A World of Wednesdays - July 30, 2025

 What's Top of My Mind. Bad feelings. Yesterday afternoon I had to slap down an offer of a closer friendship with a kind fellow with home I had a recent professional relationship. Like everyone (except perhaps masochists) I hate being rejected. However, over my many years on this planet I've developed a rather thick skin when rejected to the point that I consider the person or folks rejecting me, "their loss" because I'm such a Nice Guy. Even worse, I hate rejecting nice people (no problem with bad people) but I had to yesterday. This fellow mean well but after his latest attempt to form a closer relationship (over the line from professional to personal) I finally had to issue my Rejection Slip, thus hurting his feelings. How to do this without being cruel? I consulted with my friends for advice. My one friend said "Ignore his texts". That's what he did when a neighbor lady tried to put the moves on him. Of course that didn't work and she eventually confronted him in an awkward and ugly showdown. Pat had the best advice. "I don't have time for this." And actually that was true. And isn't Truth always the best answer? Most times anyway (I guess). So I shot of that text and received a reply "Ok. I didn't mean to bother you." There we go! I'm sure there was some hurt feelings, and I do appreciate the outreach, me being this crooked old man living alone who has trouble walking and this a much younger man fifty plus years my junior. The only friends I have down here are my neighbors to either side of Casa Tipton-Kelly. One is a widower and the other a young couple with two young daughters. We pretty much keep to ourselves but we look out for each other. Not one of them has requested a sit-down over refreshments. I have longtime friends from my old schoolmates to previous fellow workers and a cousin or two here and there and one sister-in-law. My multiple nieces and nephews I have no communication with for various reasons, the main one being my surviving brother is MAGA and we haven't spoken in years.  And of course my Blogger Friends and most of all Pat. My life is very full now. I don't need any more friends (he says). Still, I feel rather guilty for rejecting a sincere offer of friendship. This is the third offer of such a friendship that I've nipped in the bud since Bill has died. Before Bill died I told him that such offers would probably be coming. Those offering such friendships will never know how lucky they are not becoming my friend because I'm no prize. I'm difficult. Bill, Pat and my other friends know that but they have long ago proved what true friends they are by putting up with me. The first night I spent with Bill at the hospice center I was so distraught because I knew he would never be leaving there alive. As the fine folks there were trying to comfort me, I kept wailing "He put up with me, he put up with so much. He put up with me.!" As I say this I'm tearing up but that was the sentiment wealing up from the depths of my soul knowing that I was going to lose the love of my life.

Where I've Been: The usual. My weekly visit to the Restore Thrift Store, Food Lion and Pepper's Greenhouse. That's it. With the brutal heat and humidity on the Delmarva peninsula where I live, I stay at home most of time. Today however, I have my annual visit with my cardiologist at 2:00 PM. I'm not looking forward to telling him that I have forgone my two heart prescriptions. They make me sick and nauseas and I suspect constipated which is a big NO-NO in my world. I would rather take my chances than be nauseas, exhausted and constipated all the time. This is the same cardiologist that ten years ago informed me I had sleep apnea and should wear one of those restrictive head gear thingies. I decline then as I do now. I'm way past my due date anyway. I'll take every day I have of this life but I'm not going to extend it by causing more discomfort than I have quality of life. 

What I'm eating: Sauerkraut. See above. YUM! Tummy feels good!

What I'm planning: A clean out everyday. I have so much stuff at Casa Tipton-Kelly that needs a thorough going through to see what needs to be tossed and what needs to be kept for my Memories. I will never be a minimalist but I can get rid of a lot of Stuff. Just the other day I cleared of the top of my four draw filing cabinet here in my home office. In addition to wiping off an embarrassing amount of dust, I noticed how nice that cabinet looks with a cleared top. I also found some items that I thought I had lost. Treasures! Alas, the top is dust free but not thingie free. Now for my other cabinet.

I've been putting off this cleaning and throw away for too long now because I didn't want it to be a big project taking up my days because my days are pretty set up the way I want them to be now. But I can squeeze in at least a half an hour a day for this project. This is how I did my outside fall clean up this past fall when I could no longer afford to pay $1,000 to my local landscaper Jose to do it for me. I pruned one crepe myrtle a day until I had them all done. I'll employee the same tactic here on the inside of Casa Tipton-Kelly. Who knows what additional treasures Iwill discover beneath the dust?

Who Needs A Good Slap: The Republicans in Congress. Last night they just approved Trump's evil personal lawyer Emil Bove for a lifetime judgeship on the Washington D.C. Circuit Appeals court thus proving again the oath when they took office to "preserve and protect" the Constitution was a lie. They're only preserving and protectecting themselves because they scared shitless of Trump and his MAGA base. So much for hers in real life! You want heroes? Go to the movies and watch the new Superman movie. In real life too many people have proven themselves to be craven cowards. American land of the free and brave? Not since Trump is in office. Five big slaps and an extra one!

Who Needs A Hug: The Trump Administration. Yes, this Trump Hater is actually going to say something good about Trump. They did away with pennies!  Way overdue! Finally this country will no longer kowtow to the little old ladies in Iowa who count their pennies out while holding up the line at the grocery store while paying for their bill. Way overdue! Nickles, dimes and quarters next!

Now it's time for me to solve my daily Wordle puzzle. Anyone out there besides Spo who does Wordle?

Bedtime Stories

 

Did your parents read you bedtime stories when you couldn't get to sleep when you were a child?

Me, on the right shielding my face from the sun with my hand and my two younger brothers on the side roof from our second floor apartment at 120 Washington Avenue, Downingtown, PA about 1947.

Nah, mine didn't either.

We (my two younger brothers and I slept in the same bed until I was twelve years old) were more likely to get a beating with a belt from our father if we didn't calm down. 

Me, still sleeping in the same bed at eleven years old with my two younger brothers one of whom is already in bed. Again, no bedtime stories this night in 1954

Think I'm exaggerating? Think again.

Not that we were overly abused, this was just the way many if not most kids grew up in the Forties and Fifties. We were all acquainted with The Belt if we misbehaved.

Me, the big kid in the middle holding up a grasshopper next to my face with my youngest brother John (now deceased), sitting with his hand under his chin and my other brother Isaac (who is MAGA now and we haven't spoken to each other in three years now) seated below. The steps behind us lead upstairs to our second floor apartment. See those other kids, they knew The Belt too. That was normal life for us kids in the Fifties of working class parents. Our classmates and friends who had parents who had professional jobs lived on Lincoln Highway, one block over. Behind our street was Cox Alley, that's where the blacks lived. Yep, there were people even poorer than we were, "The Coloreds" as we used to call them in the Forties and Fifties. Of course they were called a more derogatory name back then. I got into trouble when I visited her home once. Even though we were poor, we were not to socialize with "the N word". We were taught racism at a young age. It's how it happens folks. Maybe we were poor and "hillbilly" (which we were actually, my father was a genuine hillbilly from the mountains in western North Carolina, even had the hillbilly accent his whole life, he always called me "Half a Hillbilly." We may have been poor and lived in a dump (rent $22.50 a month) but we were better than the (fill in the blank).

Me siting on that same stoop sixty years later (2010). Funny how that stoop seemed so small now and the stairs leading to our second floor apartment so narrow. The place was still a dump.

My brothers and I were born each a year apart. Sleeping in a clothes basket until we got too big then a bed, we were often rambunctious. "You kids keep quiet in there or I'm sending your father in with his belt to put you to sleep!" And believe me, we didn't want him paying us a visit with his belt. 

My Mother and father and me running  up the stoop. I think this was about 1944 shortly after we moved in to 120 Washington Avenue in Downingtown, PA. That fat little ass of mine received it's share of whacks with my father's belt. 

He did come in, how many times I forget but it wasn't infrequent. We soon developed a way to avoid the worst (direct hits) of his belt. As he removed his belt from his pant loops we would be screaming in pain already even before he landed any hits. We would hold the covers slightly above our bodies and scream like he really landed some hits. Occasionally he did and man oh man that hurt! But mostly he missed after about a half a dozen whacks. Of course we were quiet after one of his visits. Looking back on it now, I think he realized he wasn't really landing any blows but his visits still had the desired effect, we were quiet the rest of the night and they could get to sleep. By the way, a few  years later when I recounted these "whippings" to my Mother she told me, "You were lucky. Take a look at the scars on your father's back. They were from whippings he got from his father." Well, at least our whippings didn't leave scars. He did get a several good licks in though. My father had ten brothers (no sisters). I imagine all of them kept their father's belt pretty busy.

120 Washington Avenue, Downingtown, PA (our apartment building the big building on the left) in 1954, the year we moved from there to Boot Road.

120 Washington Avenue July 2002, still a dump. I doubt if any of the kids who lived in this building ever had bedtime stories read to them. By the way, this is why I always wanted a backyard (like I have now). My formative years growing up, no back yard. Me and my best bud Chubby played down by the railroad tracks. I know the smell of coal tar well! That was the only place we could play, if we played any other place we were usually greeted by "You kids get out of here!" I doubt if those adults who yelled at us read their kids bedtime stories either.

Now, imagine if he or our mom took the tact to her restless sons and said "You boys still awake? Oh, I'll come in and read you a bedtime story." HA! 

I bring this subject up because my dear friend Spo of Spo Reflections recently posted about his idyllic "Father Knows Best/Leave It To Beaver" childhood about coming across a book of fairy tales his mother used to read to him and his younger brothers. 

My hillbilly father at twenty-one years old when he worked for Lukens Steel in Coatesville, PA

My hillbilly father in his favorite attire, a white T-shirt (he professed from the wife beater T-shirts) in 1954 at Gindy Manufacturing Company on Boot Road in Downingtown, PA after we moved from Washington Avenue. He was a charmer to the ladies. Not so much to his kids. The few times I complained about his treatment (mostly annoyance) to his kids, he usually responded "I brought you into this world and feed you! For that your should be thankful!" And I was an am. Funny thing now, I have most of his mannerisms, which shocked me when I first saw myself on a video.

Me with "Pop", which is what we called him, in 1991. This at his three and a half acre home "in the country" (still Downingtown address) on Hopewell Road. He loved to garden and raise chickens. His hillbilly heritage. Still wearing his T-shirt. Notice I keep my distance. I was still an annoyance to him. But he did bring me into this world and fed me. Thanks Pop! By the way, when I came out gay, he didn't care. Thank God I didn't have one of THOSE fathers. Small blessings. My Mom was more upset than he was. She came to accept my gayness but was never comfortable with it. She did love Bill though, who was only four years younger than her.

Bill and my Mom 2001 at our seven acre property in Pennsylvania, one road over from her home. They were best pals. I think Bill was more upset than I was when she died. I was very upset of course, but Bill was devastated. He never got over the loss of her friendship. 

Spo, your childhood was an exception, believe me!

I literally know of no one in my social circle of family, friends or co-workers who were lulled to sleep with either one of their parents reading them bedtime stories. Not a one! How about you Jon of "Lone Wolf Concerto"? Did your dad read you a bedtime story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears?

Have any of my readers of this blog have anyone (including aunts, uncles, cousins or grandparents?) send them off to Dreamland by reading to them the fable about the Three Pigs? 

However, even though I didn't have the luxury of having an adult reading me a bedtime story of Cinderella, I did discover there was such a thing as a fairy tale. Probably at school around the third grade when I was ten years old and could read. 

I got me a book of fairy tales and let me tell you folks, I read that book cover to cover......many times. I thoroughly enjoyed each story. Here is list of the stories that I can remember reading and savoring:

Little Red Riding Hood

Cinderella (I was intrigued by Prince Charming, of course!)

The Three Little Pigs

Hansel and Gretel

Goldilocks And The Three Bears

Rapunzel

Jack and the Beanstalk

The Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe 

The last one, "The Old Woman Who Lived In a Shoe" was a fairy tale but I was intrigued because that image of that old beat up shoe and all those little kids pouring out of shoe reminded me of the low rent, cockroach infested apartment building we lived in when I was a kid up until I was twelve years old at 120 Washington Avenue in Downingtown, Pennsylvania from 1943 to 1954. 

I don't know what happened to that book of fairy tales but I treasured it. I think this was the first time I was sent into another world other than the world of white trash chaos in which I grew up at Washington Avenue. Funny thing though, I don't feel like I was deprived by not living in a neighborhood of tree lined streets with verdant lawns and loving attentive parents who had time to read me and my brothers bedtime stories. I was already in our life of harsh reality and didn't know there was that other world until we got a TV and I saw "Father Knows Best" with a mom who always had a pearl necklace with her crisp shirt waist dress, greeting "Jim" when he came home with his briefcase with a hug and a kiss before dinner. "Jim" (the actor Robert Young), would have dinner in his suit. Did any of you reading this blog have dinner with your dad who wore his suit to dinner? Yeah, right! My father always had  dirty, greasy, white wife beater T-shirt. Not even a shirt. That's the way it was folks. Again, we, my brothers and I didn't know the difference because that's just the way it was. This is why I always smile to myself when I read or see someone who had a different childhood. I did have two friends who had parents like that though. My longtime friend (to this day) Bill B. His mother was literally Mrs. Anderson. She had the necklace and shirt waist dress and her house was always immaculate. His father did wear a suit. But then he had a professional job as did my other longtime school mate fried (to this day, we do weekly Zoom calls). His father was a pharmacist. Both families lived in real houses. They could afford it. We couldn't as probably everyone on Washington Avenue. They lived in the high class section of Downingtown, one street over (could well have been a different world), on Lincoln Avenue. Every time I visited I felt like I wasn't even good enough to step across the threshold into their houses. But that's a subject for another blog posting. You know how I ramble on sometimes in these blog posts. 

So no, I didn't have bedtime stories of fairy tales read to me but I'm no worse off because of it.

Me with my Mother and father August 1972. Everything turned out all right.

Aldi's Does It Right!

Rehoboth Beach boardwalk earlier today. This is why I stay away during the summer season. These people all drive down to Rehoboth and they are in a hurry. 

 Late yesterday afternoon, I braved the Route One summer crowds and drove down to Aldi's, four miles outside of Rehoboth Beach.

I hate, hate, hate driving down Route One especially in the summertime really ESPECIALLY during the height of summertime season at Rehoboth Beach. I live near a beach resort folks, on the east side of Route One which is the main throughway from Maine to Florida, otherwise famously known as Coastal Highway. 

Each year Route One becomes more congested and dangerous, and this year it is the worse yet. I can barely get through a day without hearing the wail of police or ambulance sirens responding to the latest accident from speeding visitors. During the summer tourist season I stay away from Rehoboth Beach even though it is only ten miles as the crow flies. I do go to the Rehoboth Beach one mile boardwalk which is a wonderful boardwalk as boardwalks go, but only in the fall, winter and spring. If I have visitors, like last year when Pat and Glenn visited me, I'll have them drive me down (I won't drive) but even then, I became exhausted and passed out and spent three days in the hospital last June for evaluation. 

Yesterday was no exception with the craziness but I was determined to go to Aldi's because that's where my neighbor bought that out of this world cole slaw. I had to have some yesterday. Had to have it! Yes, I am an impulsive person. Guilty!

So at about 5:30 PM I head out of my very quiet

and peaceful development and enter The Highway Of Death, otherwise know variously as Route One or the Coastal Highway.  The video above I took from the lane out of my house towards Route One. All that traffic is headed south on Route One and they are always in a hurry.

Route One south towards Rehoboth Beach on a rare light traffic day. I must have taken this picture early in the morning (6 AM) when I used to go to Rehoboth to walk on the boardwalk before the traffic picked up by 8 AM. During the summer tourist season, especially on the weekends, you can't even see the road because of all the vehicles which is often bumper to bumper. Sometimes the traffic is backed up all the way to my house, ten miles north. This usually happens during accidents, which are not infrequent in season.

Not too bad going down. Traffic heavy and slow moving of course, but I was very careful. Of course I encountered a couple of idiots who are in a hurry, weaving in and out the five lanes of traffic. Yes, five lanes. When Bill and I first moved to Delaware there were three lanes and a beautiful, grassy medial strip. However, over the years and addition lane was added, then another. No more grassy medial strip. Just all traffic now including a dedicated lane for shuttle buses to the beach, which was a great idea that should have been adopted years ago. There is just so much parking space in Rehoboth Beach, that doesn't expand. There is even metered parking in the formerly quiet Rehoboth Beach neighborhoods now. Guess what the main source of Rehoboth Beach's revenue is? Parking fees and fines. They make millions each year. Millions!

Route One is jam packed with shopping venues and entertainment. When in Rehoboth Beach, if you want something else besides overpriced boardwalk cheap souvenir junk made in China, you're advised "Go out on the Highway for that!" Cracker Barrell, Chick-fil-A, and other chain restaurants, Walmart, local eateries, grocery stores (no Wegman's yet, those grocery stores need Wegmans competition), and many other sundry establishments to part the tourists from their money....fast.  Inner Rehoboth itself specializes in the really expensive local restaurants (high rents, not because the food is anything special). Location, location, location!

Arriving at the shopping center

where Aldi's is located I see there is a light. Thank goodness, I don't have to make one of those dreaded U-turns to get into that shopping center. By the way, did I mention that Delaware is a sales tax free state? That's another reason for all the shopping on both sides of Route One as you approach Rehoboth Beach. Many, many outlet stores of every persuasion you can imagine. NO SALES TAX, which is another reason Delaware thrives in addition to all those retirees like me who have moved down here to escape the outrageous personal property and school taxes of neighboring states like Pennsylvania, New Jersey and New York. 

Aldi's is located in the shopping center that formerly held K-Mart. K-Mart died years ago from short-sighted management by Sears and even Martha Stewart couldn't save them. The former K-Mart store is massive. 

I park my car in the parking meter free parking lot and get out to enter the store. I notice that the Aldi shopping carts have that little small chain with a slot to enter a quarter to unlock the chain. Smart move! This is to prevent those lazy people who take a store shopping cart and after loading their shopping booty in their cart, they let their shopping cart drift away in the parking lot. You would be surprise at how cheap most people are, they want their quarter back so they will return their cart to the place where they can push in the chain and their quarter pops back. Of course not everyone does that, I did see one lonely looking orphan Aldi shopping cart by itself in the parking lot, look for some shopper to claim their free quarter that they will reward them with when they return that cart to where the quarter will pop out.

As I entered the store I noticed a different demographic of shopper in Aldi's. These were Beach People. You know, skimpily dressed, smelling of sun tan lotion, wearing flip flops with usually several Mexican Jumping Jack kids jumping up and down and running through the wide aisles. Yes wide aisles! Aldi's is one of those rare grocery stores that doesn't clog up it's aisles with more grocery product to get your attention. Also, I didn't see anyone stocking shelves which is a new annoyance at all the other grocery stores. I guess they don't pay their employees to stock their shelves overnight when the store is closed. Did I mentioned wide aisles? 

As I soaked up the pleasure of walking down those wide aisles I noticed that the prices in Aldi's was LOW. OMG! I'm talking low! Hummus, which I would pay $4.99 for at a chain supermarket was $2.69 at Aldi's. And they had a selection. Imagine that?

I surmised that they could offer low prices because the ambiance (if I could use such an elegant term to describe a supermarket/grocery store) was decidedly BASIC. Fine with me, I'm only after the product I was looking for. I don't need fancy accruements.  Pat, where he lives in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, shops at a store like this. He often tells me of the bargains he encounters and takes advantage of. I think one of the stores he shops is called "Food Basics." That's all we need folks, the basics. 

I found my cole slaw but while I was in the store, and wanted to minimize any future trips this summer down Route One, I took a look-see around the rest of the store to see what I could abscond with. Wait, I think "abscond" means steal. I took a look to see if there was anything else I could sample and I found it, several different varieties of hummus which isn't available at my regular store. They only have regular hummus and red pepper hummus.

Now my hands/arms were full as I was wobbling my way to the check out counter. Self checkout, of course. Saving more money to offer lower prices.

I scan my new found treasures, pay for them with my credit card and, carefully balancing my five items, head for my car, which I couldn't find initially. Aldi's has a large parking lot. Eventually after wandering around for a few minutes looking for my car, ignoring the few pitiful looks I was getting from fellow shoppers (old man wandering around the parking lot looking for his car who couldn't even afford a quarter for a shopping cart), I found my car.

I loaded everything up in my car including myself and headed out to the lane to the light, which again I was thankful I "had the light" to get out. While waiting for the light to change and the never ending stream of traffic headed north on Route One to God knows where, I see a break in traffic. I make my right turn on red only to hear a horn BLARING AT ME. Whoops! Someone is in a hurry! As that car passed me (of course they had to pass me because they obviously didn't have brakes on their car to slow down as I merged into traffic), the woman passenger, her face twisted in anger, was saying something to me as she waived her finger at me (no middle finger thank goodness, that's a fighting challenge). Ah ha, my day is complete. Now I have again become a recipient of road rage. By the way folks, I had plenty of time and besides I had a whole line of cars behind me waiting to merge on Route One. The one right behind me was ready to blast his horn at me when he saw the same break in traffic going north on Route One that I saw. 

I ignored the "lady" as I always do when I'm the recipient of one of these childish and unnecessary road rage incidents. Do you have any idea at how many times I've been cutoff while driving in traffic. I've lost count. Most times I just chalk it up to unreasonable, in a hurry, motorists. Almost always when I'm driving down Route One in heavy traffic, some is cutting me of as they weave in and out of traffic. Years ago they used to have a sign on the right side of the road as you enter Rehoboth Beach that said: "Slow down and relax, you're at the beach now." I wonder what happened to that sign, I haven't seen it in years. Probably taken down because some Important was insulted. Yes, we do have a lot of Important people down here Lower Slower.

I made it home safe and sound. Yes, a little rattled because of that impatient motorist but that's to be expected when entering Route One during the height of the summer tourist season.

"Going to the beach!"

Just another little adventure to share with you my ever faithful blog followers. 

What's Up? Late night Zoom Call To Spo.

 11:40 AM, Saturday Morning:

Up early again this morning. I've been up since about 5:15 AM. 

I got to bed late last night after a four way Zoom call between me and Pat (Hamilton, Ontario, Canada), Glenn (Cathedral City-Palm Springs, California, and Spo (Phoenix, Arizona.) 

I had to schedule the Zoom call at 11 PM my time so as not to be inconvenient for Spo (Michael) and Glenn who both live in the Pacific Time Zone which is three hours behind the Eastern Time Zone where Pat and I live.

I wanted to show Spo the custom shirt I purchased from Glenn's company Glennartstudio.com (see HERE). 

Pat, Glenn and I often Zoom call, always ignited initiated by me. Yes, I'm the Stir Master of these friendships. Guilty as charged. 

I caught Spo at a bad time. He was cleaning up the mess at Casa de Spo in Phoenix from his aging dog who is now incontinent. Drama at Casa de Spo! 

From to-left Pat (Hamilton, Ontario, Canada), Ron (Milton DE), bottom left is Glenn (Palm Springs, CA), and Spo (Phoenix, Arizona) - no need to write letters anymore!

We had a wonderful forty minute conversation. I use the free Zoom app which limits calls to forty minutes. The only downside is when the forty minutes is up, Zoom abruptly cuts off the calls, sometimes when one of more of the participants is in mid sentence or even mid word. BRUTAL! But in a good way, if I had the unlimited Zoom, then we would yak on for hours until someone gets bored or has something or someplace to go and suggests we end our gab fest. The forty-minute limit works fine. No one gets their feelings hurt or nose out of joint when someone suggests we end our yak session. 

Zoom is great though. Much better than FaceTime. With Zoom we can share our computer screens. And the Zoom calls are always clear and a good connection. I find FaceTime to often be an unstable connection and blurry. Also, we can't share our computer screens on FaceTime. 

What's Up For Me Today?

I've already done my early morning shopping. I like to get out early on these high traffic summer resort weekends. Yes, as regular followers of this blog know, I live near a very popular resort destination, Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. In fact I'm only four miles from former president Joe Biden's summer home. When he was president I always knew when he was visiting his home because three Secret Service helicopters would fly Casa Tipton-Kelly. Since the Orange Cry Baby won the election, the helicopters no longer do a fly over. For all I know, Joe's probably over there now at North Shores (where the really expensive homes are) but I doubt if he knows it. A couple of weeks ago I finished reading the Jake Taper book "The Original Sin", which exposed that his staff was covering up  the fact that Joe had lost it. 

After my mid-morning meditation (I don't call that a nap because I take my one and a half to two hour nap in the afternoon from about three to five PM), I ventured out in the continuing heat and humidity to take my neighbor's dog out for her pee. Hmmph! I get up in the middle of the night to take a pee and I take my neighbor's dog out for a pee. My neighbor frequent goes fishing with his fishing buddies. He's a widower like me. Only difference is he's straight and is MAGA big time. We don't discuss politics. We do watch out for each other though. Which just goes to show you can't assume all MAGA are bad people. One of my favorite bloggers, Jon of Lone Wolf Concerto, is also a MAGA guy (I think, judging from some of his blog posts). But Jon is a helluva nice guy though just as is my neighbor Bob M.

Well, I'm off now to prepare my meal for tonight. I'm having pork chops smothered in sauerkraut and red onion, apples, and white wine. I am cooking this in my old crock pot which still works just fine. 

Have a great day everyone!

Atlantic City, 1967 (or cold be Rehoboth Beach, I forget which one, long time ago!)

I Voted!

 

Me at the early voting site in Milton yesterday morning. I need a new hat.

Since I was I so early yesterday because I couldn't sleep, I decided to vote early. 

We have a special election down here in southern coastal Delaware, Sussex County, District 20 to fill a seat that was vacated.  The woman who won the election last November never showed up for work. Not one day! I guess I should have expected that because that was one of the few politicians who didn't stop at my door and ask for my vote. 

In yesterday's post I showed the two ladies who showed up at my front door and asked me to vote for their candidate. I appreciate that. The regular voting date is August 5th. Early voting started yesterday. 

The polls opened at 7 AM. I left Casa Tipton-Kelly at about 6:30 AM. The voting location was at the Mariner Middle School in Milton. I have driven by that school many times on my way to Milton where I do most of my grocery and garden shopping. I avoid Route One and the Lewes/Rehoboth craziness as much as I can.

Driving  up to the school I saw a couple of lonely signs pointing to the building where the voting will take place. Of course I went into the wrong road and ended up where the school buses are parked. I have a tendency to do that (actually always) when trying to navigate my 2010 red Subaru Forester with almost 100,000 miles on it. Last week when I went to renew my drivers registration at the DMV, I drove in the wrong way too. And remember last week when I drove into the Lowes parking lot? Yep, wrong way again. Just call me Wrong Way Ron. That's the story of my life but I digress.

After exiting the school bus parking lot, I entered the right way and found plenty of parking spaces. Would I be the first voter today?

I saw the "VOTE HERE" signs outside a large building with the door open. 

I saunter up to the open door and walk in past a middle aged man posting a sign on the door. In the distance I see about ten older folk (why are there never young people as poll workers?) gathered around another older gentleman obviously giving them orientation. I say to the man at the door "Orientation". He says "Yes. We're not opened yet." 

I check my watch and sure enough the time was only 6:45 AM! I'm early! Oh the embarrassment!

I apologized to him and excused myself saying "I'll wait in my car." And then I proceeded to hobble out to my car. I wish I could walk like I used to but that will never happen again in whatever remaining years I have left on this earth. I now have that Old Man Walk. Stooped over and barely able to keep my balance. I always have my cane nearby but when out in public I try not to use it. Seems whenever I do I get a lot of pity looks and I become even more invisible. Gone are the days of my foolish youth whenever I ventured out in public I often got those admiring glances and that tall good-looking guy. Not these days folks! Those days are long gone. I remember when I was young and I would see some old man struggling to walk with a pained look on his face. I especially felt sorry for the tall older men who were now bent over in arthritic pain. I'm there now. It is what it is. Another learning experience for moi.

At about two minutes after seven I reentered the school building again and was met with a phalanx of old folks (men and women) seated at folded tables. 

"Who to choose?" I chose the first table which was a mistake. The guy couldn't find me in his system! The guy next to him, who was also a vet like me, was talking to me after I told him I love to vote. I told him that when I was in the Army in 1960 I wanted to vote but couldn't because I was only eighteen years old and back in those Bad Old Days, a United States citizen had to be twenty-years old to vote. Yes, old enough to die for my country but not old enough to vote. Remember those god awful days? Actually the first time I voted was in 1964 in the Lyndon Johnson/Barry Goldwater presidential race. I voted for Barry Goldwater. Yes, I the first time I voted, I voted for a loser. Not the first time in my lifetime either folks. I've been voting for losers ever since. But again, I digress. My fellow veteran, who told me he was in the Marines, said he worked with Army Rangers and he developed a whole new respect for Army vets. Well folks, I obviously wasn't an Army Ranger. My whole three years in the Army was two weeks Basic Training, six months of school for the Army Security Agency, and then the remainder of my three year stint working a desk job at the National Security Agency in Ft. George G. Meade, Maryland. The closest I came to combat was in 1962, during the Cuban Missle Crises when I had to work midnight shift in communications intercept. I never got out of the basement of the massive National Security Agency building at Ft. Meade. Of course I didn't tell my fellow vet these facts, I'll take the hero view he might of had for me. 

When my fellow vet saw that his co-worker still couldn't find me in the voting rolls, he took a look at his computer screen. Yep, there I was matching my driver's license which he was working from. 

That befuddle poll worker keyed in some information on his computer and then turned the screen around for me to sign my signature. Yep, I bend over my arthritic body to sign a computer screen with one of those soft tipped pens. I signed but it didn't look like my regular magnificent scrawl. My signature looked like that illegible scrawl that Trump signs all those executive orders that he spews out almost daily.

After I signed the screen he gave me a long piece of paper, which was my voting receipt (?). With voting receipt in hand I turned around to see many smiling faces and another gentleman motion to me with a sweeping motion of his hand "Choose any booth you would like." They all looked alike so I chose the one closest to me. 

I do my Old Man Hobble over to that curtained booth, quite aware that most if not all of the folks at those tables behind me are looking at me with that pitiful glance I so often these days. Whatever, whatever. I'm wobbly now, what can I say?

I pull the voting booth curtain aside and slip in. I look at the screen and only two names are displayed. Both women, on white (Republican of course) and one black (Democrat). I'm voting for the Democrat, as I almost always have for the past twenty-five years ever since George W. Bush and his administration tried to take away my veteran medical care benefits. I was in between jobs then and had no medical insurance. Yes, the Republicans are always lowering taxes for their rich friends and trying to take away (often successful) medical benefits from those less connected like me. Of course Bush and the Republicans weren't successful in that attempt, they got so much blowback that they changed the legislation to grandfather in old vets like me. But younger veterans, those not yet in the system would no longer have those benefits that were promised to us,"if we needed it", when we signed up. Got to give more money to the rich, don't you know it? And I'm sure you notice that the Republicans are still at it, lowering and taking away medical benefits for the Great Unwashed, those of us who don't have the connections. Again, I digress but that is the main reason I'm no longer a Republican as I was for many years of my life. 

I looked at the screen and then touched the Democrat's name and then pulled the switch to open the curtain and leave. I felt like I was missing something. A poll worker was standing outside my booth. He said "Did you review your selection?" He could clearly see I voted for the Democrat which caused me to wonder "He's probably one of those brainwashed Trump voters and now has a completely different opinion of me, voting for a Democrat and a black woman at that!" I don't care. Then he said "If your vote is what you want then press the "Accept" button which was at the bottom right of the machine. Wow! Screwed up again! Old man here. 

I pressed the button and I heard a "chunk, chunk" and the machine spit out my long while paper voting receipt. I handed it to the gentleman, wished him a "Have a great day!" He and a couple other people happily said to me "You're the first voter today!"

Wow! I think that's the first time that's ever happened for me. Well, that was a nice feeling. 

Then I entered out of that building into the sun, heat and humidity of the day. 

Mission accomplished!

Can't Sleep!

 

Look familiar? It should, I posted this picture last week after I got up for my nocturnal bathroom visit and couldn't get back to sleep. 

What's going on?

I rarely have trouble sleeping, especially at night even after I get up to go to the bathroom.  But here I am at 3:15 AM in the morning and I'm wide awake. 

Maybe it's because I take two hour naps in the afternoon (from three to five PM). Or maybe something else is going on. Now I'm starting to get concerned.

So what to do? I'll do what I did the last time I couldn't get back to sleep, which was just last week. I'll do my regular morning routine until I feel sleepy and go back to bed, no matter what time.

Today I only have one thing on my agenda to do, and that is to vote early.  I'll be voting in a special election to replace my state representative who resigned. 

Yesterday afternoon, as I was talking to Pat I heard my doorbell ring. I thought "Oh here we go again, another salesman." I told Pat "Hang on, you can listen to me and I take care of this." 

When I went to the door I saw these two ladies. They introduced themselves as working for my local Democratic candidate Alonna Berry. Oh! This is great! I was hoping the local candidate would stop by and ask for my vote. I really appreciate it when they personally ask for my vote. 

Me with the lady urging me to vote for her candidate Alonna Berry which I will today!

The twenty years I've lived here in Delaware I've had candidates of both parties stop by and ask for my vote. I was disappointed that the candidate, of both parties, neither one stopped by to ask for my vote. 

I thanked the ladies and invited them in. They were very happy to be greeted so warmly and I was happy to see them. 

I introduced them to Pat (who was still on FaceTime) and got them each a cold bottle of Deer Park spring water. It's hot outside. 

They were so nice! We had a nice little chat, took some selfies, and had some laughs. I told them that Pat and I were going to be married. They loved that and went back to Pat on FaceTime to congratulate him. Both of these ladies had worked tirelessly for marriage equality in Delaware. Then I had a fabulous idea, would they like to be our witnesses at our wedding? They said "YES! Absolutely! They would be honored!"

Me taking a selfie of the three of us. What's with the blurred photo Ron? I guess I was nervous. Darn! 

Fate works in miraculous ways doesn't it? I've been searching around for two people to be witnesses to our wedding. I had asked Judy D. who along with her husband Jack were witnesses to me and Bill's wedding. Jack and Judy have since moved to Pennsylvania and Judy said she couldn't promise because she didn't know what their schedule would be but she would be honored.   

Jack and Judy D., witnesses to my wedding to Bill July 3, 2013

They have seven children and scads of grandchildren and they often travel to visit and attend family events. I sensed that this time maybe not and I didn't want to put that pressure on them. They knew Bill for a longtime and although they have met Pat (at my 60th high school class reunion - Judy is a former classmate of mine), they didn't have quite the closeness to Pat. I understand that. I also asked a guy who I only know from meeting him and his late partner when Bill and I got our wedding license at the Sussex County Courthouse along with many other gay couples July 1st, 2013, the first day when same sex couples could marry in Delaware. I saw on FaceTime several months ago a video of his wedding ceremony to his new husband. Even though I didn't know him personally, having only met him and his late partner that one time twelve years ago. I contacted him by e-mail and asked if he and his new husband would like to be witnesses to me and Pat's wedding. He said he would but I suspected he was just being kind.

I asked the guy in the yellow pullover, his partner/husband to be is to his right. He has since died as has Bill. Sad. The guy in the yellow pullover has since remarried. I saw his wedding ceremony to his new husband on Facebook. It was very touching. I was so happy for them. Soon it will be my turn to be happy again when I marry Pat and these two ladies, who Fate brought us together, will be the perfect witnesses to our wedding since they have done so much to bring about marriage equality in the state of Delaware.

Again, I don't really know him except for that one time. And as you know I don't participate in the local (Rehoboth Beach) gay community. That of course being a subject of several previous blog posts of mine which I won't go into now and perhaps never again. That dead horse has been beat enough. So yesterday was the perfect opportunity because these ladies were so nice. Of course photos and videos will be posted on this blog when that event happens. The only hurdle left to be and Pat getting married is him passing his interview this coming August 7th at the American Embassy in Montreal. Keep your fingers crossed for us.

Okay, another blog posting finished. As regular readers know whenever I write a blog posting I never know where I'm going. I just sit down in front of my iMac and place my nimble fingers on my computer's keyboard and let my fingers fly as text flows from my brain to my fingers. That's the only way I can blog folks, stream of thought. And this early in the morning I'm not being interrupted. 

Now onto my regular morning routine and hopefully I'll get sleepy again and grab a few more hours of sleep before I head out and early vote for that Democratic candidate those wonderful ladies who visited me yesterday urged me to vote for.

Have a great day everyone!

World of Wednesdays July 23, 2025

Here we go again folks. Wednesdays roll around fast!

What's On My Mind

I have reconsidered putting ads on my blog. Since I've upped my output (much to my enjoyment I might add), my page views have increased significantly Probably because I have something interesting to say, at least to a certain segment of the Blogosphere. Actually, all I write about is my life here in southern coastal Delaware. I am what I am, an eighty-three year old widowed gay man, soon to be married again, facing the challenges of my aging body and diminished brain as I prepare for my final exit from this lifetime. I know if I found a blog like mine I would be very interested in reading in so I am assuming there are other people like me out there in that vast blogosphere community. Writing my blog is something I enjoy doing and I could use the extra income. I'm not sure if I can make more than a few bucks a month but I'm going to give it a try. I'm still awaiting approval from Google AdSense. 

Where I'm Going

No plans for any trips in the immediate future. If Pat and I get married next month I plan to go to Philadelphia and visit my longtime friend Don McK. I also would like to visit my former hometown (Philadelphia was for many years) Downingtown. I'm still estranged from my MAGA brother but I've developed a close relationship with my cousin Barbara K. I haven't seen here in years but we've been talking on the phone a lot since her brother Bud died. She was his full-time caregiver and now lives alone in their former family house. Same as my MAGA brother, he lives alone in our former family homestead. He has a rescue cat for company. For years he literally lived in the basement with his giant computer screen where he played video games. This after his divorce. He moved in when my parents were still alive. When he lived in the basement he had Fox News on 24/7. Yes, he had that TV station on even when he slept. When I attended our Mother's funeral, before we had a falling out, I stayed overnight in my old bedroom. I had to leave at 1:30 AM in the morning because I couldn't get to sleep I could hear Fox News blasting out on his TV downstairs. It's a small house, eleven hundred square feet. I was afraid if I stayed the night my brain would be permanently damaged. I left and drove home to Delaware. It was strange taking that two hour drive at that time of night. Hardly any traffic. 

What I'm Reading

I may discontinue this category. I take a while to read a book since I only read when before I go to sleep. And I only read one book at a time. That's all my brain can handle at this point in my life.

What I'm Eating

Fresh fruit and vegetables. OMG! I love summertime. Fresh corn, watermelon, cantaloup, tomatoes and so much more! Right now I'm digging into a sweet watermelon every day. I'm overloaded with cantaloup since I bought one and my widowed neighbor Bob gave me half of his. We're both widowers and we give each other half of our food often. He's my main cake supplier although lately I've lost my taste for cake. More about that development in a future blog post.

Who Needs A Good Slap

Whoever supplies peaches to the stores. They pick them too soon and many of those peaches, which aren't cheap, are mealy when they "ripen" at room temperature. I'm old enough to remember what a real peach taste like. Many years ago when I visited my late brother John Tipton at his home in Greenville, South Carolina (the largest supplier of peaches in the United Stats, not Georgia as one might assume), I bought a basket of peaches at a ridiculously low price. I think I paid six dollars for the basket and it was a regular basket, not one of those cutie poo little ladylike baskets, this was a bushel basket. The last time I bought peaches at my local fruit and veggie stand I paid eight dollars for six peaches! The ones that ripened were good (and big) but still did not taste like those ripe South Carolina peaches I tasted in 2013 when I last visited my brother at his home in South Carolina. 

Who Gets A Fist Bump

Believe it or not the TSA! And by default the Homeland Security Department headed by that puppy killer lady Kristi Noem. They finally, FINALLY, stopped that Security Theater ridiculousness of removing your shoes at airport security. Now tell me, how many potential hijackers have they caught since that moronic policy was put into place? I'm think NADA. Nothing. It was all Security Theater. So much of what "authorities" do is meaningless and wasteful. Thank God they finally stopped this ridiculous practice. Lately it hasn't even affected me because I have a TSA Precheck pass and I'm old. Airport Security takes one pitiful look at this old man and knows that I'm not a threat. Besides if I had to take my shoes off I would probably fall over because of my balance problems now. I should record the looks on their faces when they see the Old Man coming at them. Sadness, pity and sometimes annoyance. Sorry folks, this is where I am now. Not much I can do about my condition now and I'm not going back to physical therapy.

What I'm Planning

Putting two aerators in my fish pond. My fish are thriving since I put one of those waterfall filters in my pond. I like the sound of the falling water, the fish get bubbles which translates into air for them, and I'm able to control the algae so the pond is relatively clear. However, I hear aerator bubbles will help to make my pond even clearer and the fish, of course, will appreciate the additional oxygen. 

What's Making Me Smile

Knowing Bill is in Heaven now with his dogs, parents and friends who have passed before us. Yesterday was particularly bad for me as I came across a short video I took of a visitor, my good friend Judy D. visiting Bill three years ago after he came home from the Thomas Jefferson University Hospital in Philadelphia and the Dover Rehab after three weeks. He was still so weak. But he was happy because he was at home. I was so happy that I was able to being him home and care for him for the next three years because I had almost lost him when he passed out and got a brain concussion from hitting his head on the edge of the coat rack in his bedroom. Looking at that video brought tears to my eyes again and a reminder of how much I miss him in my life. But I know that he is so happy now in Heaven with those he loved so much in his life. I am comforted by the fact that I know he awaits me and we will be together again. He confirmed this last night by reappearing through that burned out Christmas light. This is the way he has communicated with me in the past. For the last month or so it's been dark again. But last night, as I was making dinner for myself, I saw something flash from my peripheral vision. It was that light! That was Bill! Our love is eternal. That makes me smile.