Memorial Day Weekend

The weekend in Pittsburgh went quite well. My partner and I helped his mother around her house, from making some minor home improvements to lots of yard work. The visit was low-key and laid-back, and MIL was thankful and appreciative.

We arrived back in Maryland early enough today, Monday, for me to go help a veteran of World War II with some improvements to his home to make it safer and more comfortable to live in. At age 88, he lives alone. His wife died five years ago, and he loves their old house. But it needed work — from a ramp to make it easier to get into the front door past some once-difficult steps, to better lighting, grab bars in the bath and kitchen, and a new smoke alarm. He’s happy and content.

I learned a lot from my new senior pal. I love “oral history.”

So instead of riding in Rolling Thunder yesterday or observing other larger gatherings, parades, or whatnot, my partner and I did a “one-on-one thing” — helping a senior and recognizing a veteran who fought for the freedom we cherish.

Happy Memorial Day!

You’re One of US?

I work in an office as a professional, with many other professionals who specialize in various fields. I contribute to the overall positive and beneficial outcomes of what my employer provides to serve the public and the United States of America (insert wave of US Flag).

There are thousands of professionals employed where I work. On the floor of the large office building where I have my desk, I’d say there are some 50 – 60 people, and many of them are men. Most are around my age.

Within any group of men, inevitably, some are gay. There’s a guy whose desk is down the hall from mine, and my gaydar told me that he was gay. My belief that he was gay was confirmed from some of his posts on a social network on which we have become connected.

He’s not in my work group, so I do not interact with him that much. However, on Monday at a monthly birthday celebration (where the staff gets together for an afternoon break to have cake and wish happy birthday to whomever has a birthday that month), another colleague asked me what I was doing for Memorial Day weekend. You know, just chit-chat. I said that I was going to visit my mother-in-law, and wasn’t looking forward to it.

My colleague said, “I thought you were gay.” Instead of reacting strongly (that is, becoming angry at the implication that just because I am gay doesn’t mean that I cannot have a mother-in-law), I replied, “I have a partner, and consider his mother my mother-in-law.” My colleague said, “oh, okay. Well, I’m sorry that you’re not looking forward to your visit with her. I hope things work out okay.” No reaction of surprise or shock. He was growing accustomed to learning more about a colleague who happens to be gay and he just learned how I refer to my partner and his mother.

That other guy (the gay guy to whom I referred above) overheard us. With shock in his voice and some giddy excitement, and in a rather high pitch, he exclaimed, “you’re one of US?” (emphasis added.) I asked, “what do you mean?” (knowing full well what he meant.)

He said, “I had no idea you were gay.” I said, “I don’t wave a flag, if that’s what you mean. I’m just a regular guy who is in a stable, monogamous relationship with another guy.” I think this guy was shocked because I do not have mannerisms that others expect gay men to have. I dunno — nothing to be said here about stereotypes; I’ve said that enough. I’m just a guy. A masculine guy who happens to be gay.

He asked me, “do you and your partner go to (such-and-such location) monthly gatherings in (local town, but not DC)?” Answer: “No. I turn into a pumpkin at 9pm; can’t handle the hours.”

He asked, “will you be going to the (performance of a gay icon singer)?” Apparently, this performance has been talked up a lot among the local LGBT community. I had no idea. I replied, “nope. I don’t like her so-called singing.”

The guy didn’t know what to do with me, but couldn’t pursue it further at the time (in that setting) as other people were around and the chit-chat changed course. I returned to my office and got engaged in what I do for a living. Soon enough, I forgot about it… but my “new friend” didn’t.

All week this week, he’s been sending me email, inviting me to the LGBT group at the office, to help staff the table representing the agency at the Gay Pride day in Washington, DC, and to attend a social gathering among LGBT staff at the agency — an after-work happy hour at a local pub.


I don’t want to be mean, but I’m not interested. It has nothing to do with living in a closet — I don’t. I’m “out” to those who know me, and don’t hide my sexual orientation. But I don’t wave it around, either. I am who I am. Look at it this way, guys who are straight don’t put up flags or stickers that extoll “straightness.” I feel the opposite is true in my case. We’re all here together, gay or straight.

I finally went over to the guy’s office yesterday and explained that I am not interested in becoming involved in LGBT activities at work for several reasons.

First, I am in a relationship that to me is the same as a marriage. I don’t go out by myself to socialize (except with my family), and my partner hates social activities so he won’t join me anyway. Ain’t gonna happen.

This took my colleague by surprise. I honestly think that we are the first gay couple he has learned about who do not socialize, at all. His reaction was both funny and one of shock. He couldn’t believe it. But his only experience with other couples are those he meets at social events — so he only knows socializers. (That is, he doesn’t know the people he doesn’t meet because they choose not to socialize.)

Second, my “after work” is two hours earlier than the time the group gets together, and honestly, I have no interest in hanging around the office for two hours longer than I have to. I have other things to do (like mow the lawn, run errands, do some quick visits with senior pals, and prepare a home-cooked meal to serve promptly at 6:15pm as I always do every evening since we never dine out.)

Third, I can’t stand (such-and-such performer). Seriously. Can’t stand her. My choice. But no way am I going to go see some performance in which she is involved. No way. Yuck. (sorry, I am deliberately being circumspect because if I published her name on this blog, then it would drive visits to this post from internet searches on her name, and this post is not about her, and I don’t want comments related to that.)

Fourth, one of my family members has a graduation party on the day of DC Gay Pride, and when faced with a choice to be with the family I love vis-a-vis standing at a table in the hot sun on hot pavement around a bunch of people in shorts and flip-flops — sorry, the choice is clear. I’ll be in boots and jeans flippin’ burgers on the grill and celebrating the achievement of one of my great nephews. My partner will probably be relaxing in our backyard park, as he loves to do on warm weekend afternoons.

Anyway, I don’t have to explain, but I thought for purposes of this blog, I would describe this interaction and affirm that not all gay guys are the same. Some of us enjoy more social activities, and some don’t.

Life is short: be who you are, and do what you want to do.

Note: this post will remain up for a few days. While others are enjoying Memorial Day weekend, perhaps in Chicago at “International Mr. Leather” or on a big motorcycle event held in DC or whatever… my partner and I will be in ” ‘da burgh,” doing whatever we need to do for his mother. I will resume blogging when we get back and my life returns to normal and is less hectic because, thank goodness, May will be over! Have a nice weekend, and a safe holiday. See you next month!

Discussions On This Blog

I received an email from a reader of this blog, where one of my previous posts prompted him to share some thoughts about a situation that he was dealing with.  That’s a different story, and will remain private.  However, what he closed with is something I want to discuss for a bit:  “… thank you for your willingness to publicly discuss personal matters/issues on your blog.  I do feel that by writing about your own personal experiences, you have dispelled some gay myths and made ‘gays’ to be normal.”

Wow, thanks man. As I have said before, I never really know who I touch with what falls out of my head.

I know this is not the ordinary “gay man’s blog.” I wonder sometimes what IS an “ordinary gay man” but that’s another issue.

I consider myself an ordinary guy; a regular Joe; a neighbor, friend, colleague, biker… whatever labels like that one may wish to apply.

I read some other blogs written by gay men. Those blogs have many more public followers than this one. A low number of public followers on a mature blog used to bother me a lot. I would ask myself, “what are they looking for?” or “what do other gay bloggers blog about that attract more public followers?”

As I analyzed it some more, I realized several things.

First, this is MY blog, where I express my thoughts, feelings, ideas, oddball humor (or lack thereof), likes, dislikes, interests, avocations, and such. I am not writing “for” anyone but myself. I do appreciate that others are interested in what I have to say. Ultimately, though, the blogging experience is a catharsis of sorts for me, and is a way for me to get things off my chest, or describe some knowledge, or express ideas (within limits.)

Second, some gay men’s blogs with many followers write a lot about politics. I choose to avoid that here because everyone has different opinions and I do not want this blog to turn in to a venting post for the masses. I respect that everyone has opinions, and I know that I may disagree with some of them. But I’ll fight for the right for people to express their own ideas, as long as they don’t hurt anyone. However, I do not want this blog to become an exchange of rants, which so often happens on blog posts that are political in nature.

Third, some gay men’s blogs with many followers represent a huge gay social circle that the blog writer has developed. The writers receive many comments to posts, and often the comments include witty remarks and humor.

I do not have a huge gay social circle. Honestly, (chalk it up to living with the world’s #1 recluse) I don’t have much of a social circle at all, because I do not go out to socialize (such as to a restaurant, bar, club, or to friends’ homes) and I have lost all interest in attending gay events such as MAL or IML. I get my “social jollies” (that is, fulfill my “need for human interaction,”) through other methods, like helping my senior pals, participating in community meetings, going to tons of family get-togethers, and riding with my motorcycle club from time to time.

Fourth, WYSIWYG. Read on.

Back to the comment that I received via email, I affirm that what I choose to write about is reflective of a personal life that is stable, solid, active, and totally integrated with the wider community in which I work and live. I am not “the gay neighbor”; I am “the civic organization president.” I am not “that gay guy with an electrician’s license”; I am “that nice young man who can fix this for me.” I am not “that gay biker with all that leather”; I am an appointed officer in the club who enjoys, like everyone else, riding his motorcycle while geared properly. Finally, I am not “the gay family member”; I am a brother, uncle, cousin, nephew.

I got over worrying about how many public followers this blog has when I looked at my data logs and realized that I have many more readers who choose to remain anonymous. Now that this blog has matured, I am seeing about 500 – 600 unique visitors each day from all over the world. Okay, most of them choose to remain silent; I can live with that. Heck, I read a lot of blogs, too, and there are very few that I follow publicly — so “I get it.” No biggie.

I also realize that some readers are still wrestling with their own sexual identity, and part of their struggle lands them on this blog from time to time as they seek information about what gay men are like — particularly masculine gay men who don’t… well… act and behave “gay” (i.e., whatever stereotypical behaviors you want to apply, but for me, one of those stereotypes is that I am not effeminate.)

Summarizing point: I am a regular guy. I have activities that I like to do. I have clothing and footwear that I like to wear (and some clothing and footwear that I don’t.) I am head over bootheels in love with one man. So what?

Follow me or not, WYSIWYG.

For visitors who do not know what “WYSIWYG” means: “What you see is what you get.” It is a commonly-used acronym with many computer software applications, but equally applies in this case.

Not Going To The Prom Means You’re Gay?

Last of a series of posts about my 14-year-old Great Nephew (who is young for being a junior in high school. This kid is smart!) I invited him to dinner at our home last night and made my partner act on his best behavior. (giggle.)

I also invited a senior pal to join us. She was a professional school counselor before she retired a few years ago. I invited my senior pal for two reasons: 1) I value her advice; and 2) though I love my Great Nephew and his parents trust us, I am not going to be in a position of having two adult gay men alone with a minor. Even if we are related — it’s still a major concern. (I wish I didn’t have to worry like that, but I have read far too many horror stories.)

Over burgers and grilled veggies, we discussed what was going on. I had another “ah-ha” moment when my Great Nephew told me that about two months ago, several (male) classmates asked him who he was going to take to the prom. My Great Nephew didn’t want to go to the prom because (gosh, he is SO MUCH like me) he doesn’t like to dance, he doesn’t like to dress up, and he didn’t want to go through all the formalities dictated by tradition (rent a tux, limo to girl’s house, frivolity over pictures, limo to dinner, dance, limo to after-dance event, then home. Yuck.)

Because my GN told his classmates that he didn’t want to go, the taunts about him being gay started again. First it was not getting a spot on the community baseball team, then it was not wanting to go to the prom. The verbal bullying was rampant and getting worse. No wonder my GN was so upset!

I told my GN my story about my prom experience. Like him, I didn’t want to go to the prom. However, I was class President and couldn’t avoid it. But what I did was something that became “classic me.” I asked a female friend who I knew did not like to dance to be my “date.” We dressed in Hawaiian flowered shirts (and I got her a lei from a florist to match); I wore a pair of white jeans with a pair of light-colored Frye boots. While everyone else went through (the torture of) the pre-prom shenanigans, my friend and I enjoyed a casual dinner at a favorite restaurant. Then we showed up at the prom dressed as we were. I gave a short pep-speech as was expected, then we left. My friend and I drove to the beach and stayed at my sister’s condo. We had a great weekend playing on the beach with my nieces and nephews. (Funny… it is this same branch of the family that is involved — a niece who was among those that my friend and I played with during our post-prom beach visit is this Great Nephew’s mother.)

The reactions to our dress and behavior were (mostly) amusement. As I said, my mother (who was the only one of my parents alive at the time I was in high school) did not question or judge. She let me be me. My twin brother did the whole prom bit — tux, limo, dinner, dance, after-dinner party, etc. I did something unique to me and my quirky personality. Mom let us decided. She told me later that she didn’t think it would work, and that I might have learned a hard lesson. But that’s how she raised us: let us try and sometimes fail, and learn from our experiences.

I was not the subject of ridicule about the prom when I was in school. I attended it, and took a girl. We decided, however, to enjoy it in a unique way that was fun for both of us. In fact, this female friend of mine and I enjoy a close friendship to this day. You should have seen some of our exchanges on [another social network] over the last few weeks about “our prom” and reminiscing about it. It was a hoot!

Most of the other guys in my class thought I was strange, but they gave me kudos for doing something so unique and fun. Most of them laughed along with me. Those who did not understand pretty much left me alone. They found what I did so unusual that it left them speechless (either that, or they were jealous and were secretly wishing that they had done the same thing!) Those who knew me better thought that I was courageous and complimented me.

In retrospect, what made this work for me is that my parents always taught us to be ourselves, and to have the courage of our convictions (even if we were wrong.) I knew that if my scheme blew up and I made a big mess of things, that my family would back me up regardless. They always were, and always are, my “rocks.”

Back to my Great Nephew — prom this year has passed for him, but perhaps he has some ideas about how to cope with it next year. Find out how to “be” himself, and stand up and do it. I’ll be there cheering him on, supporting him all the way. My senior pal friend also provided some good suggestions about how to be more confident in being “himself,” and “not a lemming.”

If he doesn’t want to go to his prom next year, perhaps he can find alternate things to do, that he enjoys. Sure, Mom and Dad enjoy the ritual of traditions, but perhaps he can teach them some new “traditions” to enjoy.

Life is short: find ways to enjoy challenges in new ways!

Why Don’t You Be More Like

It is every child’s fear to be compared with an older sibling… or at least I felt that way. With 13 older brothers and sisters, it would have been easy for my parents to suggest that I behave in ways that other siblings were behaving, or be athletic like some of them, or studious like some others, or enjoy dancing like some others, etc.

I realize now, in my older age, just how very fortunate I was not to have that happen as I was growing up. My parents treated all of us as individuals, with separate skills, interests, preferences, likes, and dislikes. While I have a twin brother, even the two of us were not compared with one another by our parents. Same was true for the other multiples (twins and triplets) in my family.

I think, though, that comparisons are happening with my Great Nephew, about whom I blogged yesterday. He has two older brothers who are graceful, skilled, and athletic. One of his brothers helped his school win a championship in football, while another did exceptionally well in a community baseball league.

I had another long conversation with my Great Nephew last night, and he told me that it was okay to say this: he hates being compared with his older brothers. He tried out for the community baseball league, and couldn’t make the team. He had not practiced or played very much, and had not developed adequate skills. Further, his heart wasn’t in it. He just didn’t like baseball, or sports in general.

I could relate to that. We both are not interested in sports. We both feel as if we are not athletically inclined. And we both resent being compared with others who are better skilled in certain activities that parents favor. His Dad didn’t favor his son taking an interest in musical performance.

Even these days, where supposedly Dads are “enlightened,” I could sense that it was not the case. Dad would have preferred that his youngest son “follow the footsteps” of his older, athletic, brothers. There’s a reason for that… Dad grew up in a certain area of the country whose residents are very outspoken about males taking on stereotypical male roles, and should a male take on a role like singing a lead in a musical, then they say stupid things to belittle the behavior, and apply labels related to homosexuality. So sad….

My Great Nephew could be gay — or not — and using indicators from things he likes to do (or not do) should not be aligned with sexual orientation. Just because he can sing and play various instruments doesn’t mean that he is gay; just because he is not athletically talented and doesn’t like to play ball doesn’t mean he’s gay, either. But so what?  If he is gay, he will need all the support he can get from the two people who mean the most to him in his life: his parents.

I put his parents in touch with some professionals who know how to explain all these differences and help the parents understand how to nurture and appreciate differences in their children and bring out in them what they can do best, each as individuals, with talents, skills, and abilities that are not all the same.

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

He May Be Gay

I dropped over to visit a member of The Family yesterday. Her son was having his 14th birthday. I brought a card and gave him a hug; then he broke down and cried without warning.

He ran out of the room and I was left standing there shocked and dismayed. His mother came over to me and said, “let’s talk.”

She took me into another room, and said, “I think he may be gay. Will you talk to him?”

I was a bit dumbstruck. I hadn’t seen this particular Great Nephew in a long time; since Christmas. He leads a typical teenager’s life: busy with school and I thought, with friends and activities. His Mom said that in the last several months, he had become withdrawn, sullen, and emotional. She said that as far as she could tell, nothing was going on. His grades remained good in school, though they dropped a bit in the final marking period. He wasn’t complaining about anyone or anything in particular. She even took him to his doctor for a checkup, which was fine.

She said, however, that his Dad had encouraged him to try out for a community baseball team, as he wasn’t “good enough” to try out for the team at school. Dad took him to the tryouts, and watched his son fail miserably — and was not all that supportive.

Since then, their son had withdrawn. He stopped going to any after-school events, or even try out for the school Spring musical in which he performed last year (quite well, actually. I was impressed.)

I tried asking his Dad what he thought was going on, and got the typical, “he’s a teenager and is going through the typical emotional trials that teens go through” and shrugged it off.

I asked to speak with their son, and they both said, “sure, go ahead. Perhaps you can help. We don’t know what to do.”

I found my Great Nephew in his room, absorbed in a video game. I asked if we could talk, and he said, “sure,” but didn’t turn the game off. I asked him to do that. He shot me a look, but complied.

I asked, simply, “what’s going on?”

My Great Nephew said, “nothing.”

I continued to probe, gently, but wasn’t getting anywhere. Lots of “nothings” and “not much” and “I’m okay” denials.

I decided to explain a little bit about my life when I was his age. I felt alone and isolated, even though I have 14 siblings and thought I had a lot of friends. But I couldn’t hit a baseball if it were tied to a bat; I couldn’t catch a ball if it were dropped into my hands. I couldn’t run; I would trip over my own feet. I would run in fear if a dance at school were held, but that wasn’t because I didn’t like girls — it was because I hated dancing (I still do) — anything having to do with coordinated movement. I couldn’t then, nor today, be coordinated about anything.

Apparently, I said something, and he began to open up. Out of respect for my Great Nephew, I will not describe what he said. Let’s just say that we began a dialogue, and discovered how closely we truly are related. Man, there are so many similarities between him and me (at his age).

He asked me the $10M question: “when did you know you were gay?”

I explained that I didn’t really know that much about my sexuality and didn’t think about it until much later — in my 20s. I know, though, that different males discover their sexual identity and sexuality at different ages.

But I did ask him why he asked me that question. The response was what I had figured, that other people were calling him names, including “fag,” “homo,” “queer,” and were making gestures that imply homosexuality. So my nephew’s feelings and emotions right now are being driven by a form of bullying. That’s why, I discovered, that he deleted his Facebook account. He said that he was being taunted on there. Enough was enough, and he dropped off Facebook because he didn’t want his friends to see the taunts that others were posting. (Actually, I think that was a good idea. There are far too many horror stories about Facebook and cyber-bullying that has led to suicide.)

I’m not this child’s father. I am not a trained analyst. I’m just a Great Uncle, but who is the only gay man this child knows (that I am aware of.) I live a stable life with my partner, enjoy activities that I can do, like motorcycling. I walk as my form of exercise — not play sports. I get out and get involved with community activities of the more professional sort — leadership, civic service, and such.

As I said, we began a dialogue. I hope I can lead his parents into finding out more and learning ways to help their son. After all, he is their child, and they need to take the lead to help him.

For more in this series, see these related posts:

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

Riding in Honor and Memory

This time, I did a motorcycle ride to ride in honor and memory for something that hit close-to-home.  A good friend & riding buddy and his wife lost their son a year ago in a crash caused by a drunk driver.

This friend’s son was quite a guy. Not quite 20 when he died, he had done a lot in his relatively short life, and made his parents proud. I would see him from time to time on group motorcycle rides. He wasn’t too proud to ride as a passenger with his Dad. It was awful that he died so young, and the death of their oldest child was a rotten for my friends to have to deal with. No parent should outlive a child.

My biker bud held a memorial motorcycle ride on Saturday. The weather was stunning. Beautiful, warm, sunny skies and (finally) dry roads. We rode through some back roads that I didn’t know existed, and some others that I had been on before, but by mistake (when I got lost. I always get lost when I try to go anywhere.)

There were about 40 bikes on this ride. It was great. We ended up at an amusement park. Though I wanted to stay and play, I couldn’t. You-know-who’s task list remained a mile long. So after some hugs and handshakes, I revved up the Harley and headed home … and spent seven hours doing that oh-so-lovely yard work and gardening of May.

Life is short: honor memories of friends.

Natural Visitor

Planting the annuals for the gardens is complete! Whoo-ee! Within the past few days, we also planted 31 tomato plants in planters on one of our decks. We started the tomatoes from seed in March, and grew them indoors (actually, a specially lit area built into one side of the room that I use for my basement boot closet. It’s a multifunctional space!) Hopefully, we will have a bountiful harvest come July. We keep the tomatoes and other vegetables in special planters on a deck, instead of a garden, so the deer and bunnies don’t get them before we do.

We put annuals in planters that we hang from our decks, as well. No sooner had we done that, then Mrs. Dodo Bird (mourning dove, but they’re not the brightest bulbs on the planet, so I call them “dodo birds”) dropped in some twigs and laid two eggs. She is keeping a careful eye on us from the nest. Thus is life with nature in suburbia.

Life is short: smile with relief when the myriad of planting activities that always happen this time of year are (almost) done!

Slow Return

A few rambles, as I slowly return to blogging.

Life has been busy-nuts, but that is traditional May.

Partner has been incredibly hyper, and with rain each day this past week, it hasn’t helped matters much. Rain both exacerbates his chronic pain as well as his frenzy for yard work that can’t be done.

I was able to use the Fred Flintstone lawn mower yesterday between downpours to scythe through the grass that began to eat small pets and children, it was so high.

I haven’t ridden my Harley all week due to the rain. Friggin’ feelings of confinement again in a cage (what us bikers call a four-wheel vehicle.)

New boss at work has rescinded permission to telework, so now I’m doing the regular 5am to 3pm at the office … Oh well, I really should not complain, because it’s the best commute I have had, with free indoor motorcycle parking as well. 20 minutes to get there, and about 30 to get home (due to heavier volume once the rest of the world is awake.)

Life in a cube farm is such joy. Thank goodness for Bose noise-cancelling headphones. While I have a fairly high-ranking position, I am but a lowly serf as a newbie, so I look at it this way: at least I have a real desk and office space with two computers and other facilities that I need. However, I have to say that my home office is better equipped. It’s common that I have to do some things at home for work because restrictions on resources (such as not being able to download, install, and use certain software. Doing that isn’t permitted and is blocked.) If I had to explain further, I’d have to shoot you, and that would be awfully messy.

I did have an interesting opportunity to brief a visiting delegation from China about content related to my profession at the headquarters of my professional association yesterday. That was very interesting, and is one reason why I remain so active with that association. Lots of opportunities for learning and professional development, networking, and sharing.

This coming weekend will be incredibly busy. Partner has a list in his mind of “gotta-do’s” that I can only imagine. I still can’t read his mind. I will, however, take a brief respite for an early morning motorcycle ride on Saturday morning that has been organized as a memorial for a friend’s son who was killed tragically a year ago by a drunk driver.

I also had a wonderful experience in meeting a family whose mother I touched through service years ago. Their Mom died last week, and left a substantial bequest to support future work on the “seniors safety” projects that I do. I didn’t really know their Mom that well, but she was one of the early-on benefactors of our work to provide better lighting, grab bars, smoke alarms, CO detectors, and other safety features. She thought so highly of our voluntary efforts that she left money in her will for our work. So now I’m setting up a non-profit foundation to receive the money and disburse it. Gotta love the bureaucratic processes required to make that happen.

Otherwise, as I always say: life is short — keep living! Be nice, be good, have fun, wear boots, and always, always, SMILE!

Best wishes,


Lunch with a Boot Buddy

I am still taking a break from blogging for a little while, but I wanted to post a picture that I took yesterday when my friend Clockner, also known on YouTube as Bootedman, came to the DC area for a visit. He is also a fellow blogger.

We met for a very pleasant lunch in the downtown of my home town in Maryland, close to where my office is located.

He is wearing brown Justin square-toe buckaroo boots with red uppers. He says they are about the most comfortable boots he has worn. I am wearing a pair of brown Lucchese wingtip cowboy boots with dark brown inlays. They are also very comfortable.

It’s nice to catch up with friends. I appreciate that my friend came to visit for a nice annual lunch.