Happy Anniversary!

 

It was a decades (over fifty years) each but I finally found him!

Ten years ago I met the man I was looking for all my life. 

All my life I was looking for this man. You say "But what about Bill?" 

Regular followers of this blog will know the story of me and Bill. Bill pursued me for quite a long time when I was twenty-two years old. Initially I didn't like Bill. He would send me drinks across the bar every time he was in the same bar I was in. Finally, one rainy Saturday night I felt guilty and I went over to thank him for all the drinks (I was very poor at the time). Much to my surprise I found out he was a very nice guy. Handsome and popular but still not my type which I told him every time he asked me to move in with him. Finally, I agreed to move in with him more out of convenience for both of us than love. Bill traveled a lot with his job at RCA. He would be gone for months at a time. I also wanted a job in center city Philadelphia which I eventually got. Moving in with Bill I could save on rent (I foolishly took a pay cut with my new banking job from $90  week to $70 a week). Bill would have someone to look after his garden apartment in Pennsauken, New Jersey; just over the bridge from Philadelphia. I turned down his request to move in with him many times. I didn't want to be "held back" while I looked for Mr. Right. He told me I had all the freedom I needed and/or wanted. He said "A caged bird never sings." With that promise I moved in with Bill in February 1965. And true to his word, Bill never "held me back." He only asked that I be discreet in my search. And I was. 

However, something funny happened over the years. I grew to love Bill. Even if he wasn't "my type", I discovered I loved him. I could never leave him, which I threatened to do many times when we had a big fight, often over silly things.

From 1965 on to 2013 I had many affairs. Some I almost left Bill but the objects of my affections either turned out to be bums, con artists, or married. The two married men I truly loved but they didn't want to leave their wives or family, which I understood. And also, I didn't want to live a life of being a "mistress." I wanted to be the sole person in that other person's life.

For many years I looked for Mr. Right in all the wrong places, literally. Who was Mr. Right? Generally I'm physically attracted to a guy about 5'8 and 140 lbs, on the nerdy side. Shy, caring, smart, strong, and intelligent. I never was attracted to the Hollywood Swimmer type like Troy Donahue. Of course I encountered a lot of "nerdy" types during my years long search but none of them worked out. 

My years of searching was either someone was interested in me and I wasn't interested in them or vice versa. Never a CLICK!

Then, purely by serendipity, I met Pat. Ironically I met him through this blog even though he wasn't a blog follower. Mine or anyone else's. 

Pat just happened to see a photo of my on the Internet sitting in the gallery at the Delaware State Legislature waiting to testify for same sex marriage. 

Me sitting in the gallery at the Delaware State Legistlaturewaiting to testify for same sex marriage 

He didn't know anything about me except my name. He looked up my name on the Internet and found my blog. He left a comment on my blog which led to us doing FaceTime. At that time I still didn't know he was The One. He was just a nice guy who contacted me by my blog like others have done. 

He told me he was preparing to retired from his job with the Tornonto Police Department (yes, he's Canadian) and wanted to take a holiday. He suggested visiting me. I said "sure" but no way was he going to stay here at this house. I don't know him or any others via my blog except Spo and Sean (Sassy Bear). Besides, Bill doesn't like visitors in the house staying overnight.

Pat arranged to visit Lewes August 16th. I arranged a hotel reservation for him which he paid for. 

While working outback in our backyard I get a call from him that afternoon stating his hotel reservation wasn't there. WHAT? I made that reservation!

I thought this was a ruse to stay here at our house. No way was that going to happen. I told Pat I would drive down to Lewes (four miles away) and check what happened with his reservation. As I pull  up in the parking lot of the hotel I see they guy approaching my car. I thought "WTF? This parking lot attendant going to give me grief over parking?" Me, who works at another hotel in Lewes and frequently have non hotel guest park in OUR parking lot? Really? So I move my car to a farther location. This guy FOLLOWS me. Now I'm really pissed. "WTF?" So there I am, scowling at this guy as he approaches my car. He's smiling and then says "Are you Ron?" Initially I'm confused. "How does he know my name?" Then dumb me, it clicks. This must be Pat. I never saw what he looked like full body before. I only saw his head. I just assumed he was one of the several folks who I had talked to on FaceTime over the years. Pat has an Everyman look (why he's so good at his part-time job as a movie extra). I didn't recognize him out of context. When I realized who he was, we had a good laugh over my misconception. But at that time I still was guarded about his "no hotel reservation." However, when we went to the hotel, they DID make a mistake. His reservation was for the NEXT night! Still, Pat needed a place to stay for that night. That's where I walked him over to a nearby hotel called The Beacon Motel. Not as swanky as the hotel where I made his reservation (Hotel Blue) but still nice if more beachy hotel (sand granules on the floors). 

Pat made his reservation at The Beacon Motel. I asked him to dinner later and told him I would come down to meet him and we would walk to downtown Lewes to Cafe Azafran. As I was leaving him I noticed him walking away from me. "Wait a minute!" I watched him walk and I liked what I saw. I'm big on the way someone walks. As I was watching him he turned to look at me and this was the picture I took of him.

When I realized Pat was The One. He on his way to the Beacon Motel. This is who I was looking for my whole adult life!

At that moment I realized 

THIS WAS THE ONE!

I liked this guy! 

That was ten years ago today folks. What a ten years it has been! I've had a wonderful life with Bill but there was a lot I didn't do that I wanted to do with Bill. One of the main things being is travel. Bill doesn't like to travel. When I traveled I traveled by myself. Bill went with me once (to Provincetown) but stayed in his motel room the whole time. 

Also, something else I was very attracted to Pat physically. To me he's hot! That walk! His manner! His personality! And to top everything else off, we have a LOT in common. Bill and I don't. Pat was like another version of ME. We often joke that in a past life we were the amoeba. In fact check out Pat's Amoeba T-shirt he wore that momentous day.

Pat's "Amoeba" T-shirt - Pat in Lewes August 16, 2016

Today is the tenth anniversary of our meeting that day. The past ten years of my friendship with Pat have been a dream come true for me. 

Pat is everything I was looking for in someone when I first embarked on looking for Mr. Right. 

Coincidentally Pat just called me on FaceTime. These days we often talk several times a day on FaceTime and text each other every day. For the past ten years and before COVID we used to get together four times a year for our trips to California (LA and Palm Springs), Philadelphia, and Canada. COVID put a stop to those trips and now that I am a full-time caregiver for Bill he past two and a half years I've only seen Pat in person once. That was about this time last year that Pat came down to help me with my cataract surgery. Pat is planning on visiting again this summer, hopefully before the days get too short. 

Happy Anniversary Pat! 

Happy Anniversary - 58 Years Today!

 

Me and Bill 1964 Pennsauken, New Jersey

Today is the 58th anniversary of the day I met my partner/husband Bill.  

July 3rd, 1964 on a rainy night Saturday night in center city Philadelphia at the Westbury Bar at 15th and Spruce Streets I talked to Bill for the first time. The prior six months Bill had been sending me complimentary gin and tonics. We were both alone in the bar that night so I thought it was the right thing to do to thank him for all those gin and tonics. I had no intention of forming a relationship with him or even going home with him that night, I was just being polite. I had never talked to him before because I didn't want to be seen as "easy" among his friend who he was always with prior to that July 3rd summer evening at about nine o'clock. Besides, Bill wasn't even my "type." I had just assumed that Bill was one of these arrogant guys who thought they could get any body they wanted by just sending them free drinks. Oh how wrong I was. Of course I went home with him that night (oh was he ever smooth) and the rest is history.

Fifty-eight years later I'm now Bill's full-time caregiver. The in between years have been very interesting. We both have had a good life. Our living arrangements have changed but we're still having a good life. 

Happy anniversary Bill! 

Got Through Another Christmas

Bill's Christmas card to me

 Ah, the day after Christmas, another Christmas goes into the memory bank. Always seemed anticlimactic to me. 

I am one of those people for whom Christmas is a rough time. In the past I've been able to deal with Christmas by volunteering for work on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. In the past fourteen years that was at the hotel where I worked. On Christmas Eve I would watch the 1951 movie version of "A Christmas Carol" with Alister Sim. I don't know why, but that always gave me a level of comfort, being in the hotel by myself with only a few grandparents in town to visit their married children and grandkids. They stay at the hotel because they can only take so much of their grandkids energy. These folks are invariable nice and we always have a good chat.

However, this year I'm not working at the hotel because I have to be here for Bill. 

Bill and I stopped doing the Christmas Ritual many years ago. We both like the bright multi-colored lights and an occasional Christmas song but spare both of us the "Ho! Ho! Ho!" (which I dread, there's always one person or commercial that inflects that pain on us every Christmas season). Who says "Ho! Ho! Ho!" anyway besides the phony Santas in the flood of Christmas season commercials everything from cars to Flex Seal?

Our private and personal way of celebrating the Yuletide is exchanging Christmas cards. This year I didn't get Bill a Christmas card because of his eyesight, he couldn't read it. If I could get a Christmas card that had blinking lights, he would like that (he likes light which he can see, color is even better). But a card with syrupy sentiments? Not so much. 

This year though Bill gave me a card that he made personally. Folks, this was the best card ever! Bill worked for weeks to write his feelings on the card. Bless his heart. He tries so hard. I could read his card. This man, who has devoted his life to me. To making me happy, secure and content. Few people are as fortunate as I am. 

Ron and Bill's 57th Anniversary

 

Bill and me 1964 at his Pennsauken apartment

Yes, today is our 57th anniversary. Fifty-seven years ago this evening I walked over to thank the anonymous gentleman who was sending me drinks across the bar for the previous three months. 

The location was the corner of 15th and Spruce Streets, Philadelphia, PA. The place was the Westbury Bar, my gay bar of choice in those furtive days of 1964, way before Stonewall liberation. 

I've recounted this story many times before on this sixteen year old blog so I'll try and make it a little different this time, and shorten it. 

The previous year I had got out of the Army after a three year enlistment. I would have made the Army a career for twenty and possibly thirty years but because I was a HOMOSEXUAL, that was not allowed. I barely got out of the Army with an honorable discharge anyway because I was station at Ft. Meade, Maryland and the National Security Agency. I didn't ask for that job but that was the job that was assigned to me after I finished six month of Army Security Agency training at Ft. Devens, Massachusetts. To work at NSA one had to have a top secret clearance and being a HOMOSEXUAL would definitely disqualify me from serving HONORABLY. By the way, this whole thing about not having gays in the military (we weren't called "gay" back then by the way, HOMOSEXUAL was about the nicest term. I don't have to recite the other terms but we all know what they were - and still are to this day.

Anyway, to make a long story short (and not get caught up on that injustice), I departed the Army in January of 1963 and came out totally three moths later in April when my Mother caught me with my boyfriend of the moment in my apartment during a surprise Saturday morning visit.

From April 1963 to July 1964 I would make almost weekly treks to Philadelphia with friends to the Westbury Bar, in search of Mr. Wonderful, Prince Charming, The Love of My Life, etc.

I lived in a furnished one bedroom apartment in Coatesville, Pennsylvania; a steel town suburb forty-three miles west of downtown Philadelphia. 

I was poor. I barely had enough month to "go into town." At that time drinks at the bar were .75 cents. I always gave a dollar, a twenty-five cent tip. That was understood. 

I always took three one dollar bills in with me to the bar when I visited The Westbury with my friends Ron (yes, another "Ron" and Ed. Both of whom have since departed this earth). 

I didn't have a car but both Ron and Ed had cars. They would take turns hauling me in with them. I guess I was good company (I hope).

One Saturday evening while Ron, Ed and I were engaged in some gossipy conversation (as was our wont) at our usual corner of the bar, Jerry the Bartender tapped me on the back of my hand that was on the bar to get my attention. He had a fresh glass of gin and tonic (my poison of choice at that tender age) and indicated by nodding his head in the opposite direction to a smiling black haired older man on the other side of the bar, near the skeet ball machine. He said that gentleman was sending me a complimentary drink. "Oh no" I thought. I had seen that "gentleman" often in the bar playing skeet ball with his friends, they were quite boisterous at times. Oh sure, he was good-looking and popular but not really "my type" (I prefer slight, nerdy guys with glasses). This gentleman was athletic, classically handsome and popular and older. NOT what I was looking for in Prince Charming. I nodded my head in acknowledgment towards his direction and resumed my conversation with my friends Ron and Ed. I said something like "Can you believe that? He thinks all he has to do is buy me a drink and I'll go home with him! NOT GOING TO HAPPEN." 

Of course I took the drink, it was free and I was poor. And if this person wanted to send me a drink that was just fine with me but there was no way I was going to be just another notch on his gun (no pun intended).

Thus began a regular ritual that every time he was in the bar he would send me a drink. I would acknowledge his generosity then resume my air headed conversations with my friends Ron and Ed. And yes, those conversations were of no substance believe me. This was when I was very young (twenty-two) and all caught up in the new freedom of Gaydom and a Place Of Our Own To Be Ourselves. 

My friends would often say "Why don't you go home with him? I would! He's good-looking!" But no, I had absolutely no intention of EVER going home with THAT GUY. Harumph! He thinks he can "buy my" with a drink? Besides, he wasn't "my type." 

Then can July 3rd, 1964. Again, I was driven to Philadelphia by Ron and Ed (I forget whose car, probably Ed's). They had someplace else to go and left me at the bar. It was early Saturday evening, maybe about ten o'clock. Well, maybe that doesn't sound "early" but for gay bars at that time the real action didn't start until eleven or later. That's when everyone made their entrances, all carefully dressed to attract the most attention from the same sex in the bar that night.

I was standing at our usual spot, the far corner of the bar, deep in my thoughts. By this time I had gotten to know Jerry The Bartender pretty well. In fact I had a crush on him (who doesn't get crushes on the bartender?) but Jerry, while always pleasant, never gave me any indication of a mutual interest in me. Then came The Drink. Jerry pushed the glass of gin and tonic in front of me as he had so often the past three of so months.  He didn't even have to say anything. He just smiled. I knew who sent the drink. 

I looked across the bar towards the skeet ball machine where The Gentleman Who Sends Me The Drinks usually was stationed with his friends playing skeet ball. There was no one there. Jerry saw me looking and he nodded his head to the gentleman sitting at one of the tables to the left of the jukebox. 

Tables you say? Yes, back then there was a smattering of low, round tables with one of those cheap netted glass bowls that held a flickering candle. 

I looked towards the direction to where Jerry nodded. There HE WAS. Sitting by himself. I never saw him sitting by himself before. He was always with his posse of friends. 

There weren't too many people in the bar. I nodded to him in acknowledgment of the drink he sent to me. He must have send me a couple dozen drinks over the previous three months. 

So there we were. Him sitting by himself at that low table with the candle flickering in that cheap Italian restaurant candle holder. I'm standing at the corner of the bar, BY MYSELF.

I thought to myself, because I was feeling a little bit guilty of accepting ALL THOSE DRINKS, I would at least thank him. And that's what I decided to do.

I left my coveted spot on the corner of the bar (one had to stake out coveted spots in gay bars in those days) and walked over to his table. I wanted to thank him for the drinks and nothing else. I swear NOTHING ELSE. I certainly had no intention of going home with him THAT night. I just wanted to be decent and thank him for all the drinks he had sent over to me the previous three or so months. 

Now, I was fully prepared to an exit. I expected him to put a LOT OF PRESSURE on me to go home with him because he had bought me all those drinks. I had an exit plan. I was going to thank him and walk out of the bar to the gay bar across the street, The Allegro (no longer there by the day, now it's the Kimmel Music Center). 

I walk over to him sitting at the table; and still standing I looked down at him and said "Thank you for the drinks and all the other drinks you have sent to me." He looked up at me, smiled and said "You're welcome." And that was it. No jumping on me with heavy, desperate, aggressive behavior as I expected. I had often experience that behavior from other men who tried to pick me up, sometimes with a complimentary drink (they think they own you then) or just trapping me in the corner of the bar (which happened a few times too, I literally had to get rude and bust out of being physically blocked from walking around the bar). Yes Virginia, this was what it was like back in the Bad Old Days when gay bars were routinely raided around election time. When one feared being "outed" by having one's name in the paper for being arrested during one of those raids. This was even before disco came to gay bars and straights found out gay bars were a cool place to dance. These were serious, cruising days folks. 

Well, I was a bit surprised by his gentleness and lack of aggressiveness. And to be quite frank about it, he wasn't at all as I expected. Oh sure, he still wasn't "my type" but he was handsome and masculine. Not a feminine bone in his body, which I found immediately attractive. In fact he had a deep masculine voice. I liked that. And his body, which of course I did a quick visual check, was ......nice. Hmmmm. 

Anyway, I decided to sit and talk awhile. He seemed like a nice guy and I found out he was a nice guy. And of course I went home with him that evening after he asked me if I "would like to stop over at his place for a drink." (standard operating line in a gay bar pickup folks, sorry I couldn't relate a more original pickup line). 

He lived in the opposite direction of Philadelphia, to the East. He lived in Pennsauken New Jersey which was across the Ben Franklin Bridge.Twelve miles to the east of Philadelphia. 

When he asked me over to his place I told him that I didn't have a ride home (I had been stranded before and wasn't about to be stranded again). He said he would take me home the next day. My apartment in Coatesville was fifty-six miles from his apartment in Pennsauken, New Jersey. That impressed me. And I trusted him. By the way, I did finally "score" with Jerry the Bartender (before I met Bill) and HE STRANDED ME after we had our intimate encounter. I was left wandering the streets of center city Philly in the early morning hours of Sunday morning until I could catch the first train to Coatesville, and this after I had to wait until Jerry closed up the bar at 3:00 AM or so. I didn't like Jerry so much after then. HE was the scorekeeper and here I thought I was in love with him. Just goes to show you. Anyway, back to Bill.

I stayed that night with Bill at his two bedroom, garden apartment in Pennsauken, New Jersey. And yes, I did have a drink. In his refrigerator he had just about every kind of juice drink you could imagine. No food, lots of juice drinks. Apparently I wasn't the first guy Bill took back to his apartment. Oh well.

Thus began my relationship with Bill. 

Over the next seven months Bill would pick me up at my apartment in Coatesville, which remember was FIFTY-SIX miles from his apartment in Pennsauken, New Jersey, and take me back to his apartment for the weekend. We did that almost every weekend. Bill always had something planned for us to do. I liked him and he liked me. 

Then came a time he wanted me to move in with him. Initially I turned him down. I told him that he wasn't the person I was looking for.  I liked him but I didn't love him.  I told him it wouldn't be fair to him or me because if I moved in with him I would still be "going out", looking for Mr. Right. Without hesitation he said, "If you moved in with me you can still go out, just be discreet about it." He said "A caged bird never sings." And he would never want to "hold me back." He also said he traveled a lot (he worked for RCA then General Electric as an electronics technician) and would be gone for months at a time and I would have that time to myself to do whatever I wanted. 

I still hesitated because that wasn't my idea of a relationship. I had pictured meeting Prince Charming and living happily ever after, monogamous to one another. Not still hanging out at the bars looking for Mr. Perfect. 

Bill got angry. The first time in our relationship that I saw his anger. He said if I didn't move in with he I would never see him again. 

Now I had a real dilemma. I liked Bill, really did but I was just afraid of being trapped.  He insisted that I wouldn't be "trapped." He said "Do whatever you want to do just be with me."

And that my friends was the beginning of my life long love affair with Bill. 

During our fifty-seven years together I can remember at least a half a dozen times I was going to leave him for someone else (thank God I didn't do that). We've had our share of battles, all verbal. Nothing physical. If there was anything physical I would have been one the first times.

During our fifty-seven years together we've lived in two apartment, purchased one townhouse in center city Philly (all so I could walk to work and the gay bars, yes I continued to go to the gay bars on the weekends). We built two houses. One in Pennsylvania near my parents where we lived for twenty-five years until the high Pennsylvania school property tax forced us to me to the more tax friendly state of Delaware fifteen years ago, where we live now and where both of us will finish out our lives.

Bill worked until he was fifty-five years old at which time he took early retirement because his company wanted to send him to Africa for a year. At that time I was making enough money at the bank to support both of us so I urged him to take early retirement (which he got a lump sum payment) and stay at home with our Pomeranian dogs. Of course the best laid plans often go awry and a few years after that I lost my job at the bank (bank mergers) but I managed to keep us afloat with other jobs. Nimble Ron here. 

We have had an extraordinary life folks. I will always be so grateful that Bill send me those drinks and persisted until I finally gave in. By the way, he told me later "I knew I would always get you!"  I told him "If I knew that was your attitude I never would have come over and thank you for those drinks." 

 

Bill and me on our wedding Day July 3, 2013

But fate has been good to me folks. Even now as Bill is fading here from the after effects of his two strokes in January (he's on home hospice care). Bill may not be the strapping endless energy driven man that he was fifty-seven years ago when I first met him on that rainy Saturday night in July, but he still loves me in spite of all the aggravation I've caused him over the years. All the drama that I've had with affairs and my jobs, and through it all Bill has stuck with me. That's true love folks. 

I never thought I truly loved Bill until one of those times I was going to leave him for Another Man ("Harold" was his name, God I'm glad I didn't do that). When I informed Bill I was leaving our home and getting an apartment for me and "Harold" (God, I'm so glad I didn't), there were no histrionics from Bill. Just after I told him, he looked to the ground then up at me and said "Please don't leave me." This was after one of our big fights again folks. Every time I was going to leave him was after a fight. 

At that moment he looked up at me from his lowered eyes and said "Please don't leave me" in his lowered voice I realized at that time I LOVE THIS MAN. What was I thinking? How could I ever LEAVE him? If I did I would spend the rest of my life wondering about what happened to him. 

Over the years Bill had become so dependent on me. For one thing I couldn't imagine him living on his own. But more important I couldn't imagine my life without him in it. 

And that my friends is where we are today. I doubt this time next year we will together to celebrate fifty-eight years together. 

Bill is getting weaker every day. He needs me to feed, bath and dress him. His eyesight is gone, he can't read or do any of his projects of things that give him pleasure. He has profound hearing loss and has to wear a hearing aid which he can't even put in his ears now, I have to do it. His cognitive abilities are slipping, which is so said. It frustrates him that he doesn't know how to control the volume on his hearing aids, the heat control on his heating pad or even how to use the remote control for the over head fan. But he knows who I am and is not in physical pain. And that's what I keep telling myself. He knows who I am and he's not in physical pain.

I lavish him with attention every day. Even though his speech is slurred and I have a hard time understanding him, I sometimes have conversation with him about The Old Days. We can't talk about our dogs (total of five Pomeranians), too sad. 

These days Bill like to sit under the awning of our back deck. He goes out for a walk once or twice a day down to the cul de sac in our development. I take him out for a daily ride.

We've had a good life folks. He still have some time life. One day this will end and I will be sad beyond my comprehension. I had a preview of that feeling when I thought I had lost him after they had air lifted him by helicopter to Thomas Jefferson University Hospital in Philadelphia for a week's stay in their ICU unit.  I thought I lost him and felt so devastated because I didn't even have a change to say "goodbye." But I've been given a reprieve. After a week's stay in Philadelphia and a two week stay in a rehab hospital, Bill has been at home with me. And now we are living the final chapter of our wonderful lives together. 

Oh how many times have I thank the Gods above that I went over to him that Saturday night fifty-seven years ago and said "Thank you for the drinks."

Bill and me this morning on our 57th Anniversary

Bill's Home!

Bill sleeping peacefully in his bedroom last night

 Bill is home!

The last two days have been a whirlwind. 

Seems a lot longer than two days.

Bill was discharged from the rehab hospital in Dover where he has been staying for the past two weeks. 

I had a lot of papers to sign to get him out of there. One of the concerns I raised was continuing his medications until Bill's VA automatic prescriptions were in place. I was assured by Bill's doctor the prescriptions would be called in to Rite Aid, which is the procedure the VA uses, until the vet's prescriptions are in the VA system. 

We got Bill in the car without too much trouble and then we headed south on U.S. Coastal Highway (U.S. 1) to Georgetown to pick up Bill's prescriptions so we could bridge his medications until the VA kicked in. 

We got down to Georgetown, I pulled up to the drive-in window of Rite-Aid, give Bill's name and date of birth and . . . . . . . . . . you guessed it. They had NOTHING.  I was afraid of that. And, to add even more confusion, just as the woman at the drive-in window was telling me that they didn't have Bill's prescriptions, I got a phone call from the home health aid worker, she was AT OUT HOUSE. I wasn't expecting her on Friday. She said she was coming Saturday. What to do? I was confused. 

I made the decision to go home and meet up with her. She was waiting in her car when we drove into our driveway. 

I invited her in our house. Gave her all the pertinent information and filled out a lot of paperwork, again. Friday was a day for paperwork. She said the home health aid worker would be coming in next Tuesday and Thursday (I think). This is a physical occupational therapist. 

After signing all her documents, she left and it was just me and Bill now. How to navigate with a 180 pound man who has a great deal of trouble getting to a standing position? And the bathroom?  I'm a bit squeamish but like my friend Glenn, who recently lost his longtime partner/husband, I quickly got over the squeamish part. You do what you have to do.

The first night home was hell. I didn't want Bill going downstairs because of his weakness. I put him in the side bedroom. But there was a problem, Bill hasn't slept in a bed for years. He sleeps in a recliner type lounge chair. My brother, his wife and their daughter that lives them sleep in giant lounger chairs. I don't know how they do it, I couldn't sleep that way.

Bill in the bed that didn't work

Bill's recliner chair is in his bedroom down those thirteen stairs I didn't want him to take.  I am afraid he will fall and really cause some serious damage like a broken limb or even worse, a broken hip.

I undressed him and managed somehow to swing his legs on the bed, which was his old bed he uses when he lived in Pennsylvania, when we could all walk around and do normal things like it seems everybody else does now. Oh for those days without the physical infirmities we have now.

Once I got him in the bed then he said he had to go to the bathroom. Up and out of the bed I had to swing his dead weight of 180 lbs., which was very painful for him not to mention my back. The thought ran through my head, "Did I take on too much?  Can I manage? What happens to Bill if I can't manage?"

I got him in the bathroom and put him on one of those commode fixtures that the rehab unit sent me by mail. Which I had to put together, which I hate putting things together. Thank God for You Tube.

Twice he had to go to the bathroom. Twice. I had undress him for bed. Normally he sleeps in his clothes. 

During the night I went into his room to check on him and he was lying there, starring at the ceiling, clearly uncomfortable. Oh my, this isn't going to work. 

We managed somehow to get through the night but neither one of us got much sleep. I had to figure out a new routine for Bill. We decided to try those Thirteen Steps to his basement bedroom. We did that later in the day but first I had to get gas so I took Bill for one of his rides that he so loves. Bill has some difficulty getting in and out of our car but he manages. In fact when we came back he took his walker and went for an exercise walk himself down around the cul de sac in our development. Yesterday was a mild and sunny day and not too windy (48 degrees). 

Bill with walker outside

By the time he got back he was pooped. Time to try my walk in shower with a bench. I knew someday that built in bench would come in handy.

That was another ordeal getting him undressed and keep him warm while I wetting him down with the extension wand on my show head. So tiring for Bill, me too!

After we got in Bill had to rest. I let him rest for about an hour then suggested the try The Steps. Bill was all for that. We proceeded to the steps and very carefully, Bill grasping onto the banister and me holding onto him to steady him, we descended down the steps to his man cave bedroom which he has as a shrine to me (not my idea). 

Oh he was so happy to be in his bedroom, finally!

I told him I repainted the wall and thoroughly vacuumed cleaned all the corners. He had a almost brand new bedroom. 

Bill slept in his bedroom last night, fully clothed which is the way he's been sleeping for the past ten years or so. 

I woke up about 2:30 AM for my nightly bathroom visit and I went down to see how Bill was doing. He had the light on and wanted to go to his bathroom. In his bathroom we don't have the contraption over the toilet, instead we used the pee plastic bottle that I absconded with from one of my hospital stays (I forgot to bring Bill's plastic pee bottle down from the rehab hospital, too much going on that day). 

We managed with the bottle. I actually have to aim his "thing" in the bottle or else he goes on the floor thinking he went into the bottle. Sorry to be so gross but just giving you an idea of the actualities of home health care. You do everything and I mean EVERYTHING. My back was killing me. 

I managed to get back to sleep until sometime after 6 AM this morning. I went down to check Bill again and he had managed to go to his bathroom. He said he used the bottle but he only got part of his pee in the bottle. Some pee ended up on the floor (thank God I have a tile floor in his bathroom, and the rest he got on his yoga pants, which I promptly took off and put in the washing machine. I've used that washing machine this week more than I have in the past two weeks combined. But I was so glad he managed to go to the bathroom by himself. Now we have a routine. I just don't want him to go on the wall to wall carpeting that he has in his bedroom. If he can managed that short distance from his bedroom to his bathroom, that's super! I was so relieved. 

However, I still had one unresolved problem. How could Bill quickly get in touch with me if he had an emergency? I would frequently check in on him but how would he communicate with me he needed my help other than hollering. My bedroom is at the far end of our house and he's in the basement. Pat came up with a solution, a baby camera. Viola! I ordered one from Amazon. It will be here Tuesday. Thank God, I can monitor him on my iPhone. Another thing I have to setup but something that is totally necessary to give me peace of mind. With a baby camera all he has to do is say "Hey Ronnie!" and I'll hear him on my iPhone just like my Ring doorbell.

It starting snowing outside while I was writing this very long blog update. Bill's sitting in our sunroom now, cozied up with multiple blanket and his new ski cap, watching the snow falling gently. We have no where to go today. Just me and Bill, caring for one another. 

Bill snoozing in sun room as snow falls gently outside

Brad - Summer 1980

Continuing with my video blog memories series, this video is a compilation of my last boyfriend, Brad. Yes folks, I have had a long stretch between boyfriends. I never had another boyfriend until you know who in 2013 (check yesterday's blog).

I met Brad in the summer of 1980 at the Drury Lane bar in Philadelphia.  I didn't know it at the time I met Brad that he was homeless, but he was. He had been thrown out of his boyfriend's home and was staying temporarily with a married couple, who were friends of him and his boyfriend. 

At that time Bill and I were building our house in Downingtown, Pennsylvania, thirty-seven miles west of Philadelphia. Since the house wasn't completed, I rented an apartment at 2124 Spruce Street in center city Philadelphia so I could continue to walk to work at the Girard bank. Bill lived in our house in progress in Downingtown.

After spending the night with Brad at his temporary residence, he told me he was looking for a place to live........temporarily...... until he could find his own place.  I told him he could stay at my apartment until he found his own place.

It didn't take long for me to discover that Brad would never find his own place because he didn't have a job.  He also had a drug and alcohol problem.

I fell in love with him.  I thought I could save him.

Me and Brad at Bob McCamley's single wide in Georgetown, DE early in our relationship - when he still "loved" me - 1980

I arranged for a job interview for him. He showed up an hour late, drunk. I was mortified.

I was in love with him. I thought I could save him.

I overlooked his drug problem (uppers and downers and marijuana). 

I gave him money. 

I supported him.

I loved him.

I was a fool.

I asked him to go with me for my annual vacation to Provincetown, Massachusetts.  My friends Bob McCamley and his boyfriend Gino would be in Provincetown at the same time, as would our mutual friend Joe Murtha.

Brad, Gino and Bob in Provincetown, Mass 1980

While in Provincetown, Brad met a married couple and spent the night with them. That's when I discovered Brad also had another problem, he was promiscuous . 

I loved Brad. His actions hurt me terribly.  The pictures of us biking was after he returned from spending the night with married couple.

The happy photos of us on the sailboat ride was prior to him spending a night with the married couple. I can count on two hands (and maybe a foot or two) the times in my life that I've truly been extremely happy. That sail boat ride with our friends was one such time. Even when my friend Bob McCamley tossed our styrofoam cooler in the bay (and then retrieved it), was all fun.  

That week I experienced the extreme highs of a summertime romance and the extreme lows. 

When we returned home from our holiday in Provincetown, our relationship continued for a few more months. Brad said he was sorry.

Then one day I came home from work and Brad was in my rented apartment with a biker guy.  When I entered my apartment I asked the biker guy what he was doing there.  He said "What's it to you?  Who are you?"  I told him "I'm the person who is paying for this apartment and you can leave now".  He said he wasn't going to leave.  I told him he could leave on his own or I could thrown him down the stairs.  He left on his own.

After he left Brad and I had a furious row.  Brad felt I had embarrassed him.  I told Brad I wasn't renting a brothel for his tricks. Our arguing eventually escalated to the point where Brad, who was drunk, threw his arm against my throat and screamed at me to "SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"  He was choking me.  I couldn't breath.  I lost my balance and fell on the floor, Brad still choking me.  I don't think he realized he was choking me.  I was flailing about on the floor and my ankle hit the knob on the radiator, causing a cut and blood to shoot out. I couldn't catch my breath. All I could think was I didn't have a chance to take a deep breath before he started to choke me.

When Brad saw the blood he stopped choking me and took his arm away from my throat.  He then realized what he was doing.  He started to say her and over again "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"  

Sitting on the floor, I think we both realized how close we came to a tragedy.  

After sitting there a while and had a chance to think, I told Brad that as much as I loved him, our relationship would never work out. I had planned to leave Bill and have Brad move in with me.  What a big mistake that would have been.  My common sense seemed to have returned when I realized as much as I loved Brad, we could never live together.  He would destroy me.  

Brad had moved from his hometown of Cincinnati to Philadelphia to be with his boyfriend Gene, a bartender at a local Philadelphia gay bar.  Gene threw him out, which I now know why.  Brad's drinking and drug problem and promiscuity. 

As much as it hurt me I knew I had to part ways with Brad. He would drag me down with him. I was a fool in love. An old fool. At least I thought I was "old" at that time. Brad was only 26 years old. I was 37 years old. I thought I was a sugar daddy. Maybe I was. 

Me and Brad at The Cottage restaurant in Provincetown, Mass 1980

I bought a one way bus ticket to Cincinnati.  I gave Brad that bus ticket and a $100.  I watched him leave from my fourth floor window apartment as he walked down the street to the bus station. 

My heart was broken.  I loved him.  Why?  I cannot give you a reasonable explanation other than I felt a special connection with him.  He did like me at one time but later on he told me "I just fell out of love with you."  Hearing those words so casually fall from his lips hurt me as deeply.  I never know I could hurt other than physical pain could hurt as much. Again, I don't know why I would fall in love with someone who didn't love me, wasn't a responsible person, who was promiscuous and who was an alcoholic and drug addict. But I loved him.  Maybe I was reliving my youth, a youth I never had.  

Of course after Brad left, I regretted what I had done. I sent him dozens of letters begging him to come back.  He answered a few then nothing. 

The hurt I felt I thought I would never recover from. But I did.  But something had died within me.  I vowed never again to let anyone get that close to me. Never to fall in love with anyone again.  I loved and still love Bill but that was different.  Bill and I had an "agreement" when he asked me to move in with him that I was always free.  He would never cage or restrict me, as long as I was discreet.  Bill often said that you can't make someone love you.  I know that now. 

Years went by. I never heard from Brad again.

In 2012 I send Brad a Christmas card.  I often send Christmas cards to people I haven't been in contact with for years. Sometimes they send me one back, sometimes not.  Brad wrote back.

He suggested that he would like to visit Rehoboth Beach one more time before he died. Brad told me he had AIDS. He told me he wouldn't stay with me though but would prefer a hotel.  I didn't offer to pay for his hotel room.  He didn't come. I had long ago fallen out of love with Brad. I bear him no ill will but I wasn't about to pick up the tab again.

Brad - about 2013 at his home in Cincinnati, Ohio

I didn't hear from him for the next few years. Then I received a note from him asking me to call him.  I called him.  I could hardly understand him, his words were that slurred. He asked if I still had the "porn" picture of him.  And if I did could I send it too him. He wanted to show it to his friends. I had it. I sent it to him.  

Brad's "porn" picture which I took impromptu when we were staying at Angle's Landing in Provincetown, Mass 0980 - this picture was to posed. Brad sometimes walked around naked. The cat was the owner's cat (Angela) and Brad just picked her up to put her out and I just happened to have my camera handy - lucky shot - not posed - the best kind of photos!

A couple of years ago I received a phone call from a friend of his. He told me that Brad had died. 

I hope Brad had a happy life when he returned to his hometown of Cincinnati.  Later photos of him that his friend sent me show Brad smiling.  

Brad and his friend in Cincinnati, Ohio about 2013

Brad (on the right) with friends in Cincinnati, Ohio about 2013

Even though Brad and I had a rocky relationship I will always remember Brad's gentle nature. I think that's what I fell in love with, his gentle nature. And of course he was a pretty good-looking guy in his prime. I have to admit there was and still is a soft spot in my heart for him.  But it would never have worked out. But that summer, ah, that summer. 





Brad died September 17, 2014. Rest in peace dear Brad. Thank you for the good memories.You were part of my life. 

Chick and Joy

Emil "Chick" and Joy Tkachick - 2002

Yesterday I received a letter from a man I never met.  He was the son of my Mother's longtime neighbors Emil or "Chick" as we always knew him, and Joy Tkachick.  

The letter was from Chick's son.  He told me of his father's passing last year as well as his mother's passing.  

Chick's letter read:

We hope this note finds you and your family healthy, happy and ready for the new year in 2017/ 2016 was a sad year for the Tkachick family as both Dad ("Chick") and Mom ("Joy") passed into the arms of the Lord. We wanted to thank you for your friendship and support to our family our the years. My parents always said they lived in "a caring and loving community" and we are proud that you were part of that family. We profoundly miss them on this first holiday without their presence, but we are still celebrating long lives well lived. We take comfort in the fact that they are together again in peace. So we wish you and your families all the best during the holidays and for the coming year. May God bless you and keep you safe.

Bob and Sue Tkachick

I am sad to learn of the passing of both Chick and Joy. They were always to kind to my parents and to me and my brother, who lives in the family house which adjoins their property.  

The remains of an old barn on Chick's property adjoining my father's garden

After my father died in 2010, I used to garden the acre of land adjoining Chick's property. I always marveled at the beauty of Chicks' seven plus acres of land, which he kept a dozen or so sheep.  Springtime was especially beautiful with Chick's naturalized daffodils blanketing his naturalized backyard.

Naturalized daffodils on Chick's property

Good neighbors are so important to ones quality of life.  My parents were so fortunate to have Chick and Joy as neighbors. I am fortunate to have good neighbors where I live now.  Believe me, I appreciate my good fortune now because when I lived in Pennsylvania I had awful neighbors but I won't go into that at this time.

This is the time to remember the kindness that Chick and Joy always showed to my family and even now, that his son took the time to notify me of their passing.  

Emil "Chick" Tkachick - 2002

With all the bad things going on in the world it's nice to see kindness like this. 

Have a very happy new year!

Chick with my Mom 2002 
(the fence was to keep his sheep in, not his neighbors away)

Caregiver

Bill has lunch on his last day at the hospital (he left most of the food)

Last month, after witnessing Bill slug through another ordeal in dealing with the VA for him health care I decided that I would be his official caregiver.  

This is a job I should have undertaken years earlier but I was either too lazy or just wanted to respect Bill for his independence. 

When Bill and I first met I was twenty-two years old and Bill thirty-five. Even though my three years in the Army (from age 18 to 21) matured me immensely, I was still in many ways a (have to be careful with what I say) "kid" and Bill was the "man."  After all he was almost old enough to be my father.  He was only five years younger than my Mother.

Over the years our roles have gradually changed.  

When I met Bill in 1964 he was making three times my income.  When we build our house in 1980 I was making twice what Bill was making.  I advised him to take early retirement (at 55 years of age) because I was making enough money for the both of us.  Of course you know how that worked out. Two years later Mellon Bank bought Girard Bank where I worked.  Four years later I lost my job.

Fortunately I got another job at another bank.  Then I began an odyssey of jobs from working at two more banks, as a consultant and finally as a hotel front desk clerk.  In between those jobs I had a summer job as a gardener at $8.65 an hour on a rich woman's estate.  But I digress.

Through all this adventure, I managed to keep us afloat even through the housing crises of 2006 where we almost went under with our house on the market for eleven months and a new house mortgage to pay for. 

A few years ago I noticed that Bill began slipping.  Hell, I began slipping too.  But you do what you have to do.  Survival is what life is all about.  That an a little love too, if you're lucky.  

Now, the past few years with having gone through several medical issues myself, I realize that the end is near.  We've been lucky because Bill has been relatively healthy during all these years.  In fact he's even VERY healthy.  But at 88 years old, body parts start to fail. I've noticed that fact with myself (you should see me get out of bed in the morning) and with my friends.

Two nights ago when I responded to the "tap, tap" on the floor beneath this chair in my home office at my computer, and I saw Bill naked and bloody lying postrate on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, I realized that our live if fundamentally changing.  

I took care of what had to be taken care of that night to get Bill immediate medical care. Now I have to deal with the Catch-22 bureaucracy of the VA in getting Bill's medications and medical bills paid for.  He doesn't have Medicare Part B, only Part A.  I have both Part A and Part B (at least until Trump and his Republican cohorts dismantle Medicare and privatize the program) so my journey through the Medical Treadmill is much easier.  Not so with Bill and his VA care.

Tomorrow we visit the local VA outpatient clinic.  I need prescriptions filled for Bill that I got from his recent stay at the hospital.  I know that the VA is going to tell me that I have to contact the Wilmington VAMC.  WhenI call the Wilmington VAMC then tell me they can fill any prescriptions until his "health care provider" (the doctor he sees at the Georgetown VA) sends them a "note."  Thus I'll get the runaround again tomorrow just like I did trying to get his upcoming cataract surgery eye drops medication (the eye doctor finally sent him the medication free of charge - sample bottles he had from salesmen).  

I apologize for boring you with all this minutiae but this is what my life will be in the future.  I am officially a Caregiver.

In many ways I am lucky though.  Bill is still about to get around.  His faculties are good. His heart is good both physically and emotionally. But he does tire easily.  He's very hard of hearing.  He has cataracts which resulting him him losing his license. He doesn't have much of an appetite. He sleeps a lot, which reminds me of my Mother's habits during the last years of her life.

When Bill had his episode this past Sunday night it just reminded me of how much I care for this man I've lived with for the past fifty-two years.  This man who has devoted his life to me. This man who has put up with me (I am NOT an easy person to live with) for the past half century. 

Even though the next years of my life with Bill will require more from me I can honestly say I feel privileged for my new role. 

This is what love is all about folks. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm tired.  I'm going to go to bed early tonight to get ready for the next battle tomorrow at the VA Outpatient Clinic.