Life Events

We’re all getting older.

Deny it all you will, it’s a fact.  Currently, on my mantle is an urn. It’s a nice simple shape.

It contains the cremains of my Significant Other. We had 34 years together; some good, some bad, but the important thing is we endured the hard times and celebrated the good times.

There’s a finality to that urn. It’s like a stake in the ground that says, “From here you go on alone.”

Now, there’s all the paperwork and complications. There’s the digging through documents and trying to find accounts and pay for this, that, and the other thing. There are originals and copies of proof of death to be sent to various organizations. It’s complicated, litigious, and annoying.

There’s cleaning, and organizing of all the little bits of stuff that my S.O. considered important enough to keep and deciding the validity of each thing. Should the silly coffee mug from some professional conference be kept? It means nothing to me. But it was a cup that frequently was on the breakfast table. I suppose, in that, some objects have attained sentimental value, but are they important enough to keep?

How do you decide? What merits an object’s inclusion in a cabinet when everything in the house is something you remember picking out together? When your home is full of memories, how do you weight one item over the rest?

There are items that should be returned to my S.O.s family. I’ve been collecting those because these items have historical significance to the family and should be passed on. Like other objects they have little significance to me personally, but to the family they are bits and pieces of their history. The family should have the opportunity to accept or reject these items.

Our home is full of memories. These memories come unbidden at random times and they can be paralyzing.

Then there are all the good people who don’t know what to say or do. There’s really nothing they can say or do, this pain is mine. I appreciate their well wishes and concern. But really there’s little they can do to help, short of standing with me.

There are those among the friends of my S.O. for whom drama seems to be necessary. For them, sharing their trauma of losing a parent or sibling is supposed to be helpful. In reality their repetitive oversharing is just ripping the bandage off the wound.

It’s not that they mean to be cruel. They just don’t understand that grieving a spouse seems to be a private affair. Losing a spouse is very different from losing a parent or sibling. I’ve experienced all three now. The spouse, is a completely different experience.

When you’re growing up, you come to understand that death is part of life. You understand there’s an order to things. You eventually realize that your parents will one day, not be there, and you usually have a long time to come to grips with that concept. Often, your parents, realizing their own mortality, provide you with guidelines and instruction. It’s not overt, but you see your grandparents pass on and by observation you learn how to come to grips with that inevitably.

When your parents pass on, you grieve following your parent’s example of grieving their parents.

When your spouse passes on, you have some rudimentary coping mechanisms but those don’t really fit. You’re in uncharted waters and each day brings new and different pain.

You see something that your spouse left behind. For example, a mess, and your first thought is to be irritated by it, then you remember your spouse is gone. That’s when you feel guilt about being irritated with them, and grief washes over you. Then you wonder if you were good enough to them, were you petty when you expressed your irritation about them leaving messes in their wake.

Should you have been more patient and loving? Then you’re back to guilt.

You don’t really have time to process your feelings because there are plans and decisions to be made.

The love of your life may be at peace, but you’re anything but…

I’ve found myself losing hours of a day over something trivial. I’ve been awakened by the dog in the night because unbeknownst to me I was crying in my sleep. It’s a strange feeling to be awakened by your dog kissing tears away. In the dim moonlight I can see the dog’s concerned eyes. Once I’m awake, he lays down next to me with one paw on my arm, as if to say, “I’m here Dad, it’s going to be alright.”

I’m anthropomorphizing the dog. He doesn’t really understand, but he’s aware something fundamental has changed in our home.

Grief appears to be a journey. It’s not one that I’m prepared for, and not one that any of us have a choice in undertaking.

I’m getting the feeling that this is also a long journey.

All of which is to say, I’m likely to be writing intermittently at best.

It’s been a rough week!

I threw my back out last Thursday. Wow! That’s an amazing pain!

Lower Back Pain

I’ve thrown my back out before, but this time it’s a whole new level.

I was on the mend. But today, I was of all things, trimming my toenails and my entire lower back locked in a spasm.

It’s humiliating! 

I’ve been told that getting old isn’t for the weak. But since when did personal care end up on the list of hazardous activities?

Couldn’t I have done this doing something interesting? Couldn’t it have been mountain climbing, snow skiing? Lifting my SCUBA tank off a boat? Exploring all the positions of the Kama Sutra?

OH NOOOOO!

I had to do this doing something stupid, mundane, and embarrassing!

I’m sitting here in my office chair with a hot pad stretched across my low back. The office chair is at its maximum height which makes it a touch less excruciating, if I have to stand up.

I had grand plans today. I was going to take the dog on a long walk, I was going to reorganize the linen closet. Uhhh nope! Not happening today, it might not happen tomorrow.

This isn’t the only thing that’s made this a rough week. There have been reports from the East Coast that raise more concerns about family members (yes, plural) who are slipping away.

On this coast and closer to home, the other half has had a couple of issues starting last Thursday, and again yesterday. The latest resulted in spending most of yesterday in ER. It was nothing life threatening, but was concerning enough that paramedics were summoned for their professional opinion and they assisted me loading the other half into the car for the trip to ER.

Throwing my back out this morning couldn’t come at a worse time.

I share my humiliation with you gentle reader, not for sympathy. I share it so that you know you’re not alone. Sitting here having the warmth spreading through my back, I’ve realized it’s actually kind of funny. So laugh your ass off as much as you want.

Just remember, there’s a time in your future when something completely inane will sideline you. When that time comes, try to remember this post & smile.

Be well.

So which is it?

Armed protesters stand guard outside a drag show at Anderson Distillery & Grill in Roanoke, Texas. (Kelly Neidert)

Antifa is looking a LOT more like the Fascists than the “Enemy” they’re supposed to be worried about.

Anti Drag Shows for Kids protestors

Of the two groups which looks more like a paramilitary group?

Are guns only bad when they’re in the hands of conservative leaning people? Is the take away that ANTIFA is protecting decency, which is arguable at best?

Was it ANTIFA that attacked the Federal Building in Portland or not? Weren’t they the folks blinding officers and throwing fire bombs trying to kill folks assigned to protect the Federal Building?

Who was it that beat Andy Ngo damn near to death? Oddly it wasn’t normal law abiding folks. But apparently that’s to be swept under the rug.


This is all about a drag show for children in Texas.

I never thought I’d be writing a sentence that contained the words Drag Show and Children in it.

WTF?


I remember being in a gay bar late one night in Laguna Beach where a child came up to the 6’5” tall, muscular as all hell, ex military demolition specialist, doorman, asking for help.

The doorman scooped this frightened child up off the ground, walked into the bar told the bartender to stop selling booze, the Saturday Night Crowd made a path to the bar. The whole downstairs bar emptied out and this scary giant of a man, tended ever so gently to the child’s scrapes.

In his deep baritone he asked what had happened.

When he and several others nearby who were providing wet clean towels, who’d grabbed the first aid kit, and an unimpaired RN, heard;

Daddy and Mommy are fighting bad

The doorman very gently asked, “Can you tell me where they are?”

We’re on vacation. The hotel is across the street. I came over here because it sounded happy.

“Are they still fighting?”

I guess so, they fight a lot.

“Okay little one, I’ll go check on them.”

He and several other men went to the door. Over his shoulder he called to a bartender, “Get some juice for her, don’t sell any booze while she’s here, and call the police.”

There are a lot of things that made me proud of the community that night. The short list is this.

The men that followed the doorman out all knew how to handle themselves. They were either military, ex military, bikers or fighters of various stripes.
All the men in the bar stopped drinking
They all put their glasses on the upper Bar
They changed the music to something happy but not blaring.
The patrons adopted proper decorum and spoke quietly among themselves.

After 10 minutes, the doorman came back with bloodied knuckles, carrying a small boy who’d obviously been smacked around, followed by a dazed battered woman.

Without question the RN moved on to address the bruises and scrapes on the woman and little boy. The doorman, with easy familiarity grabbed a clean bar towel, filled it with ice from behind the bar and wrapped his right fist.

The little boy was watching the doorman closely, obviously curious about the towel and ice.

The doorman, smiled. He got up and made a smaller towel with a little bit of ice. He handed it to the little boy, “Hold this against your eye. It might hurt at first but the cold will make it feel better.”

The doorman rewrapped his fist and sat quietly watching the RN taking care of his patients. Eventually the RN got to the doorman’s scrapes & cuts.

The doorman tried to wave the RN away.

“Thad, let me do my job!”

The doorman sighed, “Okay, but I’m fine.”

The police arrived. They were obviously a little stunned. Usually, when they came into the bar it was rowdy and they were enforcing a noise complaint. Yet this time, the lights were on full and everyone was quiet and respectful.

The doorman, spoke briefly to them. A few minutes later an ambulance pulled up in front of the hotel.

Statements were taken and the woman and her children left with the police. Before they left, the children ran back to the table where the doorman was sitting and climbed onto him. They hugged him tight and he hugged them back with tears brimming.

“You’re going to be alright children. Take care of your mommy.”

Their mom said, “Thank you so much,” then collected her kids and left.


That is the gay community I remember. Yes, hated by many, but good men and women.

We at the time, were fighting for our equal place in society. We knew that equality would only come when we demonstrated in all other respects, except who we peopled our bed with, we were just like everyone else.

Drag shows are not the place for children. Gay bars are not the place for children. The LGB community knew that instinctively without question. The story above illustrates that simple fact.

What the fuck has happened to this community? Just because we were outliers then doesn’t mean we have to keep being outliers.

I know of no folks in the LGB community who would think for an instant that a Drag show should be attended by children. It’s adult entertainment for adults. You wouldn’t take children to a strip show. You wouldn’t take children to a bar with half naked go go boys dancing on the bar.

Hell, if you’re a responsible person you wouldn’t even show a movie with such depictions to children.

It’s not even about morality or puritanical religious squeamishness.

It’s about protecting a child’s innocence!

We all find our various kinks when we’re of age, when we’re ready for it, and when we’re old enough to handle it.

Let a child be a child, for God’s sake!


Then we have in Texas, a drag show with armed ANTIFA in black out clothing forming a perimeter. What the hell kind of message does that send?

What does a child think of that?

Especially after Uvalde and all the noise about AR-15s being dangerous. ”Only bad people carry AR-15s, run and hide if you see someone with one of those”.

Then 6 weeks later that same parent is saying, “come on in here don’t worry about the rifles.

You’ve already got a confused child, then you subject them to bad drag.

If that doesn’t cause a fear of clowns and makeup, I’ll be surprised.

Pennywise from IT

It’s long past time for the LGB community to stand up. It’s time for us to put a stop to this because we’re uniquely in a position to do so. The trans activists have hitched their wagon to the LGB community and the community has allowed it.

So now it’s our responsibility. We allowed this mess to be made it’s on us to clean it up!

Are we willing to let everything we fought so hard to gain be corrupted and stripped away by the actions of a fringe group of trans activists?

Are we willing to be shamed back into the closet by 1% of the population who simply choose to hitch their wagon to ours?

Will we allow all that we’ve accomplished to be degraded back to things like; Gays can’t marry, can’t have jobs, can’t have places to live, sodomy laws, and all that we managed to fix so that we can be thought of as equal?

I for one refuse!

I like being LGB and being treated with respect and normalcy. I like being able to get my freak on without worry of someone ratting me out to the cops for immoral behavior.

This trans activist bullshit has got to stop.

There are things that Trans folks need to have addressed. But not everyone is Trans!

How dare Trans activists imply that if someone likes the same sex they’d be happier transitioning to the opposite sex. There are little boys and little girls right now who would probably grow up CIS and LGB and be quite happy about it.

Those children deserve to discover their preferences in their own time, in their own way. How many boys and girls will have that joy of discovery ripped away from them by people deciding for them?

Isn’t that the same thing the Trans activists are saying is so wrong, when they say things like a Doctor assigns sex at birth?

Where have all the heroes gone? I’m sure as hell not a hero but if I’m all there is, then I’ll do my best.


Not Thad. But they’re cut from the same cloth

Thad – where ever you are now. 40 some odd years ago, you taught a green young man being gay or bi didn’t make you less a man, as men we still had responsibilities to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. You taught me that gay or bi didn’t have to be my whole personality, it was just a part of who I was. You gave me a memory of decency and strength. I’m eternally grateful.