My blog posts of late have indicated the fullness and vitality of loving life. And I really do believe I am most blessed by God by having a wonderful and supportive life-mate in my partner, a caring and humongous family, and terrific friends — some of whom I have known since I was three years old. I’m even more blessed by my additional “brothers” in my cherished “AZ”, Clay, and UTBR. Blessings continue with my relationship with a huge band of seniors whom I have come to adore and spend a lot of time with. However, that’s what I’m blogging about today — my senior pals, most of whom live lonely lives ’cause their kids forget about them.

Mabel called at 4am the other day. She’s one of my senior friends who like many others, lives alone. She has two daughters who live in distant states. From time to time, I do some household repairs for her, have her join my aunt and me when we do our weekly grocery shopping, and sometimes just sit and listen. She’s among a close group who serve, in a way, as another adopted “family.”

Whenever the phone rings at 4am, it is never good news. Mabel sounded very concerned — she said that she heard a loud “ka-thump” in the apartment above her. She thought that her upstairs neighbor fell. She tried calling him and then knocked on his door, but there was no answer. She was afraid that she was overreacting, and didn’t want to call the security station at her retirement community because she had been admonished once for “bothering them.” (I don’t know the full story; nonetheless, she is reluctant to call them.)

Mabel has a key to her neighbor’s condo, but didn’t want to go in alone. She was afraid. She called me. I got up, got dressed, told my partner what was going on. He sighed and asked me to send him an email at work later to let him know what happened.

A few minutes later, I had arrived at Mabel’s apartment. She and I knocked, then opened her neighbor’s door. We found him in his bedroom. He had collapsed. He wasn’t breathing and there was no heartbeat. I called 9-1-1 and the community’s security station. While in the kitchen by the phone, I saw a “DNR” (do not resuscitate) order posted on the refrigerator. Responders were there in a flash, and I pointed out the DNR order. They understood, and just turned it over to the cops. Mabel’s neighbor died. Alone.

The cops who came were outstanding in their calmness, professionalism, and compassion. They explained what happens when someone dies alone. They conducted an investigation, but knew that nothing sinister happened. Mabel’s 90-year-old neighbor who had been living alone for over a decade had a cardiac arrest. Mabel cried, held my hand, and just wanted to talk. She was frightened. I just sat with her for several hours until the coroner arrived and the cops said we could go.

The man’s daughter who lives about 50 miles away arrived, breathless. “I talked to him last week on the phone,” she said tearfully. That wasn’t the time to criticize anyone. A week is a long, long time when you’re alone.

My partner wonders why I call about 15 people every day when I get home from work. They have no one else to check on them. No one else to call. They’re alone. It’s so sad. Nobody should be alone in the world, nobody.

If you have family or friends who live alone, give ’em a call, if nothing other than to say that you’re thinking of them. Give them an ear to share a story, a thought, a memory, an idea. Send them a card on their birthday and at other times too — I go “card crazy” sometimes by sending cards for no reason at all, other than to say, “you’re important; you’re thought of today.” (I really ought to by stock in Hallmark.)

Being alone doesn’t mean that one has to be lonely. Who knows, when you call someone living alone, you might learn something! I sure do. I learn a lot about life, about love, and about things that enrichen my spirit, my knowledge, and myself. I am a much better man for the richness of the souls whose lives are intertwined with mine.

Life is short: show those you love that you love them.

I blogged about this in April and again today: it’s nigh-to-impossible for a cop, firefighter, or teacher to be able to afford to live in the county where he or she works.

Some think that salaries of public servants are “too high.” Certainly for those who have made a commitment to stay for a long time, and who have earned promotions, studied hard to obtain advanced college degrees, and take on extra assignments like after-school group supervision or overtime, find that their incomes are higher than others. But that’s how it should be. Those who work the longest and hardest should be rewarded by appropriate compensation.

The problem is for the younger people starting their public service careers. In their 20s, usually fresh out of college or technical school, often with massive student loan debt, and perhaps newly married wanting to start a family — how in the heck can they afford to buy a home in a county where the median price of an existing home exceeds a half-million dollars (US$500,000)? With a 5% down payment (of course, better if more, but let’s use this for an example), the anticipated monthly principal and interest (calculated at 6.5% on a 30-year fixed rate mortgage) would exceed $3,000, plus several hundred more per month for PMI and escrow to pay taxes and homeowners insurance. Even for a two-income couple, that amount of money is way above what reputable lenders would allow to be financed.

That’s why these days we see cops, firefighters, and teachers renting, because they can’t afford to buy. Some still live with their parents. Some decide to buy a starter home (condo or townhouse) way far away, far beyond the county where they work. Thus they have to endure a commute from hell, for hours each way. With the cost of fuel, many can no longer afford to do that, either, and sometimes have to quit their job in our county because they can’t afford to commute or live where they work.

This week I feel good because I was able to put a very small dent in this dilemma for a starting teacher and her construction-worker husband who are relocating here from another state. A few months ago, I bought a house that had gone into foreclosure. The house was right next door to another one that I own and rent to a fine young police officer. I spent time to fix it up, do repairs, replace the electrical system, have a new roof put on, replace the water heater, and some other less intensive repairs. My partner even did the painting (I hate to paint!)

The county sent me a list of prospective tenants and I selected this bright young and eager first-year teacher to live in that house. She has been assigned to a school that is just four miles away. She will have time she needs to spend at school doing the extra things a new teacher has to do, as well as attend classes for an advanced degree when she is ready. She will have the time because her commute will be so short. And her husband shouldn’t have trouble finding construction work — our county and the general geographic area where we live is still in the midst of a building boom.

I accept a less-than-market rent (and can deduct the difference from my taxes, as well as what it cost me to renovate the house). I don’t do this for the rental income — income and expenses work out to be a wash in the long run anyway — I do it because, well, I can. I can say truthfully next time I testify before our county council or planning board, “I am making a difference. Are you?”

One person, one couple, one house at-a-time. Sure, have all the “affordable housing” talk you want, but if you’re serious about it, do something. I am very happy that I did.

The subject: resistance to adopting technology — title of this post means, “Greetings, Julius (Caesar)”.

Yeah, for those who don’t know, I studied Latin for eight terms; four years in high school and four semesters in college, including one in Italy where I was able to read and attempt to translate original works. Latin remains quite alive in our English language, and I credit my high school Latin teacher (who truly WAS on a first-name basis with Julius Caesar) for instilling in me a love of the language that taught me how to write in English. Before studying Latin, I couldn’t write worth a hoot. Now, some 30+ years later, I have published several books, articles, and scholarly reports.

I take a lot of light-hearted ribbing from friends about how I am slow and resistant to adopt new technology. Thus, some claim that I remain on a first-name basis with Julius Caesar like my Latin teacher. My #1 resistance is to cell phones. Man, I hate those things. They are annoying yet ever-present in today’s society. I just saw a kid who was about five years old yakking on one yesterday.

Okay, fine, they provide convenience. But you know, the world still turned and we managed quite well before they became so ubiquitous. Kids were able to go play and know when it was time to come inside by listening for someone to yell for them, or the church bells ring, or simply by looking at a clock. Not any more… yuppies and yuppettes all claim that their kids “need” one for their safety. Oh, gimme a break. Kids managed quite fine back in the day. The world really is not any less (or more) safe today. Kids don’t “need” cell phones, and their parents really don’t, either. But the parents have succumbed to the marketing sales hyperbole of the wireless industry. (Hyperbole? Well, I studied Ancient Greek, too).

Seriously, the reason why I am so resistant to cell phones is two-fold: First, I witnessed a close friend get killed by someone yapping on a cell phone. He was riding his Harley in front of me, … I’ll never forget the horror. I blame it all on inattentive driving caused by an SUV-driver being more concerned about talking on the blasted phone than watching where she was going. Second, I really don’t like making rich companies richer. All the wireless phone companies are making a mint off of every person who yaps away on the “unlimited” plans, and texting too.

So here is a contradiction: I have one of those things. My work requires it. But if work didn’t pay for it, I wouldn’t have one. My partner doesn’t have one. Heck, if he had his druthers, we wouldn’t have a phone in the house. But that’s becuase he is a recluse.

What my friends who claim that I am more of an ancient Roman (rather than of Italian descent) do not recognize is that I have adopted certain technologies, like building a personal website (I have several other websites, as well), and even this medium: blogging. There are some technologies that are fun and don’t cost that much. Certainly, email is a technology that I use a lot — I have made friends all over the world and can use email to keep in touch. Sure beats the cost of a long-distance call. (Remember toll charges? Huh?)

Two other media to which I do not subscribe is texting and instant messaging. Texting is another way for wireless companies to make a lot of money. As for IM, I have tried it, but discontinued it because it takes time that I simply do not have. IM programs are blocked where I work, for good reason. The kids around there would IM all day if they could. At home, I seldom have more than a few minutes here-and-there on the computer, so using IM wouldn’t be fair to others, because I can’t stay on line that long. Same applies to on-line chat forums. I just don’t have the time and can’t make the time on a regular basis.

And don’t get me started about “Crackberries.” OMG, … what a very expensive waste of money. The world will survive if you can’t read that email immediately. Seriously. Turn it off and see what happens. Betcha the sun still comes up tomorrow morning.

So that is today’s musing… ab ovo usque ad mala

The simple thought or question, “how can I help you?” … seems to have been replaced by the question, “what will you do for me?” Man, that just drives me nuts. The Starbucks-swilling Beemer-driving yuppies were all over the grocery store and parking lot today where I regularly take some elderly friends shopping.

They stand in the middle of the aisle, as if they are the only ones there. They get angry if you are in their way but don’t give a hoot if they block you. They stand there swilling their coffee and yapping on their cell phones expecting to have privacy, and give a dirty look if you say, “pardon me, but the apples that my friend wants are behind you, will you kindly move?”

They leave the store and walk the shopping cart out to their SUV, which they parked as close as they could to the store, even if it meant circling the lot a dozen times instead of just parking a little further away in a clear space. After unloading their groceries into their car, they just put the cart wherever… they wouldn’t think of bringing back to the store. Nooo… it’s all about them, their needs, what’s best for them.

I tell ‘ya, nuts this behavior drives me. But I remember what I was taught by my parents and from my faith, to love, to live, and ask, “how can I help you?” Seriously, this world would be far better if more people just took a sec to think about someone else other than themselves.

Pardon the rant, but today’s fiasco at the grocery store just sent me over the edge. If I hadn’t pulled a child out of the way, a Beemer-driving, cell-phone yapping yuppie would have creamed her. The driver didn’t even look, stop, or give a damn. I pray for his soul.

Today the United States celebrates its birthday of 232 years since it declared itself independent from Britain. I prefer to call this day “Independence Day” because it the true name of the holiday. I mean, we can always wish someone a “Happy Fourth”, but then again, we can wish them a “Happy Fifth,” too. All days should be happy, but today is a great one to celebrate the birth of this great nation (with all its faults, it’s still a great place to be.)

I had been coaching two friends to become U.S. citizens for about a year now. They passed their citizenship test a few months ago. Today, they were sworn in as our newest citizens in Baltimore. What better way to enjoy this particular holiday but welcome new citizens to our country, and sign them up to vote!

Shortly after the ceremony, we celebrated at Fort McHenry, where the famous “Star Spangled Banner” flew during the bombardment of the fort during the war of 1812. Francis Scott Key was held aboard a British ship and watched the bombs bursting in air and the illumination of the flag throughout the night. Thus, he penned a poem which was put to music and became our National Anthem.

We will enjoy a traditional Maryland crab feast at my brother’s home with all of my humongous family this afternoon. Then if the weather permits, watch fireworks at Baltimore Harbor. It was the bombardment of Baltimore by the British during the War of 1812 that caused fireworks to be related to our country’s birthday celebration. What better place to enjoy fireworks but where that relationship was born?

I love this holiday, and hope you do too. Happy Independence Day, and Happy Birthday, America!

I went skydiving with friends today on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. The photo shown here is of me taken years ago. Unfortunately, today in my haste to get out of the house to ride over to meet my buddies, I forgot my camera! I’m waiting for a bud to send me some of the pics that he took.

I used to go skydiving almost every weekend from May – October for years. As I have aged, and have a partner who can’t enjoy this sport, I don’t go skydiving as often. It’s a young man’s activity. Also, it’s just darned expensive. Fuel for airplanes is more expensive than fuel for cars.

It was so hot today — about 95°F (35°C) — that the heat rising from the land was rising faster than my rate of descent after I deployed my ‘chute to its full extension, so I rose in altitude for a while, and just “hung around” enjoying the view (what I could see of it through the haze). When I was over my DZ (drop zone), I pulled in the flaps, and slowly drifted down. I landed right on the spot I intended, each and every time.

I had an enjoyable day, hangin’ out in the cloudless sky.