Lucky Fourteen, a Stroke After Midnight.

City Mouse/Country Mouse...

I grew up in the bucolic country-side and just after I experienced puberty, I couldn't wait to get to town, Oh Ruby!

I mean, I had all of the country living stuff; nice old house, acres to play in, vast fields of corn, wheat, tomatoes and cabbages. Each of our families houses had a house garden full of fresh produce. (And along the edges of these house gardens, there were grape vines and raspberry bushes and strawberry patches). During the summer, it was an orgy of fresh!

(My Mom would put the water on to boil and when it was almost boiling, I would go to the garden and pick and shuck the sweetcorn, and then bring it in for her to cook when the water had hit full boil), which is the only way to prepare corn on the cob...

Where I lived as a child, there were also 80 acres of orchards; at least 10 varieties of apple trees over most of the area, but also plum trees, sweet and sour cherry trees, and the most incredible pear trees that I have ever seen.

It should have been bliss.

But it was wasn't, because there was something missing. If I had met a man then, even at the age of seventeen, a gay man who wanted this sort of country life and wanted to share it with me, I might have never left my home town.

But there was no such man.

So, I figured that my odds of finding someone would be better in a place with more people. And I was right about that, especially in a time before the internet...

I've spent a lot of time here in New Orleans, the "gay capital of the south", and the rewards were rich; two very intense relationships over a fifteen year period. The second with Bill, eight years, defintive of love and wonderful, although heart-breakingly shorter than it might have been, had to help him die, cared for him so much, but in the end failed to keep him alive. Felt like such a failure for a while.

When I think now about who I would like to be living with and where... I don't have a dream place anymore. (I've traveled a bit over the last three years and the places I've been, I like a lot, there are a lot of great places to live)... but it's the people I've met that count.

I
But there's got to be a new place, warm and cosy. Somewhere, with someone. I'm pretty sure of that. It's why I get up in the morning.

Other news...

I had a great week, lots of hours of work, but the pay off was worth it. Today, the regional president and the regional vice president came to visit and they were very, very happy with what they saw. They took lots of pics which will prolly be in the regional best practices e-mail to all the other stores and they both told me how much they liked what I had done.

It's always been a bit of a gamble, for me to go to the smallest store in our company, the oldest and smallest, and try to make my mark, but it seems to be working out well. I also had my job dialogue this week, with my store team leader; it was good. My regional coordinators sent the most incredibly flattering e-mails in support of my job review. They also recommended me for regional All Star Status, which is a big deal, especially since I have such a small store to work from.

And also...

I recommend the brand new blog of my poet friend Alex.

I had the good fortune to visit Alex in Santa Fe while traveling with my good friend Gary late last summer, and to walk across the bridge over the arroyo one morning on our way to breakfast. Alex lives in a charming place... and it's great to get updates from him now in blog fashion. He's a poet and an artist and a very good man.

Oh, and Thanksgiving...

Usually, I have the Thanksgiving meal next door with Robert and some friends. It's part of a tradition that spans over 18 years and started with our dear friend Margaret. She would always host Thanksgiving, (and Christmas Day and New Years Day), her parents would always be there and they were very nice people, so you would feel like your grand parents showed up at your gay party.... and who else would show up? Well, over the years there were many... some years it would be more like a large family group; her folks, a few older gay couples, (like your old gay aunt and auntie) and a bunch of the rest of us. One year, (fortunately it was a warm and pleasant Thanksgiving Day), there were over 75 people; both of the back yards were full and it was wonderful!

Other years there were ten or twelve people, but it was always Thanksgiving and there was a tradition.

Then Margaret died, (cancer), and Robert carried on the tradition. But we had lost some of the older folks... and Margaret's Dad passed away, and some of the younger guys...well, AIDS took them...

There were some new additions, the fabu Michelle for instance, but now she has a man... bitch! Hey, we very much like her man (they just closed on a house and you can't beat that with a stick)... but they will be somewhere else for turkey day. The few remaining.. also somewhere else so far.

So I told Robert that we have been invitited to a rather well done up-town house where all we have to do is bring something, and that could be food or a fabulous bottle or two of something, and I have access to that. It would be at the home of our store team leader, a work situation, but not really... just drop in, have a bite and a drink. There's no doubt that the food and wine will be fabulous; Amy is an stunning cook. And the house is cool, very old fashioned big mess, that they are constantly renovating.

Robert says "we'll see."


Furthermore...

Gary swears that he will never vote again! He even swears while he says that he will never vote again, at least I think that's what he said. My cell phone with all the free minutes kept losing it.

And my friends in Australia have "adopted" a young gay man in Romania...

There's a song that the Gypsies say is true!
That when your man wears golden earrings!
He will come to you!

HEY!

And on that silly note... I end.




durlx