When I get bad news, I mean really, really bad news, I “go quiet.” I want to sit, to think, and prepare my resolve for what lies ahead.

I’m in that frame of mind right now. Someone I knew well (pictured above in happier times, seated in my Harley for a photo op), just died today. I worked hard for him, cared a lot about him, and extended my caring to his family and larger loyal legion. This gentleman is a man whose political campaign I worked on to be elected to our County Council during a special election that had to be held after his wife, my mentor and dear friend, died — eerily, one year ago today.

I am exploring my feelings through my faith. If you send me an email and I don’t reply, don’t take it personally. I just need some space, some time, and some cuddle time with my partner. He knows how to show that he cares, just to sit with me by my side, hold my hand, and love me. Let me cry, let me scream, let me express myself. And just listen. My partner is the world’s #1 listener. What a treasure he is to me.

I kindly ask my loyal blog readers to be patient as I work through what will be difficult days ahead with emotions, and build my strength to help my friend’s family during their time of need. This whole situation is so very sad, and I’m heartbroken. But I’ll be back; I’ll just be less on-line for a while.

I tell ‘ya, it’s hell being old. And while it may sound like I am speaking about myself, this time I’m not. I spent the day on Saturday with some older neighbors. I had thought that it might take an hour or two in order to get some small chores done, but … well… one thing led to another.

At first, Mrs. T needed some help moving some boxes out of storage. Fine. I went with her to the storage room, unlocked the door, and got the first box. She picked up a very small, light box, and as she was carrying it up a flight of stairs, she lost her balance and fell because she couldn’t see where she was going. I felt badly that I wasn’t close enough to prevent a fall. Fortunately she didn’t break anything. But the fall shook her up, and made her feel afraid to walk any more. I carefully helped her return to her home.

I brewed her a cup of tea, gave her some acetominophen, and just talked for a while. That made her feel better. (Made me feel better, too, because as she recomposed herself, I was assured that there was no physical injury from a pretty hard fall.)

… two hours elapse …

I’m now at my aunt’s home paying bills and reviewing her meds. She had another new med prescribed by a neurologist yesterday. This new med is designed to work in combination with another med she already takes. I was reading the package insert, and it kept saying that the drug combo is particularly well-suited to treat Alzheimer’s Disease. Oh sheesh… her diagnosis is dementia, but now the doc changed the meds to treat something more frightening. I didn’t have the heart to tell her. But her memory is so bad (thus the drugs), she wouldn’t remember if I did tell her. And I wonder, does it matter at age 94, anyway?

… an hour later …

I’m back home, learning more about the condition of a friend who serves in local elected office and who was very recently diagnosed with colon cancer, and remains hospitalized. Darn! His wife, who was a very dear friend of mine (and also served in that same office for 17 years), died almost a year ago. This is really distressing news.

… then the phone rings …

Mr. S, one of my bocci-playing buds with whom I converse in Italian so I can keep up my language skills, called and asked me to come over but wasn’t very clear about why. I didn’t press; I just hopped in my truck and went over there. I found him on the floor of his bedroom, wedged between the large queen-size bed and the wall. He was stuck! He said that he lost balance while changing the sheets and fell into that position.

It was easy enough for me to pull the bed away and help him get out of his predicament. But he couldn’t do it himself because he no longer had the strength. He told me that he had been stuck that way for about three hours, and finally decided that there just wasn’t any way he could move. He pulled the phone’s cord that was within reach (thank goodness!) and thought to call me. He said that he called me because my phone number is easy to remember, and he didn’t want to call the rescue squad because he really didn’t have that “level” of emergency (so he thought.) Well, anyway, he’s okay.

But it is Hell Being Old!

One can’t help but be moved by the peaceful transition of power as our 44th President took the oath of office.

I had a great view of the activities, but from multiple screens in a huge room where operations were being monitored. I enjoyed that, actually. I sat there, Dehner booted, with a bunch of (very young) civilian law enforcement guys and military dudes, watching events unfold. Everything remained peaceful, and all visitors — gazillions of them — were able to enjoy the events from the swearing-in of the President to the parade, as late as it got started and lasted.

Some folks on local news were complaining about how cold it was and that they thought they could endure it, but decided to turn back and go home. But about every five minutes, there was yet another teary-eyed person on the news saying that they never thought “this” could happen — the election and assumption of the Office of the President of the United States by someone who is African-American.

Those gathered where I was applauded at some major points in the President’s Inaugural speech. Some of them also applauded at Prez 43, which I could not do. I didn’t boo him (as was reported that some people observing the ceremonies did), but I sure was happy to see him go. And especially, to see that evil Deputy Prez get into a limo and be driven away.

I am pleased that as far as I could tell, our Metro system didn’t collapse, though there was one major problem when a woman fell or got pushed onto the tracks during the height of the morning travel time. Fortunately, she wasn’t injured badly and was rescued by a visiting cop. The rest of the reports indicated that the Metro functioned — so I eat my words when I predicted its failure the other day.

I am happy. I am very happy. Same is true for my partner, most of my family, friends, and neighbors, as well as most other Americans today. Let’s look forward to working together for a better tomorrow.

Today, on the date of the historic inauguration of the 44th President of the United States, I am working on a special project, where I will be observing the coordinated and planned response actions of our fine law enforcement, fire departments, and other emergency response officials as they strive to provide for a safe series of events in Washington DC today. I will be able to watch today’s ceremonies on large TV screens, but (fortunately) not be out in the throngs of people.

This message was posted, actually, before I got there, but was scheduled to appear on this momentous day. I’ll write more about how it all went tomorrow. Let’s just hope that the only problems that occur today are minor inconveniences due to crowds and cold.

Watch history, savor the moment, and let’s work together to make things better. Frankly, I am sick and tired of the “terror” era, where this past President and his Deputy President did so much damage to our country in so many ways. I will be jumping for joy when I see that guy get on his helicopter, go to Andrews, get on a plane, and scram back to Texas. I wonder if they have a vault in Wyoming to stick the Deputy Prez in? Let’s hope we’re completely rid of the most dangerous person ever to serve in government in my lifetime.

We can make things better, we can rebuild our economy, we can reconstitute many damaged international relationships, we can bring our boys home, we can move on… one step at a time. Let’s do it!

In Honor of Dr. Martin Luther King’s legacy, today was declared a national day of service in the United States. My community had a major program going to support it. My partner and I contributed to this event by collecting non-perishable food items for a local food bank. Unfortunately, since the economy is so bad, donations to the food bank have fallen off considerably.

Last week, I made a few phone calls, and got my legion of “elder buds” organized to donate some canned goods. I asked them to leave them at their door and we would come by to pick them up today. By yesterday evening, I had logged over 100 places to stop. Fortunately, I invited a couple of friends who offered to help pick up the donations since there’s no way I could have made all those stops myself (even with my partner’s help).

My partner has a unique relationship with a major grocery chain. We asked them to help out, and that they did. We collected a bunch of boxes of perfectly good but unsaleable food, including canned soup, boxed foods and cereals, and a lot of other stuff. We were there at 6am this morning, and we had to come back for a second load since we couldn’t pack all of it into my truck. We dropped off the second load to the food bank by 8am.

Then we came home and rested for a bit. By noon, off we went again. My friends had collected about half of the donations on my list, and met us for lunch at a nearby café. The list seemed to have expanded. They told me that they showed up at one place, and found bags from nearby residences waiting as well. When they thought they might have one bag to pick up, they had 3…or 5… or in one case, 10.

My partner and I found the same. Everywhere we went, we found many more donations than expected. The generosity was overwhelming, and very gratifying. The look on the faces of the people at the food bank was great to see.

We went back and forth, between pickups, dropoffs, and home in between. All-in-all, the Food Bank folks told us that we hauled in over 2,100 items. I’m happy to have been a part of providing essential service to our community. But man oh man, am I BEAT!

Oh, what did I wear? Tall Wesco Haness boots, brown leather jeans, and layers up top (t-shirt, flannel shirt, sweater, coat). It was cold out, but doing all that work made me sweat a bit, so I was constantly taking off my jacket, removing a layer, and putting it back on. Oh well, I was comfortable. (And nope, no one said a thing about the leather jeans or the boots, except one cute little old lady who said, “those boots look big. I mean really big!” I just laughed, and thanked her for her donation).

I had a great Sunday. My partner and I woke slowly, snuggled warmly together. We probably cuddled and talked for an hour before I got up, dressed in full leather, and went out to get the Sunday paper. Then I prepared a great Cialda brunch (waffles), with all the trimmings. I love to prepare a big Sunday brunch when I can. (Of course, “brunch” for us is about 9am, but that’s really late — for us!)

And yeah, there I am in full leather. Why not? After all, it is “leather weekend” in DC, and I just enjoy wearing it. (And no, that’s not my hair falling in my eyes; it’s a bad angle of the camera, catching something on the wall behind me. My partner isn’t much of a photographer, but he tries.)

After brunch, I went to the grocery store to buy some stuff we needed for today’s culinary creations, and also to get some things for some elderly friends. I wore my Chippewa Hi-Shine boots, side-laced leather jeans, leather shirt, and my Taylor’s leather cop jacket. No one — none of my elderly friends, no one at the store, not one of the six neighbors and fellow community activists I spoke with — no one nowhere — said a thing about all the leather. They just asked me questions, talked about various community issues, the weather, and so on. No one cares about me being in leather.

My favorite grocery store staffer asked me if the boots were new, and if I were riding my Harley (not — still too cold!) I saw a guy coming into the store as I was leaving, and we both said about the same time, “nice boots!” I also gave him a very hearty smile as I said that, and he returned the same. But he had two kids in tow, so I don’t think we were going to stop to chat about boots.

When I got home, my partner and I spent a quiet afternoon making pasta. Once again, we made cheese ravioli. It’s easy to do, but takes some time. With nothing else on my plate since my civic duties get a week’s break due to the Presidential inauguration, we got busy preparing one of our favorite meals. And it tasted great, too! Yum-ee!

All-in-all, it was a great day on Sunday.

I’m generally not one for surprises, and often somehow I find out about them, but not on Monday. I took the bus to meet a long-term friend for lunch. My friend is the CEO and President of a non-profit organization now. But I knew her, “when….” We go waaaaay back together, and have done a lot of things on a variety of projects and activities for years and years that have made people safer.

She told me that we were going to meet at a nice restaurant, and that a few mutual friends would also be there. The premise for our luncheon was that these old friends were in town for a meeting, and wouldn’t it be nice to get together to reminisce? These old friends were part of a former team where we collaborated and made some major breakthroughs back in “our day.”

As I walked into the restaurant, my friend met me at the door, and said “we have a table back here.” Still oblivious, I followed her.

When I entered the reserved back room, there were about 30 people there, including my partner who never, ever, ever shows up for lunch at a restaurant. I had to blink and rub my eyes and then just stand there saying, “wha…wha…why?” I usually don’t mumble or stammer, but this was such a surprise, I was at a complete loss for words. Then I saw my boss, and the boss’ boss, and the head of that agency, and this organization, and the veritable “who’s who” of the field.

I was presented with an award for outstanding contributions to my profession, given by a well-respected, major national organization. I was flabbergasted! I thought these awards were given at the national conference in April. But I found out that what they do is make the actual presentation early, and then invite the recipient and his spouse — in my case, my partner — to the big awards presentation at the national conference, at their expense.

I remain dumbfounded and amazed and totally surprised. Seriously! Who woulda thunk? Like Sally Field said a long time ago, “they like me, they really like me!”

But, loyal readers, don’t think that this award will go to my head. My partner will keep me grounded, as he manages to do so well. Meanwhile, I’m floating on air, and I can’t remove this silly grin from my face.

Life is short: but oh heck, it’s so much fun to live!