flesh. You haven't lived until your teeth unexpectedly crunch down on buckshot. Lovely, just lovely. 

My father especially liked squirrel stew with dumplings, squirrel skull included. Seriously, he liked to suck the squirrel brains out through the squirrel's empty eye sockets. 

Fish, all those tiny little bones in trout. Flounder was a little better.

Now my Mom's potato salad; she made it very dry with onions and green peppers. I like onions and green peppers but not in potato salad. 

Green string beans. I hated them when growing up. I just assumed all string beans were cooked to almost mush like consistency. And "Pop" especially like sour string beans. Imagine my delight in discovering green string beans eaten al dente.  Crisp and flavorful, having only been gently steamed a minute or two. My brother Isaac still likes the mush string beans, he can't understand why his son Isaac III likes lightly steamed string beans like I do. I tell him "Ike, I can now taste the flavor of the string bean." He still doesn't get it but then he a MAGA guy. Their tastes are different (to say the least). I never liked Kook-Aid either.

Let's talk spaghetti. My Mother didn't like garlic. I never tasted garlic until I was in the Army. I actually had spaghetti that tasted good. When Mom made spaghetti she would cook the spaghetti and then put it in a bowl dry and put a big spoonful of bland garlic less spaghetti sauce on top then mix it all in. Both my brothers liked this bastardized version of spaghetti so much they would have the leftovers the next day for breakfast by frying the spaghetti in one of Mom's well worn cast iron skillets. YUM!

Perhaps the one fish exception was my Mom's salmon patty cakes. She made the best patty cakes which I've never been able to duplicate. It was always a treat when she made us kids salmon patty cakes, which we didn't have often because canned salmon was too expensive to buy often.

If Mom was alive today I doubt she would like my potato salad. My recipe (and it is my personalized recipe) is more like potato/egg salad.

For one thing I don't boil the unpeeled potatoes first then cool them off and peel them. I find preparing the potatoes that way cooks them unevenly. The outside is overdone, almost like mush and the insides are almost uncooked. Oh I know, "Slower boil", but I don't have the patience for that method. Instead I peel and cut the raw potatoes ahead of time and then put them in lightly salted water and bring them to a slow boil, watching that the pot doesn't boil over. I only boil them abut five to seven minutes, or until the peeled and cut potatoes are tender which I check frequently with a fork. Be careful not to let the potatoes cook too long or else you'll have mashed potatoes.

After I determine the potatoes are tender I drain them in a colander and put the colander on a plate and outside on my back deck to cool down. In the meantime I have been boiling four large eggs.

One the potatoes have cooled down dump them in a big bowl and mix in one diced celery stalk. Also mix in either celery seed or caraway seed to your preference taste. Lately I've been using caraway seed. I used to put a tablespoon of vinegar but I stopped doing that because the potato salad tends to separate and get watery when storing in the refrigerator more than three days. When I make a big batch of potato salad like this I make it to last a week. I have a couple of dollops of this delicious and unique potato salad with both my lunch and dinner. 

Now for the main ingredient of my potato salad, mayonnaise. I don't hold back on the mayo. I use Kraft's mayonnaise. Oh I know everyone and their sister says Hellman's is the ONLY mayo to use but I beg to differ. I find Kraft's the ONLY mayo to use. And for God's sake, DON'T USE MIRACLE WHIP.

I don't know what that is but it sure ain't mayo.

Now I use a lot of mayonnaise, at least a half a jar, sometimes more. I mix the mayo in with a spatula then I add the hard boiled eggs. Depending on the consistency of the potato salad I may add more mayo. I also add chopped fresh parsley. Not dried but fresh parsley. I nurse parsley plants outside during the winter but this winter I ran out early so I made my potato salad without the parsley. It tasted just as good. 

Oh, one more very important ingredient I almost forgot it mustard. Definitely add mustard. I use French's mustard. You can use Heinz also when the store you shop is out of French's, a situation I found myself in this past winter. Don't use any of the fancy mustard, just the plain old yellow mustard. Now I do go heavy on the mustard but not too heavy. Maybe use two tablespoons to my half a jar of mayo. Every batch of potato salad has a different consistency. I think it is the starch in the type of potatoes you use. I used Idaho baking potatoes. Again, do everything to your taste. 

This potato salad is good at room temperature but I think best cold after at least four hours in the refrigerator. 

All Is Well

 

All is well here at Casa Tipton-Kelly. 

Bill's hospice nurses just left. They graciously agreed to let me take this photo of them with Bill. 

A nice sunny day here in coastal southern Delaware and all is well.

Have a great day!

Oscar Winners 2023

2023 Oscar Winners!

Well, how did you like the Oscar telecast last night? 

I watched most of it but had to leave after about an hour into the show because I can take just so much of the self congratulatory same ole, same ole (thanking the wife and kids and third grade school teachers). I recorded the rest of the show so I could fast forward through that mind numbing rinse and repeat mantras.

I did watch live both supporting actors awards. I was very pleased with all the winners, especially Jamie Lee Curtis and Michelle Yeogh. It's about time for diversity in the Hollywood moving making machine. 

After the put on "record" for the rest of the Oscar telecast, I picked up where I left off watching the Netflix series "You." Pat's friends said they didn't like this series because it was "weird." "Weird" it is but I still found it very watchable. A serial killer book store clerk. Things don't get much weirder than that premise for a TV series. We're a long way from "I Love Lucy" these days.

I figured the major acting awards would be live at 12 midnight. When I turned on the local ABC channel the Oscar telecast wasn't there! What?  It was over? You mean they actually brought in the show under three hours? Yes, they did. Will wonders never cease?

Jimmy Kimmel was a good host. None of the drama this year like last year's The Slap where the grossly overrated Will Smith slapped Oscar host Chis Rock for Rock's lame joke about Will Smith's wife's buzz cut. That was the Slap seen and heard around the world. At first I didn't believe what I saw then I realized Will Smith just showed what a common thug he was under that oh so cool demeanor he had been fooling Hollywood with for over twenty years. I was onto Will Smith and his spoiled family years ago, way before The Slap. Will Smith tried to make one of his spoiled kids a movie star. How's that working out Will? How about your career? Good riddance. The arrogance of what Will Smith did by feeling he had the imperial right to walk on the Oscar stage and assault the host before a billion plus people is unforgivable. 

I'm glad there was no drama last night at the Oscar awards telecast. I'm also glad Hollywood is finally working its way to becoming more diverse in casting all kinds of people in roles and willing to take on new innovative ways of making movies. 

I felt good after watching last night's Oscar telecast. The way we should all feel instead of the way we felt last year, dirty and disgusted.

Keep up the good work Oscar producers, last night was a good start. Still a long way to go though.

The Oscars 2023

 

Yep! I'm watching Oscars tonight.

I said years ago I would never watch again because I was so bored with the acceptance speeches in which the winners thank everybody from their third grade school teacher and even their newly born babies. This after reciting a whole litany of names of those behind their film whose we don't know. Why not just say "Thank you"? 

But this year I want to see if Brendan Fraser wins for "The Whale". This would be such a wonderful comeback story for Brendan, who at one time was a young hottie in "George of the Jungle" and the pool boy in "Gods and Monsters" with that self absorbed over the top ham actor Ian McKellen.

Brendan put on some weight, actually too much to be a hottie, after outing Philip Berk, the then-president of the Hollywood Foreign Press Association for sexual assault ("allegedly") against him. Brendan got very few film roles after that incident but gradually came back in Steven Soderbergh's "No Sudden Move and Darren Aronofsky's "The Whale". I saw him play a prison guard in the TV Showtime Series "The Affair." What an actor! He scared me. I like seeing someone like Brendan overcome the Hollywood blacklist by his sheer talent and I hope he wins the Oscar tonight. But of course I put nothing past those in the Academy who often vote for some actor to win who we never heard of before nor will since. 

Another reason I will watch the Oscar telecast tonight is that I won't have to hear any references to what a "God" Harvey Weinstein is (Meryl Streep called Weinstein a "God" in a Golden Globe acceptance speech). I love Meryl Streep and was so disappointed to hear that kind of crap coming our of her mouth. Even before the real Harvey Weinstein was outed as a sexual predator I knew he was a monster. He's in prison now and that is exactly where he belongs.

I also won't have to see the smug faces of James Franco, Russell Crowe and Kevin Spacey. All good actors, I'll give them that but awful human beings.  Sometimes I think it better not to know too much about actors' private lives but how can that happen when they are so arrogant thinking they can get away with anything including sexual assault?

There was a time in the distant past when I would never miss an Oscar telecast. Remember Elizabeth Taylor receiving a pity Oscar for "Butterfield Eight". She was gorgeous in a yellow diaphanous gown. But she really received the Oscar not smooch for her acting in "Butterfield Eight" but serving a near death from Pneumonia; she only survived due to an emergency tracheotomy performed in London. Everyone looked for the tracheotomy scar on her throat, the only imperfection on her perfect beauty at that time.

If you're watching the Oscars tonight, enjoy! 

Good News and a Brief Autobiography

 

Bill's healed leg wound

Bill's open leg wound has healed!

Praise be God! 

I'm not a religious person (nor will I ever be) but I feel it appropriate to use the PBG epitaph at this time of good news.

This is the longest for one of his open leg wounds to heal, almost two months. 

The swelling of his right leg, where his blood clots reside, has almost shrunk to normal. Notice how there is space between his toes? There was a time when his legs and feet were so swollen there was no space between his toes. I could hardly fit his size 12 Crocs on his feet.

Bill is still on home hospice palliative care. The hospice service reevaluates him every sixty days. He was just extended for another sixty days.

Bill is weaker but stabilized again. Of course I think much of his condition has to do with the customized care he is receiving here at his home, where he is most comfortable. We are so fortunate that Bill can live out his final days here with me and our home in which we are so comfortable. 

In other news, almost all of my daffodils are in bloom. The change of seasons is what I love about living in southern Delaware. As much as I love Palm Springs, if I moved to Palm Springs permanently, I would sorely miss the change of seasons. And of course as I have often said in my blog posts I would miss the comfort of our home here in southern coastal Delaware. I could never replicate a home like this in Palm Springs or even the nearby cities of Palm Springs where the homes are less expensive than the Palm Springs address. Pat is intent on living in Palm Springs. Me, not so much.  Maybe part of the year in the winter from December to March but the rest of the year? I have low taxes here in Delaware, a big comfortable customize house, nice quiet neighborhood of very nice neighbors. In fact this is the best neighborhood we've ever lived in our whole lives.

Lately I've been having flashbacks of my Previous Life and all the pleasant memories. Both Bill and I have been very fortunate in that we have lead interesting lives. When I was younger I thought the only people who lead interesting lives were the rich and famous. Now in the wisdom of my old age I have discovered that money and being famous isn't a recipe for happiness. You make your own happiness, rich or poor. Famous or not famous, just one granule of sand of the beach of life. That's me and what a life I have had.

I've always meant to write my autobiography. I've started several times but just became too overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. Also a factor was would anyone be interested? Probably not but for me, it would be interesting to write about it, my life journey. "Journey", such an overused word today.

Below is the broad outline of my life:

1941 - born first son (of three) of Ike and Betty Tipton

1944-1954 - lived in a cockroach infested second floor apartment at 120 Washington Ave., Downingtown, PA. A small manufacturing town thirty-seven miles west of Philadelphia, PA.

Me with my two brothers and other friends at our Washington Avenue home in Downingtown, PA. Rent was $22.50 a month. That building is still there in the White Trash section of town. All these years later, some things never change.

1954-1959 - moved to another second floor apartment (rent free with family) that was brand new and not cockroach infested at Book Road, Downingtown, PA. I remember asking my Mother where were all the cockroaches and she answered "Homes aren't supposed to have cockroaches. This is a new home." Seriously, I really asked that because I just assumed every home had cockroaches scurrying about when you turned on the lights.

1959-1960 - moved to our first home, an 1,100 square foot ranch house. For the first time in my life I had my own bedroom. Previously I slept in a bed with my two brothers, except at the very end when I insisted on my own bed and my parents gave me a fold up bed for Christmas. We three brothers sill slept in the same bedroom but at least I had my own "space".

1960-1963 - after a near death experience with contracting a staph infection in the hospital because I failed my fist Army physical and had to have an operation, I joined the Army (Army Security Agency) for three years.

1960 - January to March - Basic Training at Ft. Dix New Jersey. 

1960 - April to October - Army Security Agency Training at Ft. Devens, Mass.

1960-1963 - Assignment at Ft. George G. Meade, Maryland at the National Security Agency. Back in those homophobic years I barely got in. The day I was supposed to take my lie detector test, which one of the questions that if I failed to answer "correctly" ("Do you have homosexual tendencies?" - DO I EVER? Did I have brown hair? Yes! Born with both!) They never did reschedule me for another lie detector test and I served my two and half years at Ft. Meade at the National Security Agency as a gay man. Ft. Meade was where I met my first gay friends and had my first "experience." The Army had a policy that no gays could serve because they would be subject to blackmail for being gay and thus give away state secrets. First, there has never been ONE case of a gay man being blackmailed in the service and this whole policy was fucked up because the only way they could be blackmailed because it was against Army policy to be gay. But I digress. I was lucky, but others I knew were not. You only had to be accused and they Army ditched you, no matter how good  you were at your job. This was a policy put into place by Eisenhower, that hateful notorious homophobe. As I said, I was lucky and I even had my own room while I was at Ft. Meade because I was the assistant platoon sergeant. Go figure.

Me during my Ft. Meade days 1962

1963 - I would have stayed in the Army and/or NSA but when my time came I decided not to take the change of being outed and kicked out of either the Army or NSA just for the plain fact I was gay so when my enlistment was up I left.

1963 - I moved to Pittsburgh, where a friend of my from the Air Force lived. His name was Sal and we were good friends at Ft. Meade. He was just a friend, no romantic entanglement but I wanted to come out in the gay world. I went into my first gay bar in Clairton, PA, a dingy steel town. It was another whole world, that gay bar. A new world opened to me. The town was dingy but this new gay world I entered for the first time in my life was a rainbow hued paradise. Especially when that cute, crew cut butch guy asked me to dance. The first time I ever danced with another guy.  I quickly discovered why people liked to dance. I always liked dancing but this was another whole experience. Of course I was at first puzzled why my dance partner would have a "ruler" in his pocket (which my friends at the bar later explained to me wasn't a "ruler" but simply my dance partner found me attractive." I was hooked. 

1963 - I only stayed in Pittsburgh for three months. I wasn't making enough money ($250 a month before taxes, less than I was making in the Army, $389 a month) and I was lonely. I came out in the gay world but I didn't know how to act. I left and went home. I originally went to Pittsburgh because I didn't want to come out at home and embarrass my family. 

1963-1965 - I got my own apartment in Coatesville, PA, a small steel town next to Downingtown and came out. I embarrassed my family and lost half my friends but I made new friends. One my best friend in the Army who revealed to me he was also gay. Here I had no idea nor did he.

1965  - to now - I met Bill, moved in with him and we will have been together fifty-nine years this July. Of course a lot has happened in those fifty-nine years which I have previously revealed in my many previous blog posts.

Here's my brief job history:

1951 - 1959 Paper boy, dishwasher, office cleaner, apple picker, meat counter boy, mowing lawns, shoe store clerk, department store clerk. Of those early jobs, the paper boy job was the best. I had that steady for five years.

1960-1963 - Army Specialist 5

1963 - Night Auditor, Pittsburgh Hiltol Hotel

1963-1965 - Accounts Payable clerk, Lipsett Steel Products (yes, a steel yard)

1965-1986 - Girard Bank (remittance clerk) then Mellon Bank

Me during my Trust Operation Manager days at Mellon Bank in Philadelphia 

1986-1994 - Fidelity Bank (Reconcilement Research Project manager

1994-1994 - Gardner on an estate

1994-1998 - Downingtown National Bank Trust Operations Manager

1998-2006 - Hampton Inn front desk clerk and First Financial Bank Trust operations. Yes, I had two jobs for three years. Saved some money.

2006 - 2020 Inn At Canal Square front desk clerk

2020 to now - Caregiver to my partner and husband of fifty-eight years. 

And that's my life folks! Of course a lot of "interesting" facts in between those dates. And as I said before I've posted before about those facts in previous blog posts and perhaps I will post about many of the "events" I haven't posted about before. But at this time of my life I am cognizant of the fact that I have to respectful of others, living and dead, before I go willy nilly and post about "everything."

I've have a nice life folks. I can see the end coming. I know some of my friends say I will outlive then and I have already outlived most of my friends but eventually my Story will come to an end.  

I  reflect now on all those windows of history in my past years and know how lucky I am to have lived this life. Of course I'm hoping for some more years, especially trips with my good friend and soulmate Pat. I think there are a few more Palm Springs adventures in our lives.  If not, then I will go to my eternal rest knowing that I have been most blessed with this life I have lived.