(continued from September 30, 2017)
...Yeah, it was Flushing.
I vaguely recall the subway ride to Queens. I thought it was strange that we were not underground. I soon discovered that the subway tracks ran above and below ground. The art work, known as graffiti, on some of the trains was amazing with vibrant colors, bubble letters, and something called "tags". Needless to say I wasn't paying much attention to my hosts. Joyce did teach me better than that. Where were my manors?
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Sharing Me With You
- ECagelove
- Amsterdam, New York, United States
- May 10, 2010 my RCA (right coronary artery) was blocked and I experienced a heart attack two days before my 49th birthday. Now I can add CAD to my list of living with diseases. Life is to short, it's time to live it. Sharing my escapades and life lessons.
Wednesday, December 12, 2018
Saturday, September 30, 2017
New York, New York
(continued from January 8, 2015)
My senses were heightened. I felt alive in the midst of it all. I knew then exactly where I wanted to live when I got older. I wanted to be a New Yorker. I heard my name called again and turned around to find Phillip and his mother. She asked if I was all right and explained that their train was delayed which was fine with me. If they were on time I may not have experienced the excitement of the magical city.
Phillip's family lived in a nice neighborhood in Queens, Flushing I think...
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My senses were heightened. I felt alive in the midst of it all. I knew then exactly where I wanted to live when I got older. I wanted to be a New Yorker. I heard my name called again and turned around to find Phillip and his mother. She asked if I was all right and explained that their train was delayed which was fine with me. If they were on time I may not have experienced the excitement of the magical city.
Phillip's family lived in a nice neighborhood in Queens, Flushing I think...
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Thursday, January 29, 2015
Dreaming of Joyce
Last night, January 28, 2015, I dreamt of my mother. We were in, of all places, New York's midtown and upper west side looking for my car on a beautiful sunny day. During our search for where I parked the car we came across a store that looked familiar to me from another dream I had years ago. It looked like a bakery since there were cakes and pies in the window but other items that were not bakery related were also sold there. We also watched some sort of parade that had Easter Bunnies in it. We didn't actually watch the parade, it was more like we were trying to cross the street and got caught in the parade. I held my mother's hand tight as we darted between the marchers to get to the other side of the street where this mysterious bakery was on a hill. When we walked passed the bakery, I could see my car at the top of the hill and squeezed my mother's hand, looked into her eyes and smiled. Then I woke up at 5:00 A.M. to go to the bathroom.
I awoke with a feeling of serenity. I felt tingly and euphoric and wanted desperately to return to the dream to be with her. Unfortunately, I could not return to sleep right away and the dream slipped away. This dream may have been triggered by my thoughts of my mother earlier that evening when I could not open a jar and reached for the jar opening cloth that has a tight grip. I remembered thinking to myself that I'm loosing my strength like Joyce did. I had a bowl of soup for dinner and thought my appetite is becoming like Joyce's was where I'm beginning to eat very little and mostly pretzels, Joyce's thing was chips. Dreams are your subconscious trying to tell you something. What is my mind trying to work out. Yes, there is that ache that I've had for the past five years since her death and the longing to have her with me here or there. Just thinking about it right this moment sent tingles through me and brought a smile to my face picturing us holding hands walking the streets of New York. Maybe we could stop in at the bakery and enjoy those treats we saw in the window...next dream, hopefully.
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I awoke with a feeling of serenity. I felt tingly and euphoric and wanted desperately to return to the dream to be with her. Unfortunately, I could not return to sleep right away and the dream slipped away. This dream may have been triggered by my thoughts of my mother earlier that evening when I could not open a jar and reached for the jar opening cloth that has a tight grip. I remembered thinking to myself that I'm loosing my strength like Joyce did. I had a bowl of soup for dinner and thought my appetite is becoming like Joyce's was where I'm beginning to eat very little and mostly pretzels, Joyce's thing was chips. Dreams are your subconscious trying to tell you something. What is my mind trying to work out. Yes, there is that ache that I've had for the past five years since her death and the longing to have her with me here or there. Just thinking about it right this moment sent tingles through me and brought a smile to my face picturing us holding hands walking the streets of New York. Maybe we could stop in at the bakery and enjoy those treats we saw in the window...next dream, hopefully.
http://ecagelove.blogspot.com All rights reserved.
Friday, January 9, 2015
Uptown Funk
Mark Ronson featuring Bruno Mars just blew me away. I haven't heard that funky sound in years.
Uptown Funk: Mark Ronson featuring Bruno Mars
Now, Bruno pulled off the rollers in his hair which just added to the funk. The performance brought me back to the artist of my younger days like George Clinton and Parliament-Funkadelic, Bootsy Collins, Gap Band, Prince, and of course James Brown. I'm not one for going to concerts but this performance has me itching to see Bruno Mars live.
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Uptown Funk: Mark Ronson featuring Bruno Mars
Now, Bruno pulled off the rollers in his hair which just added to the funk. The performance brought me back to the artist of my younger days like George Clinton and Parliament-Funkadelic, Bootsy Collins, Gap Band, Prince, and of course James Brown. I'm not one for going to concerts but this performance has me itching to see Bruno Mars live.
http://ecagelove.blogspot.com All rights reserved.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
New York, New York
Phillip and I hit it off on our camping trip that summer so well, that I was invited to spend a week in New York. Queens, New York that is but first the camping trip. I did not know there wouldn't be electricity for my blow dryer or a warm cabin. I thought the sleeping bag was to sleep on the floor of the cabin; not in a lean to. The sounds of nature at night kept me up and a raccoon ate my marshmallows. In the morning there wasn't a place to shower and the suggestion to dip in the dirty lake was not appealing at all. Not to mention I couldn't get my hair wet since there was no place to plug in my blow dryer. C'mon, a well structured MJ fro required high maintenance and heat to blow out the hair. I was styling a blow out before the "blow out" became a thing. Most guys my age (14) would wear their hair braided an occasionally sport the fro. I sported the fro everyday and viewed braids as curlers never to be sported in public. Fortunately, before moving to the suburbs I learned how to braid my own hair since my cousins would not braid it for me anymore. Shelly said, "I spent hours on your hair and you took it out already?" I took it out the next day. I think she expected me to wear my hair in braids for a few days. Most of the girls who couldn't wait to get their hands in my "good" hair, that's what they called it, were disappointed that I did not advertise their work. No one understood that my hair was my thing. It was something I had control over ever since my mom stopped taking me to get those Ceasar hair cuts at my request. How I hated the barber shop. She would take me or should I say drop me off after telling the barber how to cut my hair. I had to endure the barbershop environment alone since dad was nowhere to be found. Till this day, I am not a fan of the barbershop with the foul language, inappropriate conversations, degradation of women and anything that is considered unmanly. I sported my fro straight through my first year of college and I never went camping again. What was Joyce thinking. I never made it through two week summer day camp. It was just something about being in the woods I didn't like.
My mother waved goodbye as the Greyhound bus departed from Albany, NY bus station heading to New York Port Authority. It was my very first trip on my own and of course she ensured that I had everything I needed in my suitcase by asking me if I had things like a toothbrush, plenty of underwear, enough clothes for the week, lotion, and a thank you card for the family. She didn't ask about hair products like the blow dryer, hair food, pick, or comb. I guess she figured I had that covered which I did. Proper hair care was always at the top of my list. I had been to New York twice with my mom when I was younger for a dance workshop and a beauty pageant. My cousin was in the beauty pageant not me but all we saw of New York was the hotel that the workshop and pageant were held. The Broadway plays she took me to were day trips with just enough time to stand in line at the ticket booth on Broadway, grab a quick bite, catch the show, and catch the bus or train for the return trip home. No exploration of the hustle and bustle and with my sister in tow, I had to stay close to mother. We did go to a Greek restaurant and tried souvlaki which was the extent of my exposure to New York.
When I arrived in New York at the Port Authority, my instructions were to wait for Phillip and his parents to pick me up. I wasn't told where to wait and thought they would be at the terminal gate. I didn't see Phillip when I got off the bus and the crowd sort of steered me outside to 42nd and 8th Avenue. So there I was in New York City across the street from the Chock Full O Nuts shop. On the opposite corner was the Port Authority building and the fourth corner held a shop that had XXX on the window and a neon sign outline of a female form. The cars, busses and taxis were cruising past the intersection in all directions. Horns were honking, bells were ringing, venders were calling for customers, the smell of roasted nuts was in the air along with a foul smell funk. The buildings seemed so tall as I strained to see the top of them. While looking up I heard someone call my name, Eddie...
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My mother waved goodbye as the Greyhound bus departed from Albany, NY bus station heading to New York Port Authority. It was my very first trip on my own and of course she ensured that I had everything I needed in my suitcase by asking me if I had things like a toothbrush, plenty of underwear, enough clothes for the week, lotion, and a thank you card for the family. She didn't ask about hair products like the blow dryer, hair food, pick, or comb. I guess she figured I had that covered which I did. Proper hair care was always at the top of my list. I had been to New York twice with my mom when I was younger for a dance workshop and a beauty pageant. My cousin was in the beauty pageant not me but all we saw of New York was the hotel that the workshop and pageant were held. The Broadway plays she took me to were day trips with just enough time to stand in line at the ticket booth on Broadway, grab a quick bite, catch the show, and catch the bus or train for the return trip home. No exploration of the hustle and bustle and with my sister in tow, I had to stay close to mother. We did go to a Greek restaurant and tried souvlaki which was the extent of my exposure to New York.
When I arrived in New York at the Port Authority, my instructions were to wait for Phillip and his parents to pick me up. I wasn't told where to wait and thought they would be at the terminal gate. I didn't see Phillip when I got off the bus and the crowd sort of steered me outside to 42nd and 8th Avenue. So there I was in New York City across the street from the Chock Full O Nuts shop. On the opposite corner was the Port Authority building and the fourth corner held a shop that had XXX on the window and a neon sign outline of a female form. The cars, busses and taxis were cruising past the intersection in all directions. Horns were honking, bells were ringing, venders were calling for customers, the smell of roasted nuts was in the air along with a foul smell funk. The buildings seemed so tall as I strained to see the top of them. While looking up I heard someone call my name, Eddie...
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Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Puppy Love
(continuation from June 5, 2013)
...It was the summer of 1975 and I needed a summer job to raise money for school clothing of my choice with my own funds. Joyce found out about a summer program at St. Rose College and somehow I was enrolled. I was more than happy to spend the day on a college campus as opposed to other summer jobs where I worked for Parks and Recreation clearing vacant lots, cutting down tree stumps from a golf course, and being outside in the blistering heat. Not my cup of tea. I often subjected myself to things that I wasn't particularly fond for the sake of my mother. For example I was in Little League for two seasons before Joyce realized (admitted) that baseball wasn't for her little Eddie. Don't get me wrong, I loved the hot dogs and pizza after the games but despised the practice. Throwing the ball in from the outfield was pointless, hitting the ball with a bat that was as tall as me was ridiculous, and the last straw was the fly ball in the face while trying to catch it in center field. I sucked and to top it off the uniform was way too big and I didn't like to get it dirty. During the games I preferred to sit the bench where I could go into the world in my head where I wasn't in a dugout hoping that the coach would not put me in. Can't a cute little boy in the bright white uniform get a break. Somehow the coach would manage to get me in the game to bat and to play the left field (I think), I don't know -- it's the outfield where most batters do not hit to unless of course I was there.
The summer at St. Rose was wonderful. The program provided me with a weekly stipend for basically attending a day camp on campus. We did arts and crafts, wrote and performed
a cabaret of sorts where I sang "If I Ruled The World", and I spent a lot of time with Mildred; my sweetheart from fourth grade. We talked, well she talked more since I was very shy with girls. My heart still raced in her presence and I was just as inept at fourteen as I was in the fourth grade. I had no rap or game. I was just a pretty boy with a Michael Jackson afro who was sweet and kind to the ladies. So ends the summer of '75 and my unrequited love for Mildred Jackson. The summer did introduce me to Phillip, the younger brother of my mother's co-worker Max, who shared his nude magazine collection with me when I spent a week with him and his family in Queens. Yes!
Phillip attended the cabaret along with his brother Max and sister-in-law Margretta. We were introduced after the show while I was receiving congratulatory pats on the back and well wishes for sleighing the song. Since Phillip and I were the same age, Max thought it would be a good idea to take us camping during Phillip's visit. Of course, Joyce thought it was a good idea. I swear she and Max cooked this up at work. Before Christian reparative therapy, there was my mother and her sending me out to do boy things like camping in the wild and playing baseball. The only sport I enjoyed was bowling. That is a sport right? Since I no longer participated on the bowling league since our move to suburbia, Joyce would try to balance my dance lessons -- couldn't give that up just yet, with some sort of boyish, butchy activity. God bless her, she new her son was a poof and never let on. I'm just realizing it now as I recall the time period I'm flooded with other examples throughout my childhood.
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...It was the summer of 1975 and I needed a summer job to raise money for school clothing of my choice with my own funds. Joyce found out about a summer program at St. Rose College and somehow I was enrolled. I was more than happy to spend the day on a college campus as opposed to other summer jobs where I worked for Parks and Recreation clearing vacant lots, cutting down tree stumps from a golf course, and being outside in the blistering heat. Not my cup of tea. I often subjected myself to things that I wasn't particularly fond for the sake of my mother. For example I was in Little League for two seasons before Joyce realized (admitted) that baseball wasn't for her little Eddie. Don't get me wrong, I loved the hot dogs and pizza after the games but despised the practice. Throwing the ball in from the outfield was pointless, hitting the ball with a bat that was as tall as me was ridiculous, and the last straw was the fly ball in the face while trying to catch it in center field. I sucked and to top it off the uniform was way too big and I didn't like to get it dirty. During the games I preferred to sit the bench where I could go into the world in my head where I wasn't in a dugout hoping that the coach would not put me in. Can't a cute little boy in the bright white uniform get a break. Somehow the coach would manage to get me in the game to bat and to play the left field (I think), I don't know -- it's the outfield where most batters do not hit to unless of course I was there.
The summer at St. Rose was wonderful. The program provided me with a weekly stipend for basically attending a day camp on campus. We did arts and crafts, wrote and performed
a cabaret of sorts where I sang "If I Ruled The World", and I spent a lot of time with Mildred; my sweetheart from fourth grade. We talked, well she talked more since I was very shy with girls. My heart still raced in her presence and I was just as inept at fourteen as I was in the fourth grade. I had no rap or game. I was just a pretty boy with a Michael Jackson afro who was sweet and kind to the ladies. So ends the summer of '75 and my unrequited love for Mildred Jackson. The summer did introduce me to Phillip, the younger brother of my mother's co-worker Max, who shared his nude magazine collection with me when I spent a week with him and his family in Queens. Yes!
Phillip attended the cabaret along with his brother Max and sister-in-law Margretta. We were introduced after the show while I was receiving congratulatory pats on the back and well wishes for sleighing the song. Since Phillip and I were the same age, Max thought it would be a good idea to take us camping during Phillip's visit. Of course, Joyce thought it was a good idea. I swear she and Max cooked this up at work. Before Christian reparative therapy, there was my mother and her sending me out to do boy things like camping in the wild and playing baseball. The only sport I enjoyed was bowling. That is a sport right? Since I no longer participated on the bowling league since our move to suburbia, Joyce would try to balance my dance lessons -- couldn't give that up just yet, with some sort of boyish, butchy activity. God bless her, she new her son was a poof and never let on. I'm just realizing it now as I recall the time period I'm flooded with other examples throughout my childhood.
http://ecagelove.blogspot.com All rights reserved.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Daddy?
The definition of the gay slang "Daddy" according to Wikipedia is as follows:
A Daddy in gay culture is a slang term meaning an older man sexually involved in a relationship or having a sexual interest in a younger man. The age gap may differ, but the relationship involves the traditional parental hierarchy of father-son dynamics, the daddy providing emotional support and guidance along with sexual encouragement and nurturing to the inexperienced and vulnerable partner. Often these relationships are categorized as either "Daddy and boi" or "Dad and son," although this is not absolute, and some relationships prefer no labels. Dad, or Daddy, are completely different from the similarly labeled sugar daddy, although this can sometimes lead to some confusion.
The definition does not provide a qualifying age as to when a person crosses the realm of Daddy. It describes the relationship of older to younger. Does that mean I'm a "Daddy" if I date someone who is 50? Or, is it the dynamic of the relationship. I would not consider a fifty year old to be a son or boi. We would just be two mature men in a committed relationship. The label of "Daddy" does not appeal to me but by definition if I'm the more experienced in the relationship I would be the Daddy if we choose to utilize labels.
So, are the younger (I mean really young 20 something) guys who have been reaching out to me lately looking for a Daddy? When asked they indicate they like more experienced men and age is nothing but a number, however, my head just cannot wrap around someone who could literally be my son. The "youngins", as I like to call them, are really aggressive and have an answer to every question of why it will not happen as to why it can. Remaining gracious is sometimes difficult. The situation brings me back to when I was a "youngin" and older men would pursue me. I didn't want to be a son then and I do not want to be a daddy now.
A Daddy in gay culture is a slang term meaning an older man sexually involved in a relationship or having a sexual interest in a younger man. The age gap may differ, but the relationship involves the traditional parental hierarchy of father-son dynamics, the daddy providing emotional support and guidance along with sexual encouragement and nurturing to the inexperienced and vulnerable partner. Often these relationships are categorized as either "Daddy and boi" or "Dad and son," although this is not absolute, and some relationships prefer no labels. Dad, or Daddy, are completely different from the similarly labeled sugar daddy, although this can sometimes lead to some confusion.
The definition does not provide a qualifying age as to when a person crosses the realm of Daddy. It describes the relationship of older to younger. Does that mean I'm a "Daddy" if I date someone who is 50? Or, is it the dynamic of the relationship. I would not consider a fifty year old to be a son or boi. We would just be two mature men in a committed relationship. The label of "Daddy" does not appeal to me but by definition if I'm the more experienced in the relationship I would be the Daddy if we choose to utilize labels.
So, are the younger (I mean really young 20 something) guys who have been reaching out to me lately looking for a Daddy? When asked they indicate they like more experienced men and age is nothing but a number, however, my head just cannot wrap around someone who could literally be my son. The "youngins", as I like to call them, are really aggressive and have an answer to every question of why it will not happen as to why it can. Remaining gracious is sometimes difficult. The situation brings me back to when I was a "youngin" and older men would pursue me. I didn't want to be a son then and I do not want to be a daddy now.
Monday, November 10, 2014
These Three Words...
No, this is not a Stevie Wonder reference where the words are "I Love You". There are times when something is said to you and no matter how hard you try to let it go, the comment stays with you and evokes anxiousness in your being when it enters your thoughts. Recently, I've been labeled as off-putting, condescending, and dismissive. No, this isn't the first time that these behaviors were evoked by someone. Usually it is a work related incident that brings this out of me. Well, that's the only time that these labels are applied. So is it really me? The fictional character, Forest Gump said; "Stupid is what stupid does". I guess when I recognize "stupid" these characteristics just show up. I've always been dismissive, even as a child. Always the bearer of the word "NO". My mother would say to me that it's not what you say but how you say it. To me, a "no" is a "no" regardless of how much sugar is dumped on it or how many flowers surround it. Every rejection is not up for discussion, so yes at work there have been times when I may have been dismissive, off-putting, and or condescending.
My source for the definitions below is the Miriam Webster's online dictionary. I just had to see if I understood the definition of these words and if they were accurate to my predicament.
Well, unfortunately the definitions are somewhat accurate. Off-putting was a new description of me that I earned in the past few years. I did not know what it meant until I looked it up. I discovered that not only do I cause people to dislike me or my actions but every day I feel the same way towards someone especially at work. The story of my life, no reference to One Direction, has been full of off-putting comments and actions towards me. Should I have filed complaints towards co-workers or called acquaintances on their actions/comments? I've chosen to distance myself from those individuals which works well with acquaintances. Co-workers are a different story. If I work directly with them then I only deal with them when work requires it. Indirect co-workers are basically ignored. The encounter with them is usually a one time occurrence or very infrequent. In life you will come upon people that cause you to dislike them or something they did. It's inevitable since we are human. For example, I dislike when a person honks their horn at another driver because they did not step on the gas peddle fast enough when the light turned green. That is off-putting to me. Should I call 911? Why, the person may be having an off moment or day for that matter. My discomfort will subside by the next intersection or two. For the most part my boundaries have been enlarged to include those who may cause a feeling of dislike. I at least give them the opportunity to reverse that feeling by getting to know who they really are. They are no longer immediately dismissed from my circle and I have discovered in most cases it was the subject matter or situation that caused them to react in a manner that I viewed as off-putting. By not surcumming to my inner childlike emotions when my feelings would get hurt, I gave the individual the benefit of the doubt by not taking it personally. Who would have thought that by not wining because of my over sensitivity I would have the opportunity to get to know some pretty amazing people. Yes, there are still those that given a second and sometimes third chance they are just who they are. There was no bad day or moment. They are truly off-putting. The late Maya Angelou through Oprah said; "when a person shows you who they are believe them". Sometimes the first time isn't enough to convince you.
The second word, condescending, is one that has followed me since childhood. I mean, I've had teachers tell me and my mother in parent teacher conferences, the same thing. Teachers for goodness sake; insecure much. Showing that I believe I am more intelligent or better than other people is not a conscious behavior. I don't even know when or if I'm doing it. What I do know is that it is subjective. I've always dressed well, carried myself well, and spoke well. What I know; I know and what I don't know I freely admit. My accusers of this behavior are usually those who are more educated than myself since I only have a Baccalaureate degree. Or, those who have been in the same position for so long that they do not realize there are other ways to accomplish tasks. I don't believe I'm more intelligent than anyone else but when there are times when explaining things to the more experienced and educated I tend to utilize simple analogies when they have difficulty in understanding. I'm being kind since the difficulty is usually resistance to the change or modification to a process or saying no to a practice that has been wrong for so long that it seems right. If that is perceived as being condescending, guilty as charged and thus being off-putting.
Dismiss people much, heck yeah. Sorry, my time and energy are valuable to me and when I feel someone is wasting it--DISMISSED. I do think about and consider, briefly, what is being presented. Most times I do not need to ponder and be reflective and when time is of the essence I may seem I gave no consideration at all. I do, it's just to quick for most to comprehend and that is why they feel dismissed.
For the most part these three words do not say I love you. They're more like "leave me alone".
My source for the definitions below is the Miriam Webster's online dictionary. I just had to see if I understood the definition of these words and if they were accurate to my predicament.
- off–put·ting adjective \-ËŒpu̇-tiÅ‹\ : not pleasing or likable : causing you to feel dislike of someone or something.
- con·de·scend·ing adjective \ËŒkän-di-ˈsen-diÅ‹\ : showing that you believe you are more intelligent or better than other people.
- dismissive adjective of: dis·miss verb \dis-ˈmis\ : to decide not to think about or consider (something or someone) : to send (someone) away : to cause or allow (someone) to leave : to officially make (someone) leave a job : to end the employment or service of (someone).
Well, unfortunately the definitions are somewhat accurate. Off-putting was a new description of me that I earned in the past few years. I did not know what it meant until I looked it up. I discovered that not only do I cause people to dislike me or my actions but every day I feel the same way towards someone especially at work. The story of my life, no reference to One Direction, has been full of off-putting comments and actions towards me. Should I have filed complaints towards co-workers or called acquaintances on their actions/comments? I've chosen to distance myself from those individuals which works well with acquaintances. Co-workers are a different story. If I work directly with them then I only deal with them when work requires it. Indirect co-workers are basically ignored. The encounter with them is usually a one time occurrence or very infrequent. In life you will come upon people that cause you to dislike them or something they did. It's inevitable since we are human. For example, I dislike when a person honks their horn at another driver because they did not step on the gas peddle fast enough when the light turned green. That is off-putting to me. Should I call 911? Why, the person may be having an off moment or day for that matter. My discomfort will subside by the next intersection or two. For the most part my boundaries have been enlarged to include those who may cause a feeling of dislike. I at least give them the opportunity to reverse that feeling by getting to know who they really are. They are no longer immediately dismissed from my circle and I have discovered in most cases it was the subject matter or situation that caused them to react in a manner that I viewed as off-putting. By not surcumming to my inner childlike emotions when my feelings would get hurt, I gave the individual the benefit of the doubt by not taking it personally. Who would have thought that by not wining because of my over sensitivity I would have the opportunity to get to know some pretty amazing people. Yes, there are still those that given a second and sometimes third chance they are just who they are. There was no bad day or moment. They are truly off-putting. The late Maya Angelou through Oprah said; "when a person shows you who they are believe them". Sometimes the first time isn't enough to convince you.
The second word, condescending, is one that has followed me since childhood. I mean, I've had teachers tell me and my mother in parent teacher conferences, the same thing. Teachers for goodness sake; insecure much. Showing that I believe I am more intelligent or better than other people is not a conscious behavior. I don't even know when or if I'm doing it. What I do know is that it is subjective. I've always dressed well, carried myself well, and spoke well. What I know; I know and what I don't know I freely admit. My accusers of this behavior are usually those who are more educated than myself since I only have a Baccalaureate degree. Or, those who have been in the same position for so long that they do not realize there are other ways to accomplish tasks. I don't believe I'm more intelligent than anyone else but when there are times when explaining things to the more experienced and educated I tend to utilize simple analogies when they have difficulty in understanding. I'm being kind since the difficulty is usually resistance to the change or modification to a process or saying no to a practice that has been wrong for so long that it seems right. If that is perceived as being condescending, guilty as charged and thus being off-putting.
Dismiss people much, heck yeah. Sorry, my time and energy are valuable to me and when I feel someone is wasting it--DISMISSED. I do think about and consider, briefly, what is being presented. Most times I do not need to ponder and be reflective and when time is of the essence I may seem I gave no consideration at all. I do, it's just to quick for most to comprehend and that is why they feel dismissed.
For the most part these three words do not say I love you. They're more like "leave me alone".
Monday, September 29, 2014
I've Quit Smoking...
Well, let's say I've quit buying cigarettes and have switched to "vaping". May 6, 2014 was the first day that I did not use (tobacco). Vaping has allowed me to control the nicotine intake and today, September 29, 2014 I have switched to zero (0) nicotine level in the vape juice. Tested it all weekend and found that I do vape more since there isn't a nicotine in take. I guess my new addition is "vaping". Let's see how this works with my trip back to Atlanta in a few weeks. The extra chargers, batteries, and vape juice have their own special carrying case. lol.
The vape journey began with the disposable brands which were weak and I continued using tobacco while vaping. Splurging, I purchased the "Blue E-Cigarette". That lasted all of a week before the charger stopped working. Yes, I could have received a replacement by filling out some form and sending the item back to the manufacturer but I don't do the return hoops. Normally, I just write it off as a loss. I returned to the menthol cigarette. My cousin "T", had an unusual e-cigarette. Unusual meaning I never saw one like it. The Kanger Pro-Tank 2. The sleekness of the design caught my attention and the fact that she had been using it for almost a year without using tobacco sold me on trying it. The start up cost wasn't cheap by no means. Almost $100 to get started and then replacing batteries for more power and stocking up on juice, I spent nearly $300 but I would have spent that much on cigarettes over the past four months and I've spent more than that with the various quitting tools; smoking sensations, the patch, nicorette, hypnosis, and chantix. This is the first tool, even though it is not advertised as a "stop smoking" aid or backed by smoking sensations, that actually worked for me. Or, maybe my mind was finally right. A "touch of emphysema" will do that to you. Quitting now may reverse the damage, we'll see in November which is my next scheduled appointment.
The vape journey began with the disposable brands which were weak and I continued using tobacco while vaping. Splurging, I purchased the "Blue E-Cigarette". That lasted all of a week before the charger stopped working. Yes, I could have received a replacement by filling out some form and sending the item back to the manufacturer but I don't do the return hoops. Normally, I just write it off as a loss. I returned to the menthol cigarette. My cousin "T", had an unusual e-cigarette. Unusual meaning I never saw one like it. The Kanger Pro-Tank 2. The sleekness of the design caught my attention and the fact that she had been using it for almost a year without using tobacco sold me on trying it. The start up cost wasn't cheap by no means. Almost $100 to get started and then replacing batteries for more power and stocking up on juice, I spent nearly $300 but I would have spent that much on cigarettes over the past four months and I've spent more than that with the various quitting tools; smoking sensations, the patch, nicorette, hypnosis, and chantix. This is the first tool, even though it is not advertised as a "stop smoking" aid or backed by smoking sensations, that actually worked for me. Or, maybe my mind was finally right. A "touch of emphysema" will do that to you. Quitting now may reverse the damage, we'll see in November which is my next scheduled appointment.
Monday, May 12, 2014
Happy Birthday To Me
I was born on May 12, 1961 and today is my 53rd birthday. Wow! I didn't think I would make it this far. I've lost so many people on the way here that at times guilt sets in for living. That is something those of us who survived the HIV/AIDS epidemic in the 80's experience. Even worse, depending how it's viewed, I've survived cancer and a heart attack. Some may say I'm blessed other may call it luck. I'm just trying to understand why am I still here? Sorry, this is becoming a depressing post but these are things that are on my mind. They, who is "they", say you shouldn't question GOD or the higher power. If you don't question, how do you obtain the answers? Not that I'm receiving some divine whisperer or something to answer my questions.
Well anyway, Happy Birthday to me. Another year, four years after my heart attack and mother's death, five years after cancer treatment, and twenty four years after being diagnosed with HIV (undetectable). I'm still here. Smile? Yes, today I will.
Well anyway, Happy Birthday to me. Another year, four years after my heart attack and mother's death, five years after cancer treatment, and twenty four years after being diagnosed with HIV (undetectable). I'm still here. Smile? Yes, today I will.
Family Resemblance
Like most people during the holiday season, I become reflective which leads me to look back on my life and wonder where everyone I once new has gone. Are those friends from my twenties and thirties still on this earth? During this time I wonder where in the world is Sharon Whitaker, my ex-girl friend from 1984 to 1987. We had a messy break up which left me homeless with only the clothes on my back and a weekend bag. Thank goodness I packed heavy back then. A weekend bag consisted of enough clothing for a week. As it turned out I need every article of clothing to sustain me for quite awhile. Talk about mixing and matching to create new looks with the same articles for several weeks. Yes, I was a "Fashion Don" who could create a look out of nothing. The Ru Paul fashion challenges would have been nothing for me during that time.
Periodically I would check Facebook for Sharon with no luck until now. Yes, I stalked her page as an anonymous voyeur reviewing posts and pictures to get an idea as to what she has been up to all these years. I found a picture of a young lady that looks like me or at least I can see some of my family attributes. Could it be?
I've always had this inner feeling that there may be a chance that I had a child out in the world somewhere. The question is..."who is the baby daddy?" Is this young lady her niece all grown up? Questions that need answers but how am I to obtain them. I haven't spoken to her since our break up in 1987. Would she accept a friend request? How will I ask about the picture without tipping her off that I think the child is mine? Unfortunately, we lost a baby in the first trimester and I remember the riff between us then. We were already having difficulties in our relationship and expecting a baby just complicated things even further. Especially, when I said I would marry her for the baby. NOT the right thing to say I later learned. Sharon new she would have a custody battle with me as well since I indicated that if we didn't get married I would want custody.
Well, I asked the question and the answer: "She's my daughter-in-law that I met two years ago." Take it as it is. Daughter-in-law or Daughter. There is some resemblance to my family. She looks like my sister when she was younger. The truth may never be known.
Periodically I would check Facebook for Sharon with no luck until now. Yes, I stalked her page as an anonymous voyeur reviewing posts and pictures to get an idea as to what she has been up to all these years. I found a picture of a young lady that looks like me or at least I can see some of my family attributes. Could it be?
Well, I asked the question and the answer: "She's my daughter-in-law that I met two years ago." Take it as it is. Daughter-in-law or Daughter. There is some resemblance to my family. She looks like my sister when she was younger. The truth may never be known.
Monday, October 14, 2013
Street Walker
I hit the streets in search of the key ring and to check out the karaoke place I drove by the other night. I was exhausted on Sunday, October 13th since I didn't get in until 7:00 am from the night before. Let's just say I had a fabulous time with the locals and I will not share the details. They must stay here and in my memory. My street walking took me to the Peachtree Center a mall of all places. I passed Gladys Knights on the way, a place that serves chicken and waffles and even though I was excited to see the sign I didn't have a appetite to stop and eat. The sign on the door "no weapons allowed" wasn't inviting. I think that's when I lost my appetite. I love chicken waffles but not enough to risk the possibility of getting shot.
Picked up two key rings. I have two nieces and I can't bring back one key ring. They are the same to prevent arguing. A trick I learned from Joyce, my mother, God bless her spirit.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
The Universe, God, Budah, Allah....
Whatever your higher belief is, there are times when it presents itself to you. In my case, it was a recent trip to Atlanta, GA to celebrate the 50th birthday of an old friend from back in the day. I always thought that Keith and me were the same age. In fact, the group I hung around with in the early 80's, I assumed were around my age. Recently, I discovered that we were three to four years apart plus or minus. What a group to come out with. All in various stages of acceptance of who we were at that time.
Back to the original thought of this post; the universe. Originally I planned to stay with a friend, more of an acquaintance I met in early August through, of all places, a Craig's list post. Close your mouth people. Yes, from time to time I post and respond to ads. Let's just leave it at that. Anyway, that is how I met Mark C. A nice guy my age, a nice evening, and subsequently a nice two month long distance texting and phone call relationship. He is from Atlanta and when I remembered Keith's birthday invite I couldn't wait to tell him that I would be traveling to the ATL. He was excited, I was excited and in our excitement he offered lodging at his place. Since I planned to stay from October 11-15, needed to catch a real Drag show on the fourteenth, I informed Mark that I would stay with him for the first two nights because he would be tired of me by Sunday (said jokingly).
One week before the planned excursion Mark informed me that he had been staying with friends since he gave up his apartment before his trip to the Albany area and did not place a hold on the apartment he looked at before he left. Needless to say, the man did not have a place for me to stay. My reservation at the Indigo was from Sunday, October 13-15. I instantly went into the panic business mode to find lodging for October 11-12. I was very proud of myself for not letting him have it. Besides his text, yes text not a phone call, indicated his shame and embareesment. I figured his conscience would beat him up enough and there was no need for harsh words. Besides it wouldn't get me lodging for two days and that was the more pressing issue. I managed to get booked at the Indigo for Friday, October 11th but Saturday was totally booked. The options were to get there and hope that I could extend my Friday booking to Saturday or book another hotel near by and move then return to the Indigo on Sunday. I didn't like either option but did the smart thing and booked another hotel, Holiday Inn Express. Signed up for the rewards program and a free trip to Las Vegas. Hello Lady!
The Universe shined on me and that was just the beginning. I ended up staying all four nights at the Indigo in room 203. The Pride Parade past the hotel and I had a great view. Oh, that is why the hotel was booked. Atlanta Pride was on the Columdus Day weekend. Bonus!
The Indigo hotel front desk clerks Amanda, Joshua, and Bradley are the best! I received nothing but positive energy from the universe from finding lodging to meeting people who did everything possible to keep me at the Indigo for the entire stay. Now, I do believe that if I became negative toward Mark even after he began projecting his frustration and humiliation toward me while I was there, the Universe may not have been so positive. Karma, you receive what you put out in the universe. During difficult times remain positive.
Friday, June 7, 2013
What Are Your Triggers
When I went through smoking sensations the group leader mentioned that we will discover our triggers that cause us to want to light up and smoke. Needless to say smoking sensations did nothing for me and I'm still lighting up but this isn't what I want to talk about today.
Today, I'm reviewing the triggers that I have been experiencing lately that cause me to swell up with tears. The triggers that bring back a flood of memories of Joyce, my mother. Just the other day, I saw an elderly woman in line at McDonald's; a place I should not be obtaining my meals from. She was about five foot three inches tall, with white hair, a blue sweater, and a pair of blue jeans. The way she moved through the line and the jeans she wore reminded me of my mom. My eyes began to fill with water right there in line and for an instant I saw "Joyce".
Recently I saw the movie "Guilt Trip" with Barbara Streisand and Seth Rogan. IMDb has it listed as a comedy but I dabbed my eyes through most of the movie. I was Seth and "Joyce" was Barbara. There were many moments in the film that reminded me of my relationship with my mother. There's nothing like a Mother and Son relationship. I've stated in previous posts that I am an "Out and Proud Mama's Boy".
The ache in my tattered heart is still there after three years but it is soothed by the warmth of her memory and the moments we shared driving in our new neighborhood getting lost. We were lost together and that's all that mattered. I didn't have a navigation system then and my sense of direction is non existent. Funny how "Joyce" is the only one who truly understood that. She was amazed at how oblivious I was to my surroundings.
I recall a time when I came home from work and she asked if I saw the flowers. What flowers, I said. The ones you passed on your way in, she responded and shook her head. You pass the flower bed every day and you didn't see that they were in bloom? She couldn't believe that I missed it. My response was, Nope. She and I laughed at my oblivion together. I told her I was a little special and she said, you sure are. She really got me, like no one else.
Hey, miss you ma! Thanks for stopping by in my dreams over the past couple of weeks. I really needed that.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Puppy Love
(continuation from February 8, 2012)...the saga continues.
...That summer I enrolled in a Summer Theatre Arts Program with Saint Rose College. Something my mom encouraged me to day and I believe it was some sort of summer job as well. I vaguely remember receiving a stipend. I commuted from Watervliet to Albany for the program. The family had lived in Watervliet for two years now and I lost contact with most of the friends and relatives from the Albany area. Riding my bike during the summer to visit folks became very tiresome. I was making all the effort to remain in touch with those we left behind and for what? To be teased and taunted? Not worth the ride. The trips on my ten speed diminished and I moved on with my life in the suburbs.
...That summer I enrolled in a Summer Theatre Arts Program with Saint Rose College. Something my mom encouraged me to day and I believe it was some sort of summer job as well. I vaguely remember receiving a stipend. I commuted from Watervliet to Albany for the program. The family had lived in Watervliet for two years now and I lost contact with most of the friends and relatives from the Albany area. Riding my bike during the summer to visit folks became very tiresome. I was making all the effort to remain in touch with those we left behind and for what? To be teased and taunted? Not worth the ride. The trips on my ten speed diminished and I moved on with my life in the suburbs.
NYTimes.com: Spared Death, Aging People With H.I.V. Struggle to Live
Thanks for this article. A lot of what is printed I have/am experiencing. Four out of the 8 health conditions: cancer, heart attack, depression, and memory loss. I'm isolated, yes my sister is downstairs but really I'm alone. We don't hang out together. No one comes up to visit. If I don't stop by from time to time I would never see them other than glimpses from the window when I peer outside to see what's going on in the yard.
My current medication is the last for me. If it stops working ill have to waite for a knew drug to pop up on the market. Yet, I remain positive for the most part and when I need counsel, I get it. Last year was the first time I ever went to a psychologist and the sessions before my trip to MS did me a world of good. I'm back on track.
Who would have thought I'd be here 23 years later; diagnosed March 29, 1990 - my mother's birthday. Like so many in the article I planned to die and didn't think I would see the 21st century. Look at me, I'm still here. Made it through the Y2K scare in more ways than one.
From: thetoastofnewyork
Sent: 9:04 AM
Subject: NYTimes.com: Spared Death, Aging People With H.I.V. Struggle to Live
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Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Puppy Love (continuation from February 10, 2011)
It's strange how my life can be so cyclical. I began the "Puppy Love" post on February 10, 2011 and today, February 8, 2012, I'm posting the second entry. "Will it go round in circles. Will it fly high like a bird up in the sky." (Billy Preston)
...My first love disappeared from St. Anne's after her father ran her mother over with a car in front of their house. Tragedy struck the Jackson Family and I didn't see Mildred again until the summer after my Freshman year of High School...
...My first love disappeared from St. Anne's after her father ran her mother over with a car in front of their house. Tragedy struck the Jackson Family and I didn't see Mildred again until the summer after my Freshman year of High School...
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Puppy Love
This post has been in draft mode for six months. I've begun it here and in my electronic journal, not quite knowing where to begin since it is the next chapter in my book. I've decided to just write and whatever it turns out to be, will be pasted into my the pages of my book in progress.
The most beautiful girl I had ever seen walked into class at St. Anne's. "Class, this is Mildred Jackson. Say hello." the Nun said. In unison the fourth grade class said "hello Mildred". My first female crush. I've crushed before in the second grade, but it was a boy crush. Anthony and I sat next to each other in the old fashioned two seater desks where the tops raised up to store books and supplies in the belly of the desk. For some reason I was attracted to Anthony. He was a larger frame than I was for seconded grader. He actually had muscles and machismo that got me excited. Anthony would walk me half way home and carry my books. He even kissed me once. At times, in class he would grab my hand and place it on his muscular thigh. I think he knew I was a boy even though it was sometimes difficult for people to tell. As a little boy I had very feminine features. Crushing on Anthony was natural to me. I liked him a lot and he looked out for me. He was my protector. I was saddened when he did not return to St. Anne's in the third grade.
I never crushed on the girls in grade school until Mildred appeared. Don't get me wrong, I liked girls as play mates. I jumped a mean rope and they could not beat me in jacks but when they tried to sneak a kiss on my cheek I would run away, yuk. I played with the girls because it was safe and I didn't get all flustered as I did with boys. Little boys like rough and tough contact play which for some reason, thanks Nathaniel, would get me excited. It was better that I stayed away from them. Besides, I didn't like getting hurt, scraping my knees, sweating out my uniform, and looking disheveled after recess. Sitting in class the rest of the day smelling musty was not my cup of tea. I think we already established that I was a little prissy as a kid. Mildred, I can't say her name enough, just impressed me so much. I was drawn to this beautiful girl. For the first time I was excited by a girl and I didn't know what to do. I had never been in this position before. Anthony new what to do when he obviously was drawn to me. I didn't have to do anything but accept the penny candy, allow him to carry my books, walk me home, and let him kiss me in the empty truck near the slaughter house. What to do, what to do? I must admit I was a smart kid and I realized that I should do what Anthony did; buy her penny candy, carry her books, and walk her home. I wasn't bold enough to try and kiss her.
Conquering my fears, I would walk Mildred all the way home to her door step passing the block I would normally turn down to my house and entering a neighborhood I knew nothing about other than that it was rough. Most of the time we would walk in silence. I would just bask in the moment of being with her not knowing what to say or do. I wanted to hold her hand but was to scared to reach for it. I was a silly little boy, hopelessly in love with the most beautiful girl in the world. This behavior went on for most of the second half of the school year until tragedy came crashing down and I lost my Mildred.
(To be continued...)
The most beautiful girl I had ever seen walked into class at St. Anne's. "Class, this is Mildred Jackson. Say hello." the Nun said. In unison the fourth grade class said "hello Mildred". My first female crush. I've crushed before in the second grade, but it was a boy crush. Anthony and I sat next to each other in the old fashioned two seater desks where the tops raised up to store books and supplies in the belly of the desk. For some reason I was attracted to Anthony. He was a larger frame than I was for seconded grader. He actually had muscles and machismo that got me excited. Anthony would walk me half way home and carry my books. He even kissed me once. At times, in class he would grab my hand and place it on his muscular thigh. I think he knew I was a boy even though it was sometimes difficult for people to tell. As a little boy I had very feminine features. Crushing on Anthony was natural to me. I liked him a lot and he looked out for me. He was my protector. I was saddened when he did not return to St. Anne's in the third grade.
I never crushed on the girls in grade school until Mildred appeared. Don't get me wrong, I liked girls as play mates. I jumped a mean rope and they could not beat me in jacks but when they tried to sneak a kiss on my cheek I would run away, yuk. I played with the girls because it was safe and I didn't get all flustered as I did with boys. Little boys like rough and tough contact play which for some reason, thanks Nathaniel, would get me excited. It was better that I stayed away from them. Besides, I didn't like getting hurt, scraping my knees, sweating out my uniform, and looking disheveled after recess. Sitting in class the rest of the day smelling musty was not my cup of tea. I think we already established that I was a little prissy as a kid. Mildred, I can't say her name enough, just impressed me so much. I was drawn to this beautiful girl. For the first time I was excited by a girl and I didn't know what to do. I had never been in this position before. Anthony new what to do when he obviously was drawn to me. I didn't have to do anything but accept the penny candy, allow him to carry my books, walk me home, and let him kiss me in the empty truck near the slaughter house. What to do, what to do? I must admit I was a smart kid and I realized that I should do what Anthony did; buy her penny candy, carry her books, and walk her home. I wasn't bold enough to try and kiss her.
Conquering my fears, I would walk Mildred all the way home to her door step passing the block I would normally turn down to my house and entering a neighborhood I knew nothing about other than that it was rough. Most of the time we would walk in silence. I would just bask in the moment of being with her not knowing what to say or do. I wanted to hold her hand but was to scared to reach for it. I was a silly little boy, hopelessly in love with the most beautiful girl in the world. This behavior went on for most of the second half of the school year until tragedy came crashing down and I lost my Mildred.
(To be continued...)
Friday, February 4, 2011
The Prince of Wales
Finally, we were able to speak to each other last night. After several missed calls, text messages, and voice mails we spent twenty minutes on the phone professing how much we missed each other and inquiring about work and life's happenstances. I hadn't seen The Prince of Wales since December 19, 2010 when he surprised me with a visit. Two weeks prior to the visit, we discovered that over the past two years we secretly admired each other. Though we never spent a lot of time together during those two years other than coincidental meetings in common watering holes where we would connect and reconnect. I always felt good, somewhat euphoric, after seeing Wales and spending a few moments with him. It's amazing how much you can learn about a person when you utilize those brief chance encounters to get to know them by cutting through the window dressing and discovering the substance. When I discovered he was a single dad through adoption, he won me over. he didn't know two years ago that I was in total admiration of him. I knew then that he was a good man. A better man than myself for I would never consider becoming a single dad. My response to inquiries as to why I do not have any children is one; I'm not married and two; I'm selfish. Hey, I'm being honest here. My narrow view on children and family caused me to become blind to the fact that I could adopt and become a father without any baby mama drama. I was on the baby mama drama train and it got derailed twenty two years ago and the desire for the traditional sense of marriage and children dissipated. My resolve was to be single and childless.
Here I am now, twenty two years later fantasizing, by inserting myself into the family photo of The Prince of Wales and the four Dukes. Adding one more ring of commitment to the Prince's finger to solidify the bond between us. Anxiously awaiting the first meeting with the Dukes and wondering if they will like me as much as their father does. Will they be receptive of a step father? Hey King Edward, slow your roll man! I put on a good front when the Prince went down that road and I pulled the reigns; "we have to take things slowly", I said. Wales agreed and pulled it back. In our minds, I think the both of us were already standing in our tuxedos surrounded by the Dukes, family and friends sitting behind us witnessing our ceremony of commitment and depending upon which state we were in (New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Iowa, and Vermont, and Washington, DC), our marriage which would be recognized in New York. Wow! I can't believe I just wrote this or that this long dormant thought of marriage has been rekindled and reverberates within my heart. Shall I dust of my wedding binder and begin cutting out photos from wedding magazines? I haven't seen the horse drawn carriage in years. I digress; I'm truly getting carried away right now.
Availability isn't an issue with Wales unlike the others I fell for over the past ten years. He is in a committed relationship with his sons and there is room in his heart for me as well and that's a beautiful thing.
Here I am now, twenty two years later fantasizing, by inserting myself into the family photo of The Prince of Wales and the four Dukes. Adding one more ring of commitment to the Prince's finger to solidify the bond between us. Anxiously awaiting the first meeting with the Dukes and wondering if they will like me as much as their father does. Will they be receptive of a step father? Hey King Edward, slow your roll man! I put on a good front when the Prince went down that road and I pulled the reigns; "we have to take things slowly", I said. Wales agreed and pulled it back. In our minds, I think the both of us were already standing in our tuxedos surrounded by the Dukes, family and friends sitting behind us witnessing our ceremony of commitment and depending upon which state we were in (New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Iowa, and Vermont, and Washington, DC), our marriage which would be recognized in New York. Wow! I can't believe I just wrote this or that this long dormant thought of marriage has been rekindled and reverberates within my heart. Shall I dust of my wedding binder and begin cutting out photos from wedding magazines? I haven't seen the horse drawn carriage in years. I digress; I'm truly getting carried away right now.
Availability isn't an issue with Wales unlike the others I fell for over the past ten years. He is in a committed relationship with his sons and there is room in his heart for me as well and that's a beautiful thing.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Dear Mom,
It has been a year to the day since I held your hand as you slipped away to that glorious kingdom. I thought I would have joined you by now but it is not in his plan though I did have a close call. Mom, this has been a very lonely year without you. The next generation of the Eve’s have been keeping me busy with karaoke every other week and inviting me to birthday parties and holiday dinners. I’ve been keeping myself busy and thinking of you every day. When the day is over I come home to the apartment we shared. I miss you sitting in the love seat watching television outside of my room with the volume so loud that I had to where head phones to hear the program I was watching. My best friend is gone and I have become somewhat reclusive. On the weekends that I do not karaoke, I stay in the house. Sometimes I stay in the bed the entire weekend. I just don’t feel like doing anything. I finally understand what you were going through when the anniversary of your mother’s death approached. I’ve been sad for the past few weeks just dreading this day.
Last night I dreamt about you and woke up at 2:30 am which is the time that I witnessed your death. The nurse didn’t arrive until 2:50 am. It was just you and me for twenty minutes. All I could do was sit at the side of your bed and hold your hand. Mom, did you know I was there? As your spirit floated away did you see me? I was strong but you knew I would be. I think the nurse was shocked at how calm and organized I was. The girls did come up to see you before the nurse came. You would have been proud of Jacqui. Teary eyed, she handled her daughters grief and left me to manage the business at hand. The both of us stepped into our roles as you requested. She called everyone in your address book as the sun came up and I contacted the church and Aunt Betty. By the end of the day everything was arranged and in place. Your Pastor couldn’t believe it when I met with him that afternoon. I’m sorry to say that I’ve only been back to your church once in the past year and that is when the Ushers were honoring you and requested that I come. Mom, don’t be disappointed that I haven’t been to church. I know you wanted me to find a church home but you know my feelings about the organized edifices in this area. You and GOD know my heart.
Well, I just wanted to let you know that we are ok. We miss you and Jacqui tries to keep up with the traditions; Thanks Giving dinner, Christmas dinner and even a New Year’s dinner. We both had today off. She scheduled hers and I was thankful for the snow storm. I don’t think I would have done well at work today. JeNae’s postings on Facebook always end with “RIP Grandma”. She’s been doing that all year. I guess that is her way of dealing with missing you and publically grieving. I have a picture of you as my wallpaper on my computer at work. JeLoni has a scrapbook and Jacqui has the traditions. We are all managing in our own way.
Tell everyone that you have reconnected with there that I said hello and I can’t wait to see them again. I hope Mary Jane has found you. She left us in October 2010. Did Wayne bring the tape of me singing at the workshop? His sister found it and took my address to send it to me but it hasn’t arrived yet. I know you are watching over us and if you get a chance, stop by and visit some time. Don’t worry, you won’t freak me out. OK, that was cute; clanging the radiator. Are you testing me? Yeah, I jumped a little. :)
Love you Mom!
Until we meet again,
Eddie
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