Traditions and Validation

An Italian couple hubs and I have become friends with came for dinner last evening. 

They have become like family and we shared conversation about language, travel, food and work among other things. They really love living in the States - I think more than some of us disillusioned citizens. 

And I really enjoyed serving Italian ethnic food (antipasto, homemade ricotta and spinach filled egg crepe manicotti, meatballs, sausage, homemade bread, wine, sambuca, Italian Christmas cookies) to these friends as they gave me their approval of authenticity for my cooking.

So often in New Mexico I feel like I can’t relate. Our non-Italian/American friends have said they like my cooking, but somehow the compliments coming from native Italians carry extra weight!

It was nice to have a cultural connection for a change -- like what I was used to back East. 

We had what our Christmas Day meal would be if we weren’t going to a neighbors on Monday. 

Today, Christmas Eve we’ll have maybe only three (out of seven) fishes (anchovies in fried bread, salmon, shrimp) with a couple of guys from Texas who don’t have a clue why we eat fish!

And in closing...as I likely won't be posting again for days...I will share again the video of my niece Andrea singing a beautiful rendition of O Holy Night. She is truly talented. To all who read and listen: Have a peaceful and restful Christmas and always be there for those you love.

Serendipity Made My Day

Serendipity: the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way. 

Had to do a few errands in town (Santa Fe) on Monday...get the Honda serviced, stop at the Bank's ATM, drop off clothes at the shelter, pick up a prescription. Normally I would have a passing thought about getting a coffee or lunch, then think about the options and expense and decide to just go home. 

But it was only 10:30 and I hadn't had much for breakfast, so I decided to treat myself at Counter Culture, an artsy, bohemian hangout for locals and one of the more decent food establishments in Santa Fe with a somewhat interesting menu.

I was standing at the counter waiting to place my order for a fried egg, bacon and swiss sandwich and noticed a display of Counter Culture matchbooks that looked like they were for customers to take. I reached for one only to discover that the matches were behind a very clean glass case below the counter. "Oops!" I said out loud.

The woman in back of me who was with a companion, says, "Don't you hate it when that happens?"

"Yeah," I replied and laughed.

The woman gets the attention of the counterperson and says, "Give the guy a book of matches." 

The counterperson complied and handed me a couple of them. I turned to the nice woman and said, "Thanks. I quit smoking 35 years ago and you know, now I never have matches on hand. Sometime you need to light a candle or a birthday cake."

She and her companion laughed and we started chatting about smoking, about the Counter Culture famous humongous cinnamon buns, the coffee, all in a matter of minutes while I ordered my sandwich, coffee, and a "cinnamon bun to go" for hubby. When I told them the bun was for my husband. They said, "How thoughtful," and seemed pleased. In those few minutes we established a rapport and it seemed like we were old friends running into one another at this cafe.

I grabbed my coffee, bun and the order number on its pedestal to place on the table for the waitperson and turned to the two women, "I'm going to eat at the tables outside and I'd love it if you'd care to join me," I said. (Who is this Frank who is suddenly so outgoing?" I thought to myself.)

"Yes, we'd love to," the taller woman replied. I chose a table in the sun and displayed my number for the waitperson who would bring my order. The two women soon joined me with their coffees and their number.

We started chatting immediately and I learned that they are sisters (I knew I'd remember Candy but I've forgotten her sister's name) who have come to town from North Carolina several times since their brother died suddenly, to take care of his house and his affairs. He was a Park Ranger with the Park Service. That was an opening for me to bring up hubby who is also a Park Ranger, but with Bureau of Land Management, Recreation Department. Another instant bond.

We talked about their brother and his many years with the Park Service. And their planning for a memorial service. He traveled a lot, lived alone, liked to target practice shooting his gun on the property where a large picture of the former president was apparently his favorite target. We laughed. I felt the connection more deeply and said, "Just know that I'll be there in spirit at his memorial service."

I told them of Leon's and my adventure in coming to New Mexico. We talked about North Carolina, about quirky Cochiti Lake, about traveling. Candy was the more talkative of the two and she said she wanted to go to Italy, but did not want to go with her husband (I forget why). I immediately said, "I'll go with you!" (Who is this Frank who is suddenly so friendly?" I thought to myself.) We laughed.

Candy asked about my husband, how long we'd been together and when we got married. She shared that her daughter is married to a women and they have two children. She was appreciative of the fact that we older LGBTQs paved the way and made it easier for her daughter to live openly. I reminded her that there were many before my generation who paved the way for us and who had it much harder. 

We talked a bit about the current climate of regressive laws and how things seem to be going backwards. I mentioned that when Leon and I travel cross country we make it a point to carry our marriage license. I said that one of the reasons we chose to relocate to New Mexico was that it is a safer state than many.

The three of us chatted for an hour and seemed not to run out of things to talk about. It seemed like we'd known one another for years. It was such a delightful serendipitous encounter. I told them that meeting them made my day.

We hugged goodbye and made a tentative date to have breakfast together when they return for the memorial service. I asked to take their picture. And here they are. Candy on the left.

The chance meeting really did make my day and the feeling stayed with me all day while I did a few more errands and drove home. I think about the fact that, on other trips to town, I would never have treated myself to breakfast, but for some reason I let go of my frugality and went with it. And I met two beautiful, warm and friendly ladies. These are the little mysteries of life.

Cards? Not a Topic of My Blog Till Now.

 We played cards last evening with friends in Santa Fe. A big night out for us. Jeff and Joe invited us. They are the card players and were eager to teach four neophytes. Sam and Alan, Leon and I were game, so to speak. I don't think any of the four of us were really card players and certainly not card sharks.

The game was "Pennies from Heaven" and was a variation on a variation of some some other similar game (Hand and Foot?). 

Whoever came up with the algorithm for this game was either a genius or a sadist. I think we were using six decks of cards for six players. Sevens, threes, red, black, books, wild cards. Alan and I were getting a bit confused. Leon and Sam seemed to pick it up rather quickly.

Here are the rules (with slight variations as far as I can tell):

https://gamerules.com/rules/pennies-from-heaven/

This is very similar to what we were playing with a few variations.

   

Well, it was fun to get together. We played the game, had some laughs, had some libations and ate good food.(My homemade focaccia with sausage, gorganzola and caramelized onions; cheese and crackers; shrimp with cocktail sauce; cherry pie) 

The main thing is that we were with good friends for the evening.

Alan suggested however, that the next time he and I do some knitting while the others play cards. I said, "If you think I can mess up a game of cards, just wait till you see what I do with a ball of yarn." 

Those Were The Days (2)

Lately I've been thinking about a song that was popular in 1968, Those Were The Days My Friend by Mary Hopkin. 

It was played over and over on the juke box in the student center at Loyola in Rome, Italy where I spent a lot of time writing letters and poetry, drinking cappuccino and eating cornetti. 

In this slide show are several photos from my memoir plus many more previously unpublished photos. Some, about which I should probably be embarrassed. 

But isn't that the whole point of nostalgia? To celebrate, not so much the past, but the fact that we were there, where ever that was. That we proudly occupied a space in time and in history.

I hope you enjoy it.

Best Friends

Dottie is a good friend that we met a couple of years ago at the dog park in Bristol. Her Czechoslovakian shepherd Katija and our dog Benni hit it off so well they amaze us every time we walk our 2 1/2 miles through the meadow and woods. Which we do usually three or four times each week.

Benni and Katija are truly soul-mates. I have posted several photos and movies of the two romping and running and playing tug with sticks and posing for photo ops on Benni's blog Benedict Bentley.

In early autumn for about a week Dottie was snapping pictures of Katija and Benni every time we went for a walk. I thought nothing of it.

Well, last night we went to Dottie's for dinner and even though we agreed no gifts, Dottie got us a gift. When I unwrapped it I immediately felt a picture frame and thought knew why Dottie had been snapping pictures - that she had one of the photos framed.

But then I saw a familiar signature "N. Poli" and I recognized it as that of Nicoletta Poli, a Provincetown artist whose art, especially her paintings of dogs, we really love.

"No, Dottie, you didn't" I said.

But when I saw the painting, a watercolor of two black dogs in the woods I got all teary-eyed. It was an original painting of Benni and Katija - our two dogs who are truly Best Friends - the title of the painting.

Last summer on a trip to PTown we picked up a book of Poli's prints - all of dogs - and gave it to Dottie as she is a real dog lover. I mentioned that Nicoletta Poli was a favorite artist.

What I didn't know until Dottie told us last night was that she actually made arrangements to meet with Nicoletta to go through the photos she had taken and to commission a work for us. Dottie drove the five hours to PTown to do this, the two women decided on a theme and Nicoletta did the painting and sent it to Dottie a week or so ago. Dottie was so excited to give it to us.

What an amazing person is Dottie! To give such a thoughtful, amazing, personal gift to us. I had tears in my eyes - partly because the gift was so special and partly because Dottie is so special to do this for us.

We are truly blessed to have a friend like Dottie and Benni is fortunate to be Best Friends with Katija.

Benni mentioned the Poli Gallery  once, and again here, but didn't give the name of the artist/gallery.

Here is the link to her gallery: Nicoletta Poli

Christmas Afternoon Madison, CT 12/25/13

UPDATE:

On December 31, 2013 I sent the following email to Nicoletta Poli:

Nicoletta,

On Christmas Eve, my partner, Leon and I were presented with a beautiful Nicoletta Poli painting of our dog Benni and his "Best Friend" Katija, by our dear friend Dottie Kern. 

At first, before unveiling the picture, I thought it might be a framed photo as Dottie had been snapping photographs for weeks, every time we went walking. As I removed the bubble wrap, the first thing I noticed was your signature, which I recognized immediately. I became excited, thinking Dottie had purchased one of your paintings as a gift. 

Unwrapping further - it was a challenge as that bubble wrap was stubborn - I realized that this was not just one of your paintings but a special one of our dog Benni and Dottie's dog Katija. It literally brought tears to my eyes - first, because it was one of your paintings and second, because Dottie had done such a thoughtful, kind and generous gesture of friendship. 

Leon and I were amazed and grateful. Dottie said that because of her initial reaction to the emailed thumbnail photo of the painting, you were a bit anxious about whether we would like the painting. Rest assured that we do in fact love the painting and that it gave us great joy to receive it. 

Thank you for that, and for capturing the essence of "Best Friends".

P.S. We spoke to you last September when we purchased a book of your paintings for Dottie. You checked out Benni's blog. He has written a post about the painting you did of him and his girlfriend. You can read it at:

Benni's Blog

On Leaving the Forest - A Love Poem

After I posted the Preface to Did You Ever See A Horse Go By - A Coming Out Memoir, I was thinking about someone who I called Silvio in the book.

He was a guy I went to college with and perhaps the first man I ever had a crush on. I only have one photo of him. Asleep on a sofa in the college library circa 1968.

We spent a lot of time together during the summer after Sophomore year after which I went on to study abroad and Silvio transferred to a state university.

To be perfectly honest, it was more than a crush. I think I was head over heels in love. But, it was 1968 and it was a love that dare not speak its name. At least not in my world.

Silvio and I drifted apart. He got a PhD, married a woman, had a child, and was teaching in a small college in the northeast. He called me once, a couple of dozen years ago to tell me he was visiting his parents in a nearby city and that he would like to stop by for a visit.

I was as nervous as hell, but said "Sure. Love to see you."

Silvio came for a visit and told me his wife had passed away. We talked about stuff, caught up a bit.

Of course I was "out" by then and had been dating Leon. But for one brief moment I entertained a thought that maybe there was a chance my old love might be requited.

We ended our visit without my daring speak the love I'd had for him when we were younger and for some reason we never kept in touch afterwards.

Writing and editing a 300 page memoir brings up a lot of stuff of the emotional sort. So the other day, just for the hell of it, I googled Silvio's real name, PhD and region where he was employed.

The first thing that came up was Silvio's obituary that dated his passing on September 26, 2012. There were no details on the cause of death.

I can't precisely explain the emotions that reading Silvio's obituary stirred up.

A profound sense of sadness.

A sense of loss:
   - of an old friend;
   - of any possibility of renewed contact;
   - of sharing a love that could now speak its name;
   - of a possibility that had remained open-ended, now closed;
   - of youth;
   - of a harbored fantasy;

A sense of my own mortality getting closer - life a commodity in limited supply.

The obit carved out a little space, an emptiness in my soul.

It brought a few tears to my eyes.

On Leaving the Forest - A Love Poem - August 1968 (an excerpt)

I must leave you now forever

for I love you

You are beautiful and dark

and I would love you

Rest in Peace, Silvio, know that I loved you.

A Wedding

Leon and I attended our first same-sex wedding since the recent Supreme Court decision. We have known Joyce and Robin for 25 years; actually I met Robin before she met Joyce and before I met Leon, so we go back a ways. They decided to get married as soon as it became recognized by the Federal Government and asked Leon and I to stand up for them. We were honored to do so.

Twenty-five years ago we could not have imagined that there would be such an event to celebrate. All the gay and lesbian "we's" were happy to have found one another and that was that.

Today, two of our closest friends celebrated their lifelong commitment to one another in a civil ceremony which gave legal recognition to that commitment and their love.

What made it even more amazing were the number of people attending the wedding and celebrating with them - about 60 to 70 - most of whom were heterosexual - and who took the ceremony and the celebration as perfectly matter of fact and without reservation. The younger folks in the crowd were most enlightened in their ability to see same-sex marriage as, they would say, "a no-brainer" and anyone who would object as being totally on the wrong side of history.

What a wonderful, inspiring, joyful day! I wish Robin and Joyce all the happiness life can give and many more years together.

Beau dressed up for the wedding too

I Made the Sign and Leon Decked out his LeBaron for the Occasion

Robin's Brother Escorting the Brides

Robin and Joyce

The vows were very simple, "I, (Joyce/Robin) take you (Robin/Joyce) to be my lifelong spouse. I will support, honor and cherish you through all the circumstances we may face, and I will never stop celebrating our love."

 The ceremony concluded with an Apache Wedding Blessing:

Now you will feel no rain,

For each of you will be shelter for the other

Now you will feel no cold,

For each of you will be warmth for the other

Now there is no loneliness

Now you are two persons,

But there is only one life before you

May your days together be good and long upon the earth

Joyce With A Baseball Cap Bridal Veil

Leon with the Veil

Joyce's Niece Elizabeth, Leon, Joyce, Robin, Robin's Mom, Me

Congratulations, Joyce and Robin

There was lots of good food.

Cutting the Cakes

"Wouldn't It Be Nice"

Wouldn't it be nice if we were older

Then we wouldn't have to wait so long

And wouldn't it be nice to live together

In the kind of world where we belong

You know its gonna make it that much better

When we can say goodnight and stay together

Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up

In the morning when the day is new

And after having spent the day together

Hold each other close the whole night through

Happy times together we've been spending

I wish that every kiss was neverending

Wouldn't it be nice

Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray it might come true

Baby then there wouldn't be a single thing we couldn't do

We could be married

And then we'd be happy

Wouldn't it be nice

You know it seems the more we talk about it

It only makes it worse to live without it

But lets talk about it

Wouldn't it be nice

Good night my baby

Sleep tight my baby

Some Holiday Photos

We had a little get together the Sunday before Christmas - just coffee, tea, eggnog, wine and lots of cookies and snack food.  I was determined to take pictures during the party.  But, as usual, I got so busy eating, talking, flitting around like a butterfly, that I totally forgot to use my camera.  These pics were taken before guests arrived.

We spent a very quiet Christmas Eve.  After a long hike with the dog we drove to Litchfield and stopped for lunch @the Corner.  We had a very pleasant and leisurely lunch and Dottie joined us for coffee and dessert.  She took our picture.  We went home and watched Netflix for the rest of the evening.

It makes me happy to know that after nearly 25 years, Leon and and still enjoy each other's company and can share these simple times together. 

 

We went to my brother and sister-in-law's for Christmas dinner and Leon snapped a photo of me and my sister and brother.  I realized that we have no photos of the three of us together so this was a rare occasion - the three of us happened to be sitting on the same sofa.

Me and My Sibs - MaryAnn and Mike

We had a wicked snowfall the other day - six inches of water-logged snow which we ended up shoveling mostly by hand because the snowblower we have is crap.  Has been ever since we purchased it 5 years ago.  Snow melts and gets into the belt drive which then slips and sometimes overheats to the point that it smokes.  The machine also never cleaned the snow well, usually spitting it out haphazardly and not even getting down to the asphalt.

Leon, after having it "repaired" several times at outrageous  expense, decided to matters into his own hands.  He went out and bought new belts and we went on YouTube to find a repair video - which of course we found.  Leon is handy like that anyway, and in a pinch, I can tackle a mechanical repair if needed.

Leon Being Butch

This Is The Worst Machine We've Ever Owned

So we took the snowblower apart and replaced the belts.  Leon put weatherstripping tape around the belt housing to help keep snow-melt from getting the belts wet.

Me, Trying To Be Butch

Got it all back together and tested it out on yesterday's six-inch snowfall.  Leon was happy.  Said it has never worked better - even when new or after the many trips to the dealer for repairs and adjustments.

Sorry, no photos of snow-blowing...been there, done that.

Last night we were invited for dinner at Dottie's.  Dottie is a friend we met about a year and a half ago at the doggie park.  Her dog, Katja and our Benni are in love.  Dottie is vegetarian and she wanted to cook us a meal to demonstrate how good it can be.

Dottie has a very nice open concept home which she designed and furnished with her very unique style.  She loves stone and granite and contemporary furnishings. She even made her own acrylic dining room table.

Dottie, Cooking in Her Unique Kitchen 

Here is dinner - or part of it.  We also had a nice salad, and tofu and baked apples for desert.  Everything was delicious.   Note the beautiful stone/granite/marble counter top on the right.

Tempeh and Vegetables over Angel Hair Pasta

We had a real nice evening, eating, chatting and being molested by Katja who couldn't understand why Benni didn't come with us.

Writers' Workshop

Last night I did something I've never done before, well, maybe in a classroom, but there, only reluctantly.

Last night I read a chapter of my "memoir", a work in progress, at a the Bare Bones Cafe, right here in our town and in front of a small audience.  I am not a person who exudes self-confidence, so I was a little apprehensive.  But I did OK and felt positive about the experience.

I was one of five readers.  We are from a Writer's Group that I was invited to join last May.  The group has been very supportive.  We read our stuff to one another and offer critiques.

I feel very privileged to be a part of the group - the others are "real" writers who've been published.  I'm an amateur, but they have made me feel very welcomed and have been encouraging.

Leon took photos, but alas, he did not take photos of all five of us, mostly just me, so these photos are of "me" doing my reading, followed by what I read:

DEAD BOB 

(c) 2012 Frank DeFrancesco, all Rights Reserved

(Names and events have been loosely disguised to confuse anyone who thinks I've written about them)

       ‘Dead Bob’, as my partner Lee and I would affectionately refer to Bob Windham after he died to distinguish him from the many other ‘Bobs’ we knew, was thoroughly gay.  He was delightfully gay.  He was unabashedly gay. 

       In addition to the Gay Married Men’s Group, Bob attended gay AA and gay Al-Anon meetings, not because of any problem with alcohol, but to cruise the guys.

       “I’m not an alcoholic,” he would protest, “I hardly even drink beer, but I go with my friend Eddie, for moral support.  Besides, the hottest guys are in AA.”

       Bob belonged to Integrity, the gay Episcopal group, and he volunteered on the Council for Sexual Minorities, which comprised several representatives from a number of local, more or less liberal churches.  He also volunteered as a group facilitator with the local Gay and Lesbian Young People’s Hartford support group – GLYPH - which I had been in charge of. 

       You might also find him occasionally at a Gay Pride Committee meeting and any other ad hoc committee that might form at the first inkling of a new legislative initiative affecting the rights of Connecticut’s gays and Lesbians.  If there was a gay march or demonstration, Bob was there.

       Since separating from his wife, Lori, some eight years prior, Bob threw himself wholeheartedly into gay adolescence.  Bob loved sex and talked about it often, kind of like a teenager who had just discovered his big brother’s copy of Playboy and pretends to have done a lot more than he did for real. 

       Bob was not a hunk by any stretch, but certainly not ugly.  He was about five-foot-six and had a slightly pudgy midriff, dirty blond hair that got in his eyes and an Irish-elfin face with a big toothy smile and twinkling eyes.  A single gold tooth added even more sparkle to his countenance.

       Bob was a packrat of sorts.  A borderline hoarder.   He did not have junk stacked in floor to ceiling piles like some hoarders often do, but he definitely had his OCD quirks. 

       A few years earlier, when we flew out to San Francisco with him and Carl, he brought at least ten pairs of sunglasses with him that he had purchased on sale.  “It was such a bargain, I couldn’t pass it up,” he explained, while he chuckled in that mischievous, innocent way he always did.  In addition to his regular luggage, Bob brought his carry-ons which consisted of seven or eight plastic shopping bags, filled with everything from the sunglasses to sweaters, candy bars, magazines, a walkman and a 5-inch black and white TV, “It was such a bargain,” was his refrain. 

       At the airport Bob said, “Let’s make sure we get on the plane first, so I can get all this stuff into the overheard compartments.”  We could maybe justify the ten pairs of sunglasses, but why Bob would need a mini-TV in California was anybody’s guess.

       Bob had been married to Lori, a woman he genuinely loved and had two daughters whom he cherished. For Bob it was the ‘Gay Married Men’s Group’ that helped with his coming out and supported him in telling his wife and daughters about his gay identity.  Even though he was amicably divorced, he remained active with the married men’s group.  I think Bob stayed with the group because, as he would often say, “Married men are so hot.”

       When Bob died of complications of AIDS in early 1996, his lover Carl, who did not live with him during the six or so years they were together, asked Lee and I to help go through his things and clean out his apartment.  Carl called to set the date a few weeks after the funeral and it was April when we finally had a free Saturday to help him with closing up Bob’s apartment.  

     

       We had agreed to meet Carl at Bob’s old place at 7 am on Saturday.  Lee and I drove over in Lee’s Isuzu Pup – the little pickup truck that guaranteed we got invited to help whenever a friend was moving or when someone bought furniture or firewood.

       When we arrived at the apartment Carl said, “Lori and the girls have already taken what they wanted of Bob’s, so take whatever you want, cuz I’m donating or throwing out whatever is left, no exceptions.”

       Amongst the stuff that Bob had collected were lots of skin magazines, mostly soft-core stuff like Blueboy, Honcho and Mandate, which were pretty tame by porn standards.  “But,” Bob always said, “I like reading the hot stories and the articles.”

       “Fran, don’t spend an hour going through porn,” Lee said, when he saw the gleam in my eye.  “We’re here to help Carl.”  

       This was merely a routine scolding from Lee, who has a knack for keeping me on task when tackling a big clean up job or a major home maintenance project.  Lee is almost fourteen years my junior, and we had been together for about eight years at the time, eight years into what I call the second half of the rest of my life.

       Lee and I had crossed paths on occasion, but we ‘officially’ met at a gay swimming hole in Vermont one August afternoon in 1988.  But that’s a whole other chapter.  I put aside the porn after picking out a few good men.

      

       Bob’s apartment was not neat but not disgustingly filthy either.  It was definitely lived-in with a laissez-faire approach to housekeeping - moderately cluttered with clothing, books, magazines, mail, bottles of vitamins and medications and his precious videotapes. 

       In contrast, his dresser drawers were packed full with neatly folded clothes, though long out of style and with the price tags still affixed, showing both the original price and the mark-down.  There were a half dozen sweaters, all of the same size and label, but of different colors, ten or more identical button down Western style plaid shirts, at least ten packages of tighty-whitey underwear and several six-packs of white crew socks, unopened.

       In his kitchen there were still a few dishes in the sink but the counters and appliances were visible and usable.  The fridge, however, would probably not have passed a health department inspection even when Bob was alive.  We always cringed when Bob would offer to bring a salad to one of the frequent potluck dinners at the Gay and Lesbian Community Center. 

       “I brought a salad,” he would announce enthusiastically as he walked in with a large Tupperware bowl, “the lettuce and tomatoes were about to go bad, so I had to use them up.”  Those of us ‘in-the-know’ would usually avoid Bob’s salads.

         On weekends, Bob shared his two-bedroom, one bath apartment with his daughters, Sandy and Pam, and with Carl, of course.  The bathroom was cluttered with all sorts of feminine products, shampoos, beauty bars and various articles of young women’s intimate clothing.  We always teased Bob about his being a closet transvestite, based on what was on display in his bathroom. 

       “Oh, you guys.  Stop it.  But you never know!” he’d smile showing a gleaming gold tooth.

       Bob was Episcopalian; his lover, Carl Baccio, a mostly quiet, serious guy from a typical Italian-American family, was a self-described ‘lapsed’ Catholic.  He and Bob would attend the Integrity service at the Episcopal Church when Carl was at Bob’s for the weekend.  Carl had been ‘out’ since college but Bob ‘came out’ in his mid-thirties and was still somewhere in his gay adolescence.

       Bob was obsessed with old movies, recent movies, TV movies and TV specials and just about all other genres of TV entertainment.  Of course, this was before the world had ever heard of DVDs or other digital media.  Bob would program his VCR to the TV Guide schedule and record every movie or TV program that interested him, and carefully label and store the video tapes to view at some later date.  There had to be over a hundred tapes in the bookcase. 

       That later date when he planned to watch all those movies and taped TV shows never came.  I felt a sense of loss as I was going through his prized videos - knowing he had been admitted to the hospital less than two months ago with a sudden onset of pneumonia.  He remained there for several weeks while his immune system failed him entirely.   He died one night with Carl, his two daughters and his ex-wife all by his side. ......

... Continued... let me know if you want to read more.

Rainbow Over Provincetown - A Sign?

While we were having dinner with friends, Ed and Jeff at Napi's this evening there was a report of a rainbow. 

Me and Leon

Ed, Jeff, Me, Leon 

I went out to see the phenomena and shot these photos:

Perhaps some evangelical religious fanatic could interpret this rainbow over Provincetown as a sign, but I'm sure they'd put a negative, hateful spin on it.  I prefer to think of it as a Rainbow in a town that really appreciates Rainbows.

Photos, no Politics

Monday, July 30 I took a "vacation" day.  Even retired folks need to call in sick once in a while.  

Leon was home due to lack of work so I said, "Here, the dog is yours today. I'm going to the beach."

I drove to Rhode Island to Misquamicut Beach because Connecticut does not have any "real" ocean beaches.  It was a glorious day.  The temperature was perfect, low humidity, nice breeze, no sand flies.  Listened to Brazilian samba music and Soul Flutes.  Walked the beach and felt like I was 18 again. 

The beach on a day like that is Heaven.  If heaven is that good, I'll be happy.

Palm trees in Rhode Island

 This beach shop has palm trees in the ground.  In Rhode Island which is in New England.  Now I've seen palm trees in New England but they are usually potted so they can be returned to a green house for the winter.  I want to know whether these are removed for the winter.  They look rather permanent.

A few odds and ends.  I thought I'd seen a humming bird but on closer look it had antennae.  Its wings were beating like a humming bird.  Looked it up - it is a "hummingbird" MOTH.  Unusual.  What would we do without Google?

We've been spending every other weekend in Vermont at the property of some friends where we've parked our camper for a while.  Lance and Rolyne are very generous to let us share their land - they have water, electric and sewer hook-ups for our camper.  They have a park model "camper" and their place is quite nice.  The yard looks like a State Park - Lance keeps the grounds looking great.

They've got quite the stone driveway.

 We spend our days visiting Vermont friends or they come to our camper for evening cook-out and good conversation.  Lance is a great story-teller and loves to talk.  We always have a good time and some good laughs.

Here are some Connecticut stone walls in Litchfield County.