Yearly Archives: 2009

A Gorgeous Ride

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Everything came together today, including time for a long motorcycle ride with some buddies. The temperature was perfect — low 80s (27°C) with a very low dew point, so it did not feel sticky. And it finally stopped raining! The work on our home renovation needed to take a pause. My aunt and a few others I check on regularly are doing well, so it’s time to RIDE!

We rode on Maryland’s twisty and hilly byways through three counties (though it seemed like more) to the Antietam Battlefield. The scenery was spectacular, with the sun filtering through the tall trees, and (most) all you heard was the thundering roar of the Harleys in front of you. I rode mid-pack, which is a comfortable place to be. Not in charge out front, not in the rear safety position — just out for a ride with fellow safe riders as we prepare to lead this ride again for visitors to a rally in a few weeks.

For visitors to this blog from outside the U.S., Antietam is an historic location, now turned into a national park. The battle that occurred here on September 17, 1862, was the first on “northern” soil in the U.S. Civil War, and was the bloodiest single-day battle in U.S. history, ever. It is located near the town of Sharpsburg.

I so much enjoyed getting out and shaking the dust off my Chippewa Firefighter boots (which are my most favourite to wear on a long ride when the weather is warm). I got a little sun (though sunscreen blocked the burn) and put 160 miles on my trusty Road King. It truly was a very special day.

Life is short: let’s get booted and ride!

Oh Yeah, It’s Pride

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Happy Gay Pride Week in DC. I had almost forgotten about it. Well, actually, I keep up with the news and knew that this past week was Gay Pride Week, but it’s really not a big deal for my partner and me. In fact, the only reason why we went into the city on the culminating weekend of Gay Pride Week in 2007 is when my friend Larry (of hotboots.com fame) was visiting. We joined some other guys for a rather poorly-attended “hotboots” party at a now defunct bar in the city.

Honestly, there are many other things that we would rather be doing today than go into the city and mill around with tens of thousands of LGBT people and their supporters. There’s something about gay pride festivals that draws out the queeniest of queens whose actions and statements (when shown on TV) demonstrate the stereotypes that straight people perceive about gay people. It just kinda makes me nauseous. And since my partner is the recluse’s recluse, he would much rather be anywhere alone than surrounded by all those people.

Later today, a group of us will saddle up on our trusty throbbing motors and head out to the Antietam Battlefield in Sharpsburg, Maryland, on beautiful back roads all the way. This break was earned after more work on our home’s hallway renovation project yesterday. Uggghhhh…. but I digress.

Why not attend the Gay Pride festival? …Been there, done that, got the sunburn. It truly is much too intense for us. Plus, it’s not an event where I would expect to see many people I know. My social circle is pretty much “suburbanite home-body.”

Further, we have no need to go to an event to surround ourselves with gay people so we can be “who we are.” Heck, we are who we are all the time, regardless. We live openly in an accepting atmosphere both where we work and at home, as well as in the community where I volunteer quite a bit. It’s not necessary for us to go to a Pride event because we’re already out, 365/24/7.

Some guys have told me that they like to go to the Pride festival so they can check out other guys or be entertained. Well, not us. I am not interested in checking out other guys when the best one is by my side. The entertainment at Pride festivals does not suit our tastes; I can live without the bunga-bunga-bunga throbbing noise played loudly at gay events. The throbbing noise I like best is that of my Harley (LOL!).

I anticipate that I will be home from my motorcycle ride in time to grill dinner out on the deck, fill a tall glass with ice water, put my boots up and sit with the man of my life while we watch the sun slowly sink behind the trees in our forest. That’s the life. Far more quiet, peaceful, and certainly much less intense and dramatic. Ahhhhh….

Life is short: know that you can have pride in being who you are without having to attend a once-a-year festival to display it.

Balance: The Company You Keep

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If you define balance by the company you keep, then look no further than my sphere of influentials. They truly are the ones who balance my life. They keep me sane, focused, involved, and loved. Who are these life-balancers?

  • My wonderful partner: He stands with me in life and has profoundly improved the “me” I have become. I can not say enough about his qualities of faithfulness, caring, integrity, and … (this is a G-rated blog.)

  • A great family: a large raucous bunch who treat their little brother with respect, dignity, graciousness, and lots of love. Yet they never let my head grow too big; they’re very good about keeping me grounded.

  • My twin brother: He is in every sense of the word my “bestest friend” and soulmate. We are different men. He loves to wear suits, ties, and dress shoes and I can’t stand those things. Other than that, he’s pretty cool. (smile).

  • My 94-year-old aunt: She is a warm, wonderful woman who I love dearly, and care for regularly. Her memory is lacking, but her charm is endearing.

  • A circle of close friends. I am afraid that if I tried to name all of them, I would forget to mention some, which wouldn’t be right. Let’s suffice it to say that I am richly blessed with caring, thoughtful, and generous friends who keep me safe, sane, grounded, and who help me in ways too numerous to count. There are those I have known my entire life and some I have met more recently. They listen, they love, they care, and I am indebted to them beyond what mere words can describe.

  • Senior buds: they get regular attention and give it back. They have opened my eyes to so many things and help me to remember that life truly can be joyful if we want to make it be that way.

  • Fellow motorcycle riders: they give me a chance to have a break from the chores and endless errands to get out and enjoy the scenery and camaraderie of fellow enthusiasts.

To have a balanced life, one has to surround himself with the best people who won’t be afraid to tell you when you’re getting out of whack, when something could be done better, when you need to be grounded, or who will give you that occasional “attaboy” when you’ve done something good. They stand by your side through thick and thin, and love ‘ya all the same. They never get catty, dramatic, or nasty when providing advice or ideas.

I truly believe that my life is indeed well-balanced because of the company I choose to keep. After all…

Life is short: let those you love show they love you (and love ’em back!)

Balance: Life Activities

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My fellow blogger buddy, Tef, pointed out in a post on his blog on June 11 about how he is taking some time to do some things that he enjoys during a prolonged break, which he titled “recuperation.” He described that doing these things helps to bring balance to his life, and keeps him sane. He described content of my blog posts and stated that I have a balanced life. Thanks, man, what a compliment! I am honored, truly.

Sometimes I really wonder how balanced my life is. I presume it depends on how one defines “balance.”

If you define balance by looking at the variety of things that I do and the people with whom I interact, then I guess you can say that my life is fairly well-balanced.

I have a full-time management position with a well-respected non-profit organization based in Washington, DC. The work challenges me every day, and requires superb skills of balancing time and schedules, responsiveness to staff, and tedium with financial accounting. But I love it. Great place to work, great staff, terrific intellectual stimulation.

But wait… there’s more! My life outside of work is, um, “rather full.”

Being involved in my community as a civic leader has defined, at least for me, what “civic duty” means. It is not always fun. It sometimes is tedious and tiring. It has taught me how to remain calm and build consensus. Ultimately, this volunteer work makes our home, our community, and our state a better place to live, work, raise a family, and enjoy life.

Caring for seniors is a joy, not a responsibility. Sure, there are times I feel overwhelmed or stretched, but I look at it this way: isn’t it nice to be in demand? Tools and smiles are on the way….

Keeping up our home and the rental properties I own is a non-ending set of ongoing tasks. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by that, too, but it all works out, eventually, even with competing demands for my time.

Blogging, maintaining my websites, reading (yes, I actually do read real books, at least one a week), playing political wonk, etc., etc., occupy a lot of my time as well. These activities also bring balance my life through diversity of activities.

Getting a chance to go swimming or for a long walk does not happen nearly as much as it should, but I enjoy those activities as well.

Writing letters to elected officials, public agencies, and private companies to lodge concerns, complaints, or suggest actions is something I do often. Call me “rent-a-kvetch,” where the rent is free for the satisfaction of resolving a pesky problem or advocating for a good idea.

In summary, I presume that one can say that my life is balanced, while others may say that it is out of control. However you measure it, I often think to myself (and discuss this with my partner and brother) that the activities I do are not to win affection nor to win titles or certificates of achievement, but rather to exercise what is to me a very spiritual thing: to provide service without expectation of reward or compensation. That’s my “life calling,” as taught to me by my parents, demonstrated to me by them and my mentors, supported by my partner, and carried out by me each day.

Life is short: show those you love that you love them, and remember to smile each time you do! … and tune in tomorrow to this same blog channel for the second in the series on balance: people!

You’re Talkin’ To the Wrong Guy

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On Saturday, I spent a good bit of time at the destination of a motorcycling fundraiser activity organized by my club. I rode my Harley there, and was dressed “traditional biker” — meaning I was wearing jeans, t-shirt, Chippewa Wildland Firefighter boots, and my leather vest with patches on it related to the club. I looked like any other biker/club member.

I guess because it looked like I knew what was going on or that I was in charge (I wasn’t, but perhaps at the time I may have been giving directions on setting up the grilling station), a visitor walked up to me with a buxom brunette. He said that he had opened a franchise of a restaurant in a local strip shopping center, and that on Monday nights at 8pm, he would be offering specials on wings and beer, served by fine young ladies like her (pointing to his companion.) He explained that he was trying to appeal to the biker market and wanted my club’s help in patronizing his establishment.

Okay, I can understand that. The economy still sucks and fewer people are eating out. He knows that a competitive restaurant that uses an owl symbol for a logo and the owl’s call in its name has a “bike night” every Thursday night, so he wants to get in on the action.

What he didn’t realize is that he was talking to a guy who doesn’t eat out, who doesn’t stay up late (defined as after 9pm), who doesn’t drink alcohol, who is gay, and who finds that owl place distasteful and won’t patronize it.

I tried to be nice, but when he persisted to ask if I personally would come to his “bike night” next Monday night, I first said, “well, no; it’s too late.” I explained that for me, 8pm is just too late. I also explained that appealing to responsible motorcyclists by offering reduced prices on beer is not such a good idea. A responsible biker will avoid drinking alcohol if he will be riding his bike, such as back home.

The franchise owner thought about it and said, “that makes sense. How about if I offer $2 pitchers of soft drinks and hot wings served by (the girl with him), would you come then?”

Ummm… no. I’m not really interested. As I said, I just don’t like to go out after work. And I can’t eat spicy food. It doesn’t agree with me. But that’s just me. My diet is strange.

But the guy persisted… “we really need your business, and you can have fun being entertained by (the buxom babe.)”

I finally had enough. I smiled at him and said, “look, I’m gay. I am really not interested.”

The franchise owner’s jaw dropped, but I have to give him credit for not saying something stupid. He just said, “well, can’t blame a guy for tryin’.” Good response! I told him that I appreciated what he was doing and although what he was promoting isn’t something that I was personally interested in, I would still be happy to let others in the club know about it. He said thanks and he and his companion went on their way.

Hmmm… this masculine gay man has done it again — broken stereotypes without even trying.

Life is short: be the man you are, and enjoy life!

Smilin’ Biker

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I am always a sucker for a smile on anyone, but especially my family and friends. Recently, I “accused” my buddy Clay of not smiling in a series of photos he had posted on the Internet. I have seen his smile before, so I kidded with him about being so serious.

The same day this email exchange was bantering back and forth between us and among some other buddies, I had to go on some quick visits to some of my senior buds after work. It was pleasant, so I used my Harley to go on these visits, dressed as shown. Quarterly estimated income tax payments are due soon, so it was time to help my friends make out the checks and get their respective payments in the mail to Uncle Sam and the state.

To each and every senior bud I visited, I shared a huge warm smile and a hug. One of them made me laugh by saying with a return grin, “I never saw anyone who was always so happy — and even when paying taxes, yet!”

When I got home from these visits, I asked my partner to take a picture of me. I especially wore a big smile. It was my intention to hold the photo to post for Clay sometime. But he beat me to it with a series of very nice photos, all of him with huge grins that he said that I inspired. Bless him.

I am glad that I coaxed a smile out of him. He is a warm, thoughtful, and humourous man who I am proud to call my “booted twin.” The smile I am wearing in this photo is for him, and for all others who I know and don’t know.

Remember what I quote often, by H. Jackson Brown: Today, give a stranger one of your smiles. It might be the only sunshine he sees all day.

And here’s another one I recently found that I like:

A smile is the light in the window of your face that tells people you’re at home.

Childish Antics

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Every now-and-then, I like to put on a uniform. I am not a sworn peace officer, so I don’t wear such an outfit around my community. In the past, I may have worn it to a fetish event. Nowadays, I wear it at home sometimes and have fun with my partner.

Like all my other leather gear and uniforms, photos of me in this uniform are on my website. These pages on my website are mature. That is, they have been there for several years. So enter “CHP Uniform” into Google or any other search engine, and the page on my website comes up rather high in the rankings.

Trouble is, there are some people who stumble upon my page on my website and either don’t understand, or behave stupidly when they see it. For example, last week someone who frequents a forum having to do with handguns posting a link to the CHP Uniform page on my website. While he didn’t say much, the replies he got indicated to me that there remain a lot of very childish people who are active with these forums, and say all sorts of silly things.

Well, I have three responses to that:

1. Sticks-and-stones … just as I learned in grade school, this phrase still applies to adults who act as if they are still in grade school. Your names will not hurt me, and if you think you’re being funny, I feel very sorry for you. (One even ridiculed Diversity training — it’s obvious that such training does not work for some people.)

2. I am a confident, masculine gay man. Just as I wrote in a blog post last December, I still feel that confident and masculine gay men still scare straight men. They can’t figure us out, so they pick on us and say silly things because they lack self-confidence and are insecure.

3. I have temporarily relocated my CHP Uniform page on my website. I’ll wait until the kiddies who linked to it grow tired of not finding the page then I will bring it back to where it was.

Why people who are supposedly mature adults have to behave this way is beyond my comprehension. Oh well, I know the risks I take with such an active presence on the internet. I live with it and move on. Life is too short to let childish antics and name-calling bother me.

Home Renovation: Phase 1

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Renovation of the upstairs hallway in our home is under way. Nine days ago, my partner accidentally ruined the carpet that once covered the hallway wall-to-wall.

Rather that just replace the carpeting, which would be far too simple and not take enough time, we decided to install hardwood flooring instead.

Over the next few weeks, this will be our project. Before we began to work on the floor, my partner and I repainted the walls and baseboard. We did that last week. While I was away on travel last week, my partner (ever the perfectionist) repainted the walls two more times.

Yesterday, we tore up the old carpet and padding. We also worked carefully to remove old carpet tack strips that were against both walls. Then we pulled up staples that were embedded in the underlayment (plywood flooring underneath.)

The dark gray area on the right in this photo is an area that I had to float with a compound that brought the floor back to being level. Over time, that spot had developed a dip, so I fixed it before we put flooring back over it. I also carefully walked all over the hall to check for areas that squeaked. When I found a squeaky area, I screwed the flooring in that area onto the rafters underneath. The floor squeaketh no more.

We took the old carpet, padding, and other junk to the dump. That’s my partner’s rule: create debris, and get rid of it. Don’t let it stick around nor accumulate. When we got back, we cleaned the floor carefully, to prepare it for the next step: applying the engineered wood flooring product. Check back for another blog update soon on how we’re doing.

Life is short: wear your boots (while you work! I wore Chippewa Engineer Boots in the morning and Wesco Harness Boots in the afternoon.)

Grillin’ in Boots and Leather

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Here I am, grilling dinner out on our deck in boots and leather last evening. It was quite pleasant about dinnertime (6pm). Considering it had been raining for several days, it was especially nice to get outside to cook and eat dinner. The temperature was perfect for lightweight leather pants and a pair of patrol boots.

Funny, I spent most of the day yesterday grilling. Instead of leading a ride for my club (since I get lost in a paper bag), I went to the final destination in the morning and helped fellow club members prepare for and grill the dogs and burgers for the participants in the ride. I left in the early afternoon to get home in time to do some chores around our house.

I prepare a home-cooked dinner every night, since my partner and I prefer to eat at home. When it is not raining, I usually prepare our meals on the grill on the deck off the kitchen. I have gotten pretty good at grilling vegetables (peppers, carrots, potatoes, corn, squash and zucchini — all veggies my partner loves) in addition to various meats on the grill. Then we eat outside, talk about life, our plans and dreams, and watch the sun slowly sink behind the trees.

Life is short: wear your boots and leather!

Memories From More Retired Boots

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You are seeing the heel of a Corcoran Field Boot. I decided to put these boots on with a pair of tactical police pants last week to see how they went together. I had forgotten how comfortable these boots really were.

An hour later, my partner asked, “what are all those black things on the floor?” I looked, and notice that the heel on my left boot was crumbling apart. Day-yum!

I don’t quite know what it is, but this is the second pair of military boots I have owned that have had a rubber heel crumble. The first pair whose heels crumbled were Bates “Floataway” Patatrooper Parade Boots. Now these!

There is a type of rubber product between the heel plate and the bottom of the sole that apparently dried out and as soon as I put weight on it by walking, it just crumbed apart. So once again, I have another non-functionable pair of boots.

I spoke with a friend who is a cobbler, and he is familiar with the boot and this situation. He said that he could not resole the boots due to the way they are made, and advised to throw them away. Are you sure? Yep. Day-yum!

While I wore these Corcoran Field Boots on a number of skydives, these weren’t the boots I had on when I achieved my record, so they don’t have a particular significance other than being darned comfortable boots. Tell ‘ya the truth, much more comfortable than traditional Corcoran II jump boots.

My favorite memory while wearing this particular pair of boots is really a funny story. I was skydiving near Sacramento (California, USA) on a windy day. I was able to control my chute and land on dry land, but my fellow skydiving buddies landed in a rice paddy. I went to look for them and when I found them, they were sunk in muddy, wet goo and holding their arms high in the air. They were being held at gunpoint by a farmer. The farmer was from Vietnam, and must have had flashbacks at seeing guys in Camo landing by parachute on his land. We negotiated our way out of that situation, and laughed about it for years after.

These boots are gone, but not forgotten. I wonder now what other of my military boots are going to fall apart next….

Life is short: wear your boots (as long as the soles aren’t crumbling!)