Thank.Full.

I first posted a version of this back in Ott-Eight, a few days after I started this here blog thing … cripes, I’ve been doing this sixteen years … and have edited it, as need be, and reposted it every year to remind me of where I was then, what I thought then, and what I wanted out of life. And every year as I repost it, I realize that the more things change the more they stay the same.

Now, not to brag, but I've been told that I am an extremely polite person. I was raised on Please and Thank  You, Yes Ma'am, No Sir, and I still act that way today.

True story: I was selected for jury duty when we lived in Miami and when it was my turn to be questioned, I stood up in the very narrow aisle and put my hands behind my back. As I was questioned, I replied Yes sir and No Sir. The judge stopped and smiled.

"Are you in the military?" he asked.

"No, sir" I said. "I was raised by a military man and a Southern woman."

True story: A few years before that, while living in California, I was in a grocery store buying a birthday cake for a coworker. I asked if I may please order a cake. May I please have a name iced onto it? I ‘Pleased’ and ‘Thank you'd’ my way through the entire process and finally as the girl was leaving to finish my order, she turned and said, “I think you are the politest person I've ever waited on."

I smiled and said, "Could you just shut up, please, and ice my damn cake!"

When all else fails I slip into sarcasm. That's my motto, and I’m thankful for that, too, but I digress.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, probably because there are no gifts involved, except for the gift of time and good food and drink; time spent with loved ones and friends; the gift of thanks. A day of thanks; a truly American holiday, like 4th of July, but one we celebrate not with picnics and beer, firecrackers and sparklers, but with a meal shared with friends and family, and pets, always the pets.

I have so much to be thankful for again this year. Yes, the usual family and friends and health and happiness, blah blah blah, everyone says that, but this year, with the exception of another awful day in February … my least favorite month.

One of those bad days is nearly two years past, the day Tuxedo left us, and it still hits me every single day; but I am thankful for the many years with the Greatest Cat Ever, and his little buddy MaxGoldberg, who left us in 2022, and for Ozzo, that wee black dog that used to tear across the back yard with a four-foot tree branch in his mouth begging to play fetch.

And that bad February day this year when my father passed away. I was lucky—is lucky the right word—to be sitting at his side when he passed, just like I had done when my mother died in 2007; I felt them leave, felt that love, and was thankful for having them in my life all those years, and since then.

My father was a tough man who may not have expressed love openly often—though his last words to me were “I love you.”—but he did so when it was important.

The day I came out to him, he said, “You’re my son and I love you.”

The day I move to Miami to start this life with Carlos, he said, “Be happy. I love you.”

The day Carlos and I got married, he said, “I love you both.’

I am thankful for the time and the years and the memories.

I am thankful for this link around the world that I have found with bloggers, where I find people very different from myself, and people very much like myself, and we all co-exist peacefully. I still miss the glorious Anne Marie and her love for F-bombs and disdain for ABBA, something we shared, and I am grateful for the bloggers who still blog and the words and opinions and jokes and Candy Shop photos they share.

As a gay man I know all too well that … cue PSA music … It Gets Better.

Twenty-four years ago, when we began this ride, Carlos and I couldn’t be legally married anywhere in America, and here we are now, married for nine years … in South Carolina of all places. I am thankful for that every day and will fight to the death anyone who thinks our marriage can somehow be erased. Carlos and I are husband and husband and that’s how it will stay. That bell cannot be unrung, no matter who says what. No matter who sits on the Supreme Court.

Trust. And be thankful.

I am thankful for the years I had with my sister—I miss her every single day—because of the things she taught me and continues to teach me. I am grateful to her four daughters, all of whom she raised so well that when Carlos and I told them we were getting married, they all responded, “Now he really is our Uncle.”

I am thankful to my Mom, especially today. Thanksgiving was her holiday; cooking for her family was my mother’s greatest joy and a great gift to all of us. I am thankful that I can keep that tradition alive and can see my Mom in myself as Carlos and I cook dinner for our friends. I am thankful for her kindness, even to those who were unkind to her; I am grateful for her laughter, which I can still hear in my head, and the way she would say, ‘Bye-bye, sweetie, I love you,’ as we ended a phone call.

I am thankful for icy cold mornings and clear blue skies … colored leaves falling. I am thankful for Consuelo and Rosita because, well, I'm bigger than them and I will always beat them ... just channeling a little Joan Crawford and Christina at the pool.

I am thankful for Carlos. Every.Single.Day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am to have him; even the days when he makes me insane … more insane. I realize I’d rather be driven nuts by him for a moment than not to have him in my life at all. I am thankful for the smirk he gives me; I am thankful for the look of horror on his face when I bust out a showtune; I am just plain thankful. I don’t know where I’d be, or who I’d be, if I hadn’t met him all those years ago.

I am thankful for music and pets and soft blankets and breathing and speaking, and having a voice to use, and use often. I realize we are still facing a tough time in this country; we are still facing division; we are still seeing our Black and Brown brothers and sisters killed by police, and self-entitled crybaby vigilantes; we are still seeing our trans brothers and sisters murdered; we still see hate; we are seeing hatred towards refugees fleeing their homeland to come to a country built by immigrants and slaves.

But I remain hopeful, hope filled, and thankful, that this country, most of this country, will once again stand against that hate and divisiveness; I am thankful that we will stand for one another and not against one another; that we will stand up to those who hate; speak out against those who use fear to intimidate others; resist those who are untruthful. I am thankful that more people are standing up for those who may not feel like anyone would ever stand for them.

I am thankful for being woke. Yes, I am thankful for that … and thinking being feeling loving breathing laughing crying living and speaking.

For Life … and all it encompasses.

To Life.

Thanks.

PS We are celebrating Thanksgiving tomorrow with chosen family members and friends and then I'm taking the weekend off. 

Have a thankful day and I'll see y'all on Monday.

It's Time ....

Well, F**kuary is over and I took an extra day to get past it since it threw an extra day at me this year. I have been home for a couple of weeks now, working and, most importantly, being with Carlos and the cats, and relaxing as I can.

Although my father went quite quickly, after being given the “six months to live” prognosis, he left things quite orderly so sorting through the estate and the probate and such should go quite smoothly. Dad was a lot of things and organized was high on the list.

I have stopped getting teary-eyed every time someone says, ‘Sorry for your loss,’ so that’s a step. I did get weepy when the death certificates arrived because, even though I was by his side when he passed, this makes it all seem more real. That and the fact that I keep telling myself things I have to tell my Dad on our phone chats we had before he left us.

And I want to say again that all of your kind thoughts and words really meant a lot to me and my family. The cards and such that arrived were very sweet and kind and appreciated.

My brother and I have made an agreement on how to split the state; he really wants to live in my Dad’s house—he and his wife love the area—while I, at this time, have little to no desire to visit there again.

In the last four or five years, except for a couple of times that Carlos and I went out for a visit, my Dad’s house was where I went because he had his knee replaced and needed help; he had his ankle replaced and needed help; he had heart surgery; he had health scares; he died. For me, the house doesn’t hold a lot of happy memories for me and I feel no happy connection to it.

My father was cremated and his ashes will be spread out to sea along the Oregon coast in the same area where my mother’s ashes were spread after she passed, so in my heart they are together as they should be.

This is a quick post just to say Thanks … again … and let you know that some semblance of posting will begin tomorrow … The Funny Papers … and though things will be haphazard in the coming weeks I am trying to get back into it. Sometimes I feel like I can’t do this any longer and other times I feel like I need to, so it’ll be a challenge.

But I will be commenting again and stopping in to say Hello …

It's Just Me ...

I am still in Oregon taking care of Dad's estate, though I will be coming home for the weekend tomorrow and then returning to Oregon on Monday. Between lawyers and banks and Social Security and death benefits, it's a lot and I am slightly overwhelmed. I do see a small light at the end of the tunnel and am walking toward it ... no, not that light. I just wanted to let y'all know that while I haven't commented I have read all your comments on Dad's passing and they really mean a lot to me.
Thanks, and I hope to "see" you all soon.

Thank.Full.

I first posted a version of this back in Ott-Eight, a few days after I started this here blog thing, and have edited it, as need be, and reposted it every year … for fifteen years … to remind me of where I was then, what I thought then, and what I wanted out of life. And every year as I repost it, I realize that the more things change the more they stay the same.

Now, not to brag, but I've been told that I am an extremely polite person. I was raised on Please and Thank You, Yes Ma'am, No Sir, and I still act that way today.

True story: I was selected for jury duty when we lived in Miami and when it was my turn to be questioned, I stood up in the very narrow aisle and put my hands behind my back. As I was questioned, I replied Yes sir and No Sir. The judge stopped and smiled.

"Are you in the military?" he asked.

"No, sir" I said. "I was raised by a military man and a Southern woman."

True story: A few years before that, while living in California, I was in a grocery store buying a birthday cake for a co-worker. I asked if I may please order a cake. May I please have a name iced onto it? I ‘Pleased’ and ‘Thank you'd’ my way through the entire process and finally as the girl was leaving to finish my order, she turned and said, “I think you are the politest person I've ever waited on."

I smiled and said, "Could you just shut up, please, and ice my damn cake!"

When all else fails I slip into sarcasm. That's my motto, and I’m thankful for that, too, but I digress.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, probably because there are no gifts involved, except for the gift of time; time spent with loved ones and friends; the gift of thanks. A day of thanks; a truly American holiday, like 4th of July, but one we celebrate not with picnics and beer, firecrackers and sparklers, but with a meal shared with friends and family, and pets, always the pets.

I have so much to be thankful for again this year. Yes, the usual family and friends and health and happiness, blah blah blah, everyone says that, but this year, with the exception of one awful day in February, has been good. I am thankful that Carlos and I are fine; we have been pricked and boostered and can say that neither one of us has ever tested positive for COVID.

That one bad day: the day Tuxedo left us, and a day that hits me every single day since. But I am thankful for the many years with the Greatest Cat Ever, and his little buddy MaxGoldberg, who left us in 2022.

I am also grateful for the memories of a wee black dog tearing across the back yard with a four-foot tree branch in his mouth begging to play fetch; Ozzo was one of a kind.

I am thankful to this link around the world that I have found with bloggers, where I find people very different from myself, and people very much like myself, and we all co-exist peacefully. I am grateful to our dear Anne Marie and her love for F-bombs and disdain for ABBA, something we shared. I miss her wit and sarcasm and musical Saturdays, but I am thankful for having have them. I also miss her husband, ArTeeGee, who left us to join her. I am grateful for the bloggers who still blog and the words and opinions and jokes and Candy Shop photos they share.

And I am thankful, as well as hopeful, that even though America is still mired in hate and division, us versus them, and criminality, there are still spots of decency and inclusion and hope. I may be a bit of a Pollyanna but I am hopeful that things will change and we will keep our government from the hands of tyrants, racists, bigots and traitors. Sure, it’s still a bit dark here, but we are all becoming more aware that if we want to change we must make change and I am thankful that we live in a country where we have that freedom.

As a gay man I know all too well that … cue PSA music … It Gets Better.

Twenty-three years ago, when we began this ride, Carlos and I couldn’t be legally married anywhere in America, and here we are now, married for nine years … in South Carolina of all places. I am thankful for that every day and will fight to the death anyone who thinks our marriage can somehow be erased. Carlos and I are husband and husband and that’s how it will stay. That bell cannot be unrung, no matter who says what. No matter who sits on the Supreme Court.

Trust. And be thankful.

I am thankful for the years I had with my sister—I miss her every single day—because of the things she taught me and continues to teach me. I am grateful to her four daughters, all of whom she raised so well that when Carlos and I told them we were getting married, they all responded, “Now he really is our Uncle.”

I am thankful for my Dad. He didn’t ask for a gay son, but he got one; he didn’t know what to do with a gay son, but he did the best he could. And, when the time came to marry Carlos, it made my Dad’s day that he could be there. I wish every gay person could have a Dad like mine, who sees that change is good, and sees that not everyone is alike—even in your own family—but who loves you just the same. I am thankful and grateful that he came through his surgery feeling good and strong and ready to rumble.

I am thankful to my Mom, especially today. Thanksgiving was her holiday; cooking for her family was my mother’s greatest joy and a great gift to all of us. I am thankful that I can keep that tradition alive and can see my Mom in myself as Carlos and I cook dinner for ourselves and friends. I am thankful for her kindness, even to those who were unkind to her; I am grateful for her laughter, which I can still hear in my head, and the way she would say, ‘Bye bye, sweetie, I love you,’ as we ended a phone call.

I am thankful for icy cold mornings and clear blue skies … colored leaves falling. I am thankful for Consuelo and Rosita because, well, I'm bigger than them and I will always beat them ... just channeling a little Joan Crawford and Christina at the pool.

I am thankful for Carlos. Every.Single.Day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am to have him; even the days when he makes me insane … more insane. I realize I’d rather be driven nuts by him for a moment than not to have him in my life at all. I am thankful for the smirk he gives me; I am thankful for the look of horror on his face when I bust out a showtune; I am just plain thankful. I don’t know where I’d be, or who I’d be, if I hadn’t met him all those years ago.

I am thankful for music and pets and soft blankets and breathing and speaking, and having a voice to use, and use often. I realize we are still facing a tough time in this country; we are still facing division; we are still seeing our Black and Brown brothers and sisters killed by police, and self-entitled crybaby vigilantes; we are still seeing our trans brothers and sisters murdered; we still see hate; we are seeing hatred towards refugees fleeing their homeland to come to a country built by immigrants and slaves.

But I remain hopeful, hope filled, and thankful, that this country, most of this country, will once again stand against that hate and divisiveness; I am thankful that we will stand for one another and not against one another; that we will stand up to those who hate; speak out against those who use fear to intimidate others; resist those who are untruthful. I am thankful that more and more people are standing up for those who may not feel like anyone would ever stand for them.

I am thankful for being woke. Yes, I am thankful for that … and thinking being feeling loving breathing laughing crying living and speaking.

For Life … and all it encompasses.

To Life.

Thanks.

PS We are celebrating Thanksgiving tomorrow with chosen family members and friends and then I'm taking the weekend off. 

Have a a thankful day and I'll see y'all on Monday.

On My Way .....

 I am already midair on the way back home. My dad is doing very well, we've lined up friends to check in on him, and my brother will be up in a week to take my Dad to his next orthopedic appointment.

All is good, and thanks so much for the positive thoughts. I will be home very late tonight and have some cartoons set for tomorrow and something for Tuesday, but new posting won't be back until Wednesday  cuz I'm'a need a minute.

Thanks again. Talk soon.

Thanks

First off, thanks to all of you for your kind words and the cards that arrived for us this week. You will never know how much Carlos and  appreciated your love for Tuxedo … and how much Tuxedo loved it, too; after all, he was, if nothing else, the center of our universe.

I think, for me, the hardest part of losing him is going through that first week or so after they’ve gone, and the little things that remind you of the loss. We had done the grocery shopping and returned home;  pulled not the garage and got out to open the door into the house And the close the garage door so Tuxedo couldn’t make a dash toward the yard. He wasn’t there; there was no reason to close the garage door, but I swear I saw him sitting in the doorway to the kitchen like he always did.

This week we had our deck replaced and Craig, who has done work in and out of our house since we moved here, was outside working. And he asked about Tuxedo, because Tuxedo always came out to watch what Craig was doing, or to sit in a windowsill and supervise the project.

The best, or worst, time of all, was one night while watching TV, I went into the kitchen for some peanuts and as I was filling a dish, I saw Tuxedo behind me. He never ate peanuts, we never offered him peanuts, but for some reason he was there and I was crying … again. It took me several days before I could say his name with welling up.

The tears are subsiding, though they are falling right now as I write this because, as you can see over there on the left, we have lost a number of cats over the years and I am now remembering them all. On the bottom row we have Spunky and Voncie, who both passed of cancer in 2005. That’s Thomas, all by himself because he was a huge cat, who also passed in 2005.

The next row up is Scruffy, the tabby, and Lady, the black and white cat; Scruffy died in 2006; he was the old man of the house and when he left us, Tuxedo took that role until earlier this month. Lady, Voncie’s sister, was seventeen when she passed in her sleep a few months after we moved to Camden in 2008. Sweety, another gray tabby who totally lived up to her name, died of old as well, just a few months after Lady. We adopted Tallulah—who looked a little like Voncie—after moving to Camden and had her until she passed from feline leukemia in 2012. We didn’t lose another pet for ten years when MaxGoldberg left us in 2022, and then Tuxedo followed seven months later.

The reason I post about these losses is because of a beautiful quote posted in a comment by Mr. Shife about Tuxedo:

‘What a wonderful tribute to The Great Tuxedo. I thought of this quote when I was reading this, Bob, and I hope it helps you and Carlos with the healing process.

"It came to me that every time I lose a pet they take a piece of my heart with them. And every new pet who comes into my life, gifts me with a piece of their heart. If I live long enough, all the components of my heart will be pet, and I will become as generous and loving as they are.”

Take care.’

I like to think I have each of their hearts with me and they all have a large piece of mine.

Thank.Full.

I first posted a version of this back in Ott-Eight, a few days after I started this here blog thing, and have edited it, as need be, and reposted it every year … for fourteen years … to remind me of where I was then, what I thought then, and what I wanted out of life. And every year as I repost it, I realize that the more things change the more they stay the same.

Now, not to brag, but I've been told that I am an extremely polite person. I was raised on Please and Thank You, Yes Ma'am, No Sir, and I still act that way today.

True story: I was selected for jury duty when we lived in Miami and when it was my turn to be questioned, I stood up in the very narrow aisle and put my hands behind my back. As I was questioned, I replied Yes sir and No Sir. The judge stopped and smiled.

"Are you in the military?" he asked.

"No, sir" I said. "I was raised by a military man and a Southern woman."

True story: A few years before that, while living in California, I was in a grocery store buying a birthday cake for a co-worker. I asked if I may please order a cake. May I please have a name iced onto it? I pleased and thank you'd my way through the entire process and finally as the girl was leaving to finish my order, she turned and said, “I think you are the politest person I've ever waited on."

I smiled and said, "Could you just shut up, please, and ice my damn cake!"

When all else fails I slip into sarcasm. That's my motto, and I’m thankful for that, too, but I digress.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, probably because there are no gifts involved, except for the gift of time; time spent with loved ones and friends; the gift of thanks. A day of thanks; a truly American holiday, like 4th of July, but one we celebrate not with picnics and beer, firecrackers and sparklers, but with a meal shared with friends and family, and pets, always the pets.

I have so much to be thankful for again this year. Yes, the usual family and friends and health and happiness, blah blah blah, everyone says that, but this year, following the pandemic, good health is a wonderful thing. I am thankful that Carlos and I are fine; we have been pricked and boostered; our families are healthy, well, except for my Thing 45 loving brother who called COVID a hoax, even after he and his whole family tested positive for it, but, again, I digress.

I am thankful to this link around the world I have found with bloggers, where I find people very different from myself, and people very much like myself, and we all co-exist peacefully. I am grateful to our dear Anne Marie and her love for F-bombs and disdain for ABBA, something we shared. I miss her wit and sarcasm and musical Saturdays, but I am thankful for having have them. I also miss her husband, ArTeeGee, who left to join her. I am grateful for the bloggers who still blog and the words and opinions and jokes and Candy Shop photos they share.

And I am thankful, as well as hopeful, that even though America is still mired in hate and division, us versus them, and criminality, there are still spots of decency and inclusion and hope, and that spot of light that appeared earlier this month. Sure, it’s still a bit dark here, but we are all becoming more aware that if we want to change we must make change. I am thankful that we live in a country where we have that freedom.

As a gay man I know all too well that … cue PSA music … It Gets Better.

Twenty-two years ago, when we began this ride, Carlos and I couldn’t be legally married anywhere in America, and here we are now, married for eight years … in South Carolina of all places. I am thankful for that every day and will fight to the death anyone who thinks our marriage can somehow be erased. Carlos and I are husband and husband and that’s how it will stay. That bell cannot be unrung, no matter who says what. No matter who sits on the Supreme Court.

Trust. And be thankful.

I am thankful for the years I had with my sister—I miss her every single day—because of the things she taught me and continues to teach me. I am grateful to her four daughters, all of whom she raised so well that when Carlos and I told them we were getting married, they all responded, “Now he really is our Uncle.”

I am thankful for my Dad. He didn’t ask for a gay son, but he got one; he didn’t know what to do with a gay son, but he did the best he could. And, when the time came to marry Carlos, it made my Dad’s day that he could be there. I wish every gay person could have a Dad like mine, who sees that change is good, and sees that not everyone is alike—even in your own family—but who loves you just the same. I am thankful and grateful that he came through his surgery feeling good and strong and ready to rumble.

I am thankful to my Mom, especially today. Thanksgiving was her holiday; cooking for her family was my mother’s greatest joy and a great gift to all of us. I am thankful that I can keep that tradition alive and can see my Mom in myself as Carlos and I cook dinner for ourselves and friends. I am thankful for her kindness, even to those who were unkind to her; I am grateful for her laughter, which I can still hear in my head, and the way she would say, ‘Bye bye, sweetie, I love you,’ as we ended a phone call.

I am thankful for icy cold mornings and clear blue skies … colored leaves falling. I am thankful for small dogs and cats because, well, I'm bigger than them and I will always beat them ... just channeling a little Joan Crawford and Christina at the pool.

I am thankful for Carlos. Every.Single.Day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am to have him; even the days when he makes me insane … more insane. I realize I’d rather be driven nuts by him for a moment than not to have him in my life at all. I am thankful for the smirk he gives me; I am thankful for the look of horror on his face when I bust out a showtune; I am just plain thankful. I don’t know where I’d be, or who I’d be, if I hadn’t met him all those years ago.

I am thankful for music and pets and soft blankets and breathing and speaking, and having a voice to use, and use often. I realize we are still facing a tough time in this country; we are still facing division; we are still seeing our Black and Brown brothers and sisters killed by police, and self-entitled crybaby vigilantes; we are still seeing our trans brothers and sisters murdered; we still see hate; we are seeing hatred towards refugees fleeing their homeland to come to a country built by immigrants and slaves.

But I remain hopeful, hope filled, and thankful, that this country, most of this country, will once again stand against that hate and divisiveness; I am thankful that we will stand for one another and not against one another; that we will stand up to those who hate; speak out against those who use fear to intimidate others; resist those who are untruthful. I am thankful that more and more people are standing up for those who may not feel like anyone would ever stand for them.

I am thankful for that … and thinking being feeling loving breathing laughing crying living and speaking.

For Life … and all it encompasses.

To Life.

Thanks.

Thank.Full.

I first posted a version of this back in Ott-Eight, a few days after I started this here blog thing, and have edited it, as need be, and reposted it every year, to remind me of where I was then, what I thought then, and what I wanted out of life. And every year as I repost it, I realize that the more things change the more they stay the same.

Now, not to brag, but I've been told that I am an extremely polite person. I was raised on Please and Thank You, Yes Ma'am, No Sir, and I still act that way today.

True story: I was selected for jury duty when we lived in Miami and when it was my turn to be questioned, I stood up in the very narrow aisle and put my hands behind my back. As I was questioned, I replied Yes sir and No Sir. The judge stopped and smiled.

"Are you in the military?" he asked.

"No, sir" I said. "I was raised by a military man and a Southern woman."

True story: A few years before that, while living in California, I was in a grocery store buying a birthday cake for a co-worker. I asked if I may please order a cake. May I please have a name iced onto it? I pleased and thank you'd my way through the entire process and finally as the girl was leaving to finish my order, she turned and said, “I think you are the politest person I've ever waited on."

I smiled and said, "Could you just shut up, please, and ice my damn cake!"

When all else fails slip into sarcasm. That's my motto, and I’m thankful for that, too, but I digress.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, probably because there are no gifts involved, except for the gift of time; time spent with loved ones and friends; the gift of thanks. A day of thanks; a truly American holiday, like 4th of July, but one we celebrate not with picnics and beer, firecrackers and sparklers, but with a meal shared with friends and family, and pets, always the pets.

I have so much to be thankful for again this year. Yes, the usual family and friends and health and happiness, blah blah blah, everyone says that, but this year, another year in the Age Of COVID, good health is a great thing. I am thankful that Carlos and I are fine; we have been pricked and are about to get boostered; our families are healthy, well, except for my Thing 45 loving brother who called COVID a hoax, even after he and his whole family tested positive for it.

I am thankful to this link around the world I have found with bloggers, where I find people very different from myself, and people very much like myself, and we all co-exist peacefully. I am grateful to our Anne Marie and her love for F-bombs and disdain for ABBA, something we shared. I miss her wit and sarcasm and musical Saturdays, but I am thankful for having have them.

I am thankful for having known my Tia Gloria; she’s just left us, but still holds court in our hearts and I am thankful for that.

And I am thankful, as well as hopeful, that even though America is still mired in hate and division, us versus them, and criminality, there are still spots of decency and inclusion and hope. Sure, it’s still a bit dark here, but we are all becoming more aware that if we want change we must make change. I am thankful that we live in a country where we have that freedom.

As a gay man I know all too well that … cue PSA music … It Gets Better.

Twenty-one years ago, when we began this ride, Carlos and I couldn’t be legally married anywhere in America, and here we are now, married for seven years … in South Carolina of all places. I am thankful for that every day.

Sure, we’re still hearing the Hate Speech and hate-filled actions of some people, but one thing they can never do is take away my marriage; Carlos and I are husband and husband and that’s how it will stay. That bell cannot be unrung, no matter who says what. No matter who sits on the Supreme Court.

Trust. And be thankful.

I am thankful for the years I had with my sister—I miss her every single day—because of the things she taught me and continues to teach me. I am grateful to her four daughters, all of whom she raised so well that when Carlos and I told them we were getting married, they all responded, “Now he really is our Uncle.”

I am thankful for my Dad. He didn’t ask for a gay son, but he got one; he didn’t know what to do with a gay son, but he did the best he could. And, when the time came to marry Carlos, it made my Dad’s day that he could be there. I wish every gay person could have a Dad like mine, who sees that change is good, and sees that not everyone is alike—even in your own family—but who loves you just the same.

I am thankful to my Mom, especially today. Thanksgiving was her holiday; cooking for her family was my mother’s greatest joy and a great gift to all of us. I am thankful that I can keep that tradition alive and can see my Mom in myself as Carlos and I cook dinner for ourselves, and, in other years, friends. I am thankful for her kindness, even to those who were unkind to her; I am grateful for her laughter, which I can still hear in my head, and the way she would say, ‘Bye bye, sweetie, I love you,’ as we ended a phone call.

I am thankful for icy cold mornings and clear blue skies … colored leaves falling. I am thankful for small dogs and cats because, well, I'm bigger than them and I will always beat them ... just channeling a little Joan Crawford and Christina at the pool.

I am thankful for Carlos. Every.Single.Day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am to have him; even the days when he makes me insane … more insane. I realize I’d rather be driven nuts by him for a moment than not to have him in my life at all. I am thankful for the smirk he gives me; I am thankful for the look of horror on his face when I bust out a showtune; I am just plain thankful. I don’t know where I’d be, or who I’d be, if I hadn’t met him all those years ago.

I am thankful for music and pets and soft blankets and breathing and speaking, and having a voice to use, and use often. I realize we are still facing a tough time in this country; we are still facing division; we are still seeing our Black and Brown brothers and sisters killed by police, and self-entitled crybaby vigilantes; we are still seeing our trans brothers and sisters murdered; we still see hate; we are seeing hatred towards refugees fleeing their homeland to come to a country built by immigrants and slaves.

But I remain hopeful, hope filled, and thankful, that this country, most of this country, will once again stand against that hate and divisiveness; I am thankful that we will stand for one another and not against one another; that we will stand up to those who hate; speak out against those who use fear to intimidate others; resist those who are untruthful. I am thankful that more and more people are standing up for those who may not feel like anyone would ever stand for them.

I am thankful for that … and thinking being feeling loving breathing laughing crying living and speaking.

For Life … and all it encompasses.

To Life.

Thanks.

Thank.Full.

I first posted a version of this back in Ott-Eight, a few days after I started this here blog thing, and have edited it, as need be, and reposted it every year, to remind me of where I was then, what I thought then, and what I wanted out of life. And every year as I repost it, I realize that the more things change the more they stay the same.

Now, not to brag, but I've been told that I am an extremely polite person. I was raised on Please and Thank You, Yes Ma'am, No Sir, and I still act that way today.

True story: I was selected for jury duty when we lived in Miami and when it was my turn to be questioned, I stood up in the very narrow aisle and put my hands behind my back. As I was questioned, I replied Yes sir and No Sir. The judge stopped and smiled.

"Are you in the military?" he asked.

"No, sir" I said. "I was raised by a military man and a Southern woman."

True story: A few years before that, while living in California, I was in a grocery store buying a birthday cake for a co-worker. I asked if I may please order a cake. May I please have a name iced onto it? I pleased and thank you'd my way through the entire process and finally as the girl was leaving to finish my order, she turned and said, “I think you are the politest person I've ever waited on."

I smiled and said, "Could you just shut up, please, and ice my damn cake!"

When all else fails slip into sarcasm. That's my motto, and I’m thankful for that, too, but I digress.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, probably because there are no gifts involved, except for the gift of time; time spent with loved ones and friends; the gift of thanks. A day of thanks; a truly American holiday, like 4th of July, but one we celebrate not with picnics and beer, firecrackers and sparklers, but with a meal shared with friends and family, and pets, always the pets.

I have so much to be thankful for again this year. Yes, the usual family and friends and health and happiness, blah blah blah, everyone says that, but this year, in the Age Of COVID, good health is a great thing. I am thankful that Carlos and I are fine; our families are healthy; our friends, and all of you fellow bloggers, are healthy. That’s worth a healthy dose of Thanks.

And I am thankful, as well as hopeful, that America is turning again, away from hate and division and criminality, toward decency and inclusion and hope. We are coming out of a dark time, though we’re not there yet, but I think we all learned earlier this month that exercising our right to vote means to do that every single time and be thankful that we live in a country where we have that freedom. And it feels like the pendulum is finally swinging back towards understanding and acceptance, and the hope that we had for a few years. I am thankful for that.

As a gay man I know all too well that … cue PSA music … It Gets Better.

Twenty years ago, when we began this ride, Carlos and I couldn’t be legally married anywhere in America, and here we are now, married for five years … in South Carolina … and every state in this country.  I am still thankful for that. 

And let me be clear … even with the Hate Speech, and hateful actions, that we have been hearing, and seeing, for the last four years, they will never be able to take that away from us; we are husband and husband and that’s how it will stay. That bell cannot be unrung, no matter who says what. No matter who sits on the Supreme Court.

Trust. And be thankful.

I am thankful for the years I had with my sister—I miss her every single day—because of the things she taught me and continues to teach me. I am grateful to her four daughters, all of whom she raised so well that when Carlos and I told them we were getting married, they all responded, “Now he really is our Uncle.”

I am thankful for my Dad. He didn’t ask for a gay son, but he got one; he didn’t know what to do with a gay son, but he did the best he could. And, when the time came to marry Carlos, it made my Dad’s day that he could be there. I wish every gay person could have a Dad like mine, who sees that change is good, and sees that not everyone is alike—even in your own family—but who loves you just the same. I still get goosebumps when I hear my Dad tell people about his son and his husband. Who knew that would happen?

I am thankful to my Mom, especially today. Thanksgiving was her holiday; cooking for her family was my mother’s greatest joy and a great gift to all of us. I am thankful that I can keep that tradition alive and can see my Mom in myself as Carlos and I cook dinner for ourselves, and, in other years,  friends. I am thankful for her kindness, even to those who were unkind to her; I am grateful for her laughter, which I can still hear in my head, and the way she would say, ‘Bye bye, sweetie, I love you,’ as we ended a phone call.

I am thankful for icy cold mornings and clear blue skies … colored leaves falling. I am thankful for small dogs and cats because, well, I'm bigger than them and I will always beat them ... just channeling a little Joan Crawford and Christina at the pool.

I am thankful for Carlos. Every.Single.Day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am to have him; even the days when he makes me insane … more insane. I realize I’d rather be driven nuts by him for a moment than not to have him in my life at all. I am thankful for the smirk he gives me; I am thankful for the look of horror on his face when I bust out a showtune; I am just plain thankful. I don’t know where I’d be, or who I’d be, if I hadn’t met him all those years ago.

I am thankful for music and pets and soft blankets and breathing and speaking, and having a voice to use, and use often. I realize we are still facing a tough time in this country; we are still facing division; we are still seeing our Black and Brown brothers and sisters killed by police; we are still seeing our trans brothers and sisters murdered; we still see hate; we are seeing hatred towards refugees fleeing their homeland to come to a country built by, immigrants and slaves.

But I remain hopeful, hope filled, and thankful, that this country, most of this country, will once again stand against that hate and divisiveness; I am thankful that we will stand for one another and not against one another; that we will stand up to those who hate; speak out against those who use fear to intimidate others; resist those who are untruthful. I am thankful that more and more people are standing up for those who may not feel like anyone would ever stand for them.

I am thankful for that … and thinking being feeling loving breathing laughing crying living and speaking.

For Life … and all it encompasses.

To Life.

Thanks. 

Thanks

Thanks for all the well wishes yesterday.

I don't have IT; what I have is the residual effects of the shingles I had a few years back. Shingles affects the nerves and since my shingles were around my eyes, I still get massive headaches and cannot tolerate the light.

I'm like a vampire that way, and so that was me yesterday; I woke up at dawn with the sun burning into my retinas and then made my way to the guest room to sleep in the dark.

Carlos was nice enough to keep all the shades down and curtains drawn so that when I woke up I wouldn't scream like a howler monkey.

The upside is that, right after the shingles, I would get these nerve headaches about once a month and then they kind of tapered off; it's been probably a year since I had one.

The down side is that they hurt like a motherf%ker.

But it lasts just a day and so I opened my casket this morning and was able to meet the sun!

Thank.Full.

I first posted a version of this back in Ott-Eight, a few days after I started this here blog thing, and have edited it, as need be, and reposted it every year, to remind me of where I was then, what I thought then, and what I wanted out of life. And every year as I repost it, I realize that the more things change the more they stay the same.

Now, not to brag, but I've been told that I am an extremely polite person. I was raised on Please and Thank You, Yes Ma'am, No Sir, and I still act that way today.

True story: I was selected for jury duty when we lived in Miami and when it was my turn to be questioned, I stood up in the very narrow aisle and put my hands behind my back. As I was questioned, I replied Yes sir and No Sir. The judge stopped and smiled.

"Are you in the military?" he asked.

"No, sir" I said. "I was raised by a military man and a Southern woman."

True story: A few years before that, while living in California, I was in a grocery store buying a birthday cake for a co-worker. I asked if I may please order a cake. May I please have a name iced onto it? I pleased and thank you'd my way through the entire process and finally the girl left to finish my order. But, just before disappearing, she turned and said, “I think you are the politest person I've ever waited on."

I smiled and said, "Could you just shut up, please, and ice my damn cake!"

When all else fails slip into sarcasm. That's my motto, and I’m thankful for that. But I digress.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, probably because there are no gifts involved, except for the gift of time; time spent with loved ones and friends; the gift of thanks. A day of thanks; a truly American holiday, like 4th of July, but one we celebrate not with picnics and beer, firecrackers and sparklers, but with a meal shared with friends and family, and pets, always the pets.

I have so much to be thankful for again this year. Yes, the usual family and friends and health and happiness, blah blah blah, everyone says that. But I am also thankful, in some ways, that we are an America that has changed so much this year and, fingers crossed, an America trying to find its way out of the darkness we’ve felt for a while now.

It looks bleak; hell, it feels bleak, but people will do better when they know better. You just have to stand up and demand better from those we elect. As a gay man I know all too well that … cue PSA music … It Gets Better.

Sure, I’m still free and a little more equal than I was a few years back, though there are still some that would like to see that change, but I am sensing more hope than last year; more standing up for ourselves and others, when we see others being abused and mistreated. And it feels like the pendulum may be swinging back towards understanding and acceptance, and the hope that we had for a few years. I am thankful for that.

Eighteen years ago, when we began this ride, Carlos and I couldn’t be legally married anywhere in America, and here we are now, married for five years … in South Carolina … and every single state in this country.  I am still thankful for that. And let me be clear … even with the Hate Speech coming from all over this country, and sadly, in our own White House, they will never be able to take that away from us; we are husband and husband and that’s how it will stay. That bell cannot be unrung, no matter who says what.

Trust. And be thankful.

I am thankful for the years I had with my sister—I miss her every single day—because of the things she taught me and continues to teach me. I am grateful to her four daughters, all of whom she raised so well that when Carlos and I told them we were getting married, they all responded, “Now he really is our Uncle.”

I am thankful for my Dad. He didn’t ask for a gay son, but he got one; he didn’t know what to do with a gay son, but he did the best he could. And, when the time came to marry Carlos, it made my Dad’s day that he could be there. I wish every gay person could have a Dad like mine, who sees that change is good, and sees that not everyone is alike—even in your own family—but who loves you just the same. I still get goosebumps when I hear my Dad tell people and his son and his husband. Who knew that would happen?

I am thankful to my Mom, especially today. Thanksgiving was her holiday; cooking for her family was my mother’s greatest joy and a great gift to all of us. I am thankful that I can keep that tradition alive and can see my Mom in myself as Carlos and I cook dinner for friends. I am thankful for her kindness, even to those who were unkind to her; I am grateful for her laughter, which I can still hear in my head, and the way she would say, ‘Bye bye, sweetie, I love you,’ as we ended a phone call.

I am thankful for cold mornings and blue skies … colored leaves falling. I am thankful for small dogs and cats because, well, I'm bigger than them and I will always beat them ... just channeling a little Joan Crawford and Christina at the pool.

I am thankful for Carlos. Every.Single.Day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am to have him; even the days when he makes me insane … more insane … I realize I’d rather be driven nuts by him than not to have him in my life at all. I am thankful for the smirk he gives me; I am thankful for the look of horror on his face when I bust out a showtune; I am just plain thankful. I don’t know where I’d be, or who I’d be, if I hadn’t met him all those years ago.

I am thankful for music and pets and soft blankets and breathing and speaking, and having a voice to use, and use often. I realize we are still facing a tough time in this country, where fear is being used to urge hate towards refugees fleeing their homeland … fear of our transgender brothers and sisters … fear of immigrants … in a land filled with, and built by, immigrants.

I am hopeful, and thankful, that this country will once again stand against hate and divisiveness; that we stand for one another and not against one another; that we will stand up to those who hate; speak out against those who use fear to intimidate others; resist those who are untruthful.  I am thankful that more and more people are standing up for those who may not feel like anyone would ever stand for them.

I am thankful for that … and thinking being feeling loving breathing laughing crying living and speaking.

For Life … and all it encompasses.

To Life.

Thanks.

Snip Snip Snip

Oh, the patient; or, as I began referring to him, the “impatient.” That is one of Carlos’ faults; he does not like to be kept waiting though he has no issue with anyone waiting for him.

We had the be at the hospital by ten and I suggested leaving home at 9:15 …

Why so early? I don’t  have to be there until ten.

I reminded him of paperwork and insurance and getting all of that done, so we got to the hospital at 9:30. Then … impatient.

He wasn’t called until 10:15 … Why are they fifteen minutes late …and were taken back to pre-op … Why are we waiting here? … where a nurse took vitals, hooked him to machines … Why is that one beating irregularly … and told him the anesthetist would be right in … where is he …

The anesthetist; kind of a hot bald daddy type but … a long grey wiry beard running halfway down his chest. I so wanted to shave that thing off or at least trim it before he started playing something from the Arcade Fire catalogue.

Back to the impatient; where’s the nurse … why can’t I wear my socks … what is that beeping … what time is it …my surgery was scheduled for ten …

No, you were set to be here at ten to sign in and do paperwork, honey.

But why is it taking so long?

One more word and I’ll find a pair of scissors and do the job myself.

Okay.

The nurse gave him an injection of something to relax him and help him with the anesthesia; she said he might doze off; I tipped her twenty dollars and started reading my Michelle Obama book. Then he woke up.

What time is it?

11:30.

Eleven-thirty? Howler monkey shriek. Why are they so late?

I signaled the nurse for a heavier does of the sedative … for me.

Around twelve-thirty he was wheeled away. My last words to him were, What’s the password to the bank account again? Actually; I kid. A surgical nurse came into take him and as she was ready to wheel him out, she said, Now’s the time for the kiss.

Nice; everyone, when finding out that he was mu husband, was no nice and friendly …How long have y’all been together … We’ll take good care of him … and even when I asked if I could get a younger model afterwards. The nurse reminded me that he’s a keeper.

And he is.

Surgery was quick; he was in recovery longer than surgery. Then it was home and phone calls to family to report the news that he was home and fine and, well, a little whiny. And acting like a superman. He was saying he was going to do this and that, and I told him to just take it easy and maybe rest a minute … he went into the guest room, closed the door to keep jumping cats out, and slept for about six hours.

It was heaven. Then he woke up.

I kid. Or do I?

Seriously, thanks for all your kind wishes and thoughts, and jokes. It helped with the impatient and me. He’s feeling a lot better this morning and we’ll see how he does the rest of the week.

Nurse Ratched has taken the full week off, so anything goes …