What I Did On My Summer Staycation

One might remember that the first writing assignment upon return to school was an essay describing, “what I did on my summer vacation.” Back when I was in school, I could describe riding in a car with my family going cross-country, and over a six-year period, we stopped in every state in the contiguous United States. It was mandatory to stop in the state’s capital, but we also would see whatever sights there were to see while in that state (for example, we spent three weeks in California alone.)

These days, I do not travel for vacation any more. My partner is unable to sit in an airplane for any length of time due to his disability (not the brain surgery, but his chronic hip condition which is inoperable). I can’t stand being cooped up in a car for more than a few hours. I just go crazy. And regretfully, I have a chronic health condition that makes it difficult for me to ride my Harley more than a few hundred miles each day. Altogether, I have found that it’s easier to stay home. (It’s cheaper that way, too.)

I had the last week off from work — my first time off since I started the new job. I began my “staycation” on Friday the 12th on a high note, by going on a motorcycle ride with some friends on a lovely day. We had a great time, and didn’t get lost.

Frankly, I forgot what I did on the weekend… usual activities in caring for my senior pals, repairing or installing things for them in their homes, taking them grocery shopping, and spending time with my partner and my brother (and his wife) who are visiting.

I got busy on Monday the 15th with work in our yard, repairing a garden wall that had been damaged by the freeze-thaw cycle over some harsh winters. I got very tired of being stung by yellow jackets (bees/wasps) that had built a nest in the soil of that garden.

Tuesday was my birthday. It began brightly with a warm snuggle with my partner who had taken the day off. I was “kidnapped” by five senior pals and taken to breakfast. That was fun. Then my brother, his wife, and I went to visit a niece who had delivered twin boys three weeks earlier. It was great to meet our Great Nephews.

Late that afternoon, my partner bought a bushel of Maryland steamed crabs fresh from the Chesapeake Bay. We picked crabs for hours. This is my favorite meal, and is easy for my partner to “prepare.” My brother and his wife enjoyed it, as well, though I think my sister-in-law grew tired of crab-picking after the first two. It does take patience — and we kept telling her that it’s really not the crabs, but the social experience of crab-picking that makes it so much fun.

Wednesday, I brought my partner to a world-class hospital where he had his non-cancerous brain tumor “resolved.” He was released later that evening. I spent Thursday and Friday by his side as he recovered. He recovered very quickly and well.

Saturday was promising to be a gorgeous day, so I brought my brother to a Harley dealership up north of us to rent a Harley for a day. He rented one like the one that I have, and we rode together for about 150 miles, stopping for lunch and gas and stretch breaks. We didn’t know where we were going, but we had a great time riding together. His wife, by the way, was picked up by one of our sisters to go do girly things (like shopping.) I had a senior pal who my partner likes very much stay the day with him, just in case he needed anything and to make me feel less guilty leaving him alone so soon after surgery while going to ride motorcycles with my brother.

Sunday, yesterday, was sort of a wash-out. We awoke to the sounds of a thunderstorm and heavy rain. I was dismayed, because my brother and I were supposed to return that rental motorcycle before 10am to avoid another day’s rental fee. Fortunately, the rain stopped and the pavement dried, so my brother and I could return the rental Harley, and then I could take him back home. And yes, he rode as my passenger on my Harley — two guys on a Harley. No.big.deal. (Though some nutcase at the Harley rental shop had to make a homophobic wisecrack. My brother said something to him and shut him up. I detest narrow-minded ding-dongs who think that they always have to say something… stupid.)

As soon as my brother and I got home, my sister-in-law had prepared lunch for all of us. I parked my Harley in the garage and then the storm warnings began to sound again on my alert systems at home, and soon enough, it was raining hard again.

After lunch, my brother and sister-in-law took my truck and left to visit more family, while my partner and I sat in our basement and watched a movie together.

Back to work today (Monday).

Kinda boring, rather bland, but this is what I did on my Staycation. No more time off again until Christmas. It’s great that I love my job, though, because it makes work something that I look forward to doing (and using my Harley to get there.)

Life is short: keep busy, share joy, and show those you love that you love them.

Missed Dore Alley Because of Poppers

This is a message that I received from a guy who tried to travel on a commercial airline within the United States and carry poppers (Isopropyl Nitrite) in his checked luggage. He gave me permission to reproduce this message on my blog:

Hey BHD,

I found your guide to traveling with leather fetish gear when I was looking for information about whether I can bring poppers [ed.: Isopropyl Nitrate] with me on a flight when I was going to Dore Alley in San Francisco. [ed.: a gay fetish event called the “Up Your Alley Fair” and usually referred to as “Dore Alley”. It was held July 31, 2011.]

You said that people shouldn’t bring poppers with them in either checked luggage or a carry-on. You said that drug-sniffing equipment or dogs are used at airports to detect chemicals in luggage.

I found other information on the internet where guys were suggesting ways that you could carry poppers in your luggage if you sealed them tightly in a plastic bag, and used wax to cover the bottle. I didn’t want to believe you. A few other websites said that the chances of the poppers being caught are remote, because they can’t possibly check every suitcase — especially at a small airport where my flight was leaving from.

I sealed up a small bottle of poppers, buried it in a sweaty gym sock, and put it in a pair of sneakers inside my suitcase. When I got to my airport, I checked the suitcase and went through security to wait for my flight. So far, so good.

I was waiting for my flight at the airport when a guy from the TSA came to the gate and the agent called my name. I went up to the desk and asked what was going on. The TSA guy asked me to go with him.

We went into a room and a sheriff deputy was there. He pointed to my suitcase and asked, “is that yours?” I said to myself — oh shit! Why is my suitcase here???

I told the deputy “yes.” He asked me for ID. I pulled out my driver’s license. He then said, “what’s this?” and held up my bottle of poppers.

I told him that it was video head cleaning fluid. He asked me where my VCR was. He knew what it was. Oh shit! He told me that poppers are illegal, and that I was attempting to carry an illegal substance that is not allowed to be carried on an airplane.

I was taken to the sheriff station and asked a lot of questions. I was given a citation, and then released hours later.

I called a friend to pick me up. While I was waiting for my friend to come get me, I called the airline to rearrange the flight that I missed. The airline told me that because it was my fault that I missed my flight, I would have to buy another ticket to San Francisco for $750 more, and the next available flight was 2 days later. I told them to forget it.

When my friend arrived to get me, I asked him to take me back to the airport so I could get my car and then I drove home. Never made it to Dore Alley.

Now I will have a police record and have to pay a fine. I just got a new job, too, and I’m afraid if they find out about it, I’ll be shit-canned. They have fired people who have drug offenses on their record. Shit! All for a little bottle of poppers. Shit!

I’ve learned my lesson. I hope other guys do, too. Don’t try to travel with that stuff. Hell, if you really want it, you can buy it when you get where you’re going. But don’t try to bring it with you!

Man, I’m sorry this happened, and I appreciate your candor in describing what happened. I am rather conservative and don’t use drugs, but I know (unfortunately) that there are many gay men who do — especially drugs in the “gray area” of legality like poppers. I hope this matter doesn’t affect your employment. Good luck.

The "Twin Thing" in Boots

I have commented fairly often that my twin brother and I share an indescribable bond. We know what the other is thinking, what he likes, what he dislikes, what he will say before he says it. It’s eerie sometimes — not to us, but to those who love us, who observe us speaking in shorthand and finishing each other’s sentences. I’m not saying it’s 100%, but it’s darn close!

We are not identical twins. We are physically and emotionally different men. But rather than tick off a comparison of our similarities and differences, let me share a funny thing that this “twin thing” did with boots.

I blogged on August 7 that my brother bought me a very good-looking, classy, and comfortable pair of black Lucchese Classic Goatskin cowboy boots. I wore them with a suit to his retirement reception, and plan to wear them when dressing up is required (which for me, fortunately, is not often.)

What I did not describe is that the day before he gave me these boots as a gift, I had ordered an identical pair in dark brown. I was looking at them in black, but my size wasn’t available and would have been back-ordered until November. The dark brown version were immediately available — one pair left in my size, at a really good price considering the quality of these hand-made, American-made beauties.

I ordered the brown version and they arrived a week ago. (More photos of them here). Again: identical in almost every respect except for the color and the toe style. My brother got me boots with a pointed toe (which I prefer) and my brown boots came with a narrow-rounded toe.

Okay, so I knew the boots that I ordered were in process when my brother gave me his gift. I thought that I didn’t need to spend the money since I had received the same style of boots already. I went on-line and tried to cancel the order, but it was too late. The boots had been shipped. Yeah, I could have gone through the process of a return, but decided not to do that. I will wear these boots on dressy occasions, too. Heck, I will wear both pairs during winter months when I cannot ride my Harley to work and have to commute in my truck. (I will not wear boots with smooth leather soles when I ride my motorcycle, as smooth soles provide no traction.)

I assure you, my brother and I did not talk about this particular brand or style of boots before each of us ordered them separately. My brother arranged for his order to be shipped to a sibling’s house so he could keep them as a surprise and have a chance to wrap the box. I didn’t tell my brother that I was looking at this style of boots, either, nor did I tell him that I ordered them.

Imagine the surprise that my partner and my sister-in-law expressed when they discovered that both pairs of boots were ordered by each of us separately — same maker, same quality, same style. Weird (to them.) Natural (to us.)

Life is short: enjoy quality boots!

Medical Wonders

Sometimes I feel as if we are living in the future that was projected when we watched Star Trek as a kid. By that, I mean that my partner’s surgery and subsequent recovery has been nothing short of amazing.

On Wednesday of this week, I brought my partner to one of the world’s leading teaching hospitals and had his brain tumor “resolved” by an outstanding neurosurgeon.

Using a laser knife, the doctor cut and cauterized the blood vessels that fed the tumor, but did not actually remove it. Because it is not cancerous, it does not have to be removed. It will shrivel and be absorbed.

I brought my partner home on the same night as his surgery, as he didn’t have any complications or need to be admitted to the hospital. And you know, that’s amazing. Imagine — having brain surgery in the morning and being released on the same day!

Yesterday, my partner awoke with a huge smile and tears of joy. He told me that it was the first night in over six months that he slept the entire night without the tinnitus caused by the brain tumor keeping him awake. Later in the day, he rose, got dressed, and read several chapters in a book. He ate well, and even watched some TV. He has no pain anywhere; in fact, my partner refused a prescription for a pain killer. He didn’t need it.

The only down-side to all of this is that he has become deaf in his left ear, but each doctor consulted through this ordeal told us to expect that.

We anticipate that the neurosurgeon will clear my partner to return to regular function when we see him on Monday of next week when the follow-up appointment is scheduled.

Be thankful for employer-provided health insurance, and that you can get the correct care at a very highly-qualified place if you know what to ask for and how to advocate. I thank my lovely aunt who passed away in January for giving me the “advocacy skills” with insurance companies. It is possible to get what you want, but you have to know how to ask for it.

Life is short: get the best care you can.

I’m In Love

Presenting the newest additions to my family, my twin Great Nephews. They are 22 days old in this photo. My brother and I enjoyed hours of cuddling and bonding with them on our birthday, August 16. Best birthday present ever. Ever!

I love and enjoy all of my family, from my nieces and nephews flung far and wide, to their children, my “greats,” who range in age from 22 days to 18 years — about the same age range between the youngest of my siblings (my twin brother) and our oldest sibling, who happens to be the grandfather of these two boys.

I’m in love, all over again. I think I can speak for my brother, too: the look in his eyes matched mine when we were cuddling these little guys — bliss, peace, and love. (Sorry, no photos of him. He retains internet anonymity).

We have much to share about twinship, but the most important lesson is how to raise twins as independent and different people. Our parents helped each of us achieve our best by nurturing our various talents and supporting our different interests. They established a firm foundation — truly, it was love at the base of our bond, from which great things emerged.

Funny, at age 22 days, these boys haven’t discovered that each other exist yet, but when one fusses, the other does. Such is the start of “that twin thing.” One knows when the other is happy, distressed, hungry, poopy, or sleepy. Their cycles are almost identical, even though they don’t know that they are communicating through a bond that cannot be described. It’s just there. My twin brother and I know how each other feel every minute of every day despite vast geographic distances or even when he’s just down the hall in the guest room. We know.

Life is short: cuddle with those you love, and fall in love all over again. (And being the Uncle-ing sort, when they get poopy, hand ’em over to their Mom! LOL!)

Diverted

My usual happy-peppy-booted-and-leathered blog posts have been temporarily replaced today. As you read this, my partner is having a non-malignant brain tumor removed. He is at one of the world’s best facilities to have this procedure done, right here in our home state.

The doc said that it should be a simple and quick procedure, and will not require cutting bone or muscle tissue since he can access the tumor through the back of the neck. But it still is brain surgery… a very frightening thought.

Your well-wishes, thoughts, and prayers will be appreciated for my best half. I’ll post more later this week about how it went.

In the meantime, I have about a week’s worth of blog posts that will appear each day until I have time to get back to blogging. I am focusing on caring for the one I love.

As I often say: life is short — show those you love that you love them.

10:30am Update: writing from a computer in the hospital waiting room. Surgery is done, and was successful. Very tiny incision used to insert a laser knife. Blood vessels feeding the tumor were cut and cauterized. The tumor was not removed. Because it is non-malignant, it will shrink and be absorbed.

My partner looked okay, but obviously is groggy while still recovering from the anesthesia. But the best news — he nodded yes when the doc asked him, “is the ringing in your ears gone?” Yippie!

Headed back into the recovery room to hold his hand.

Happy Birthday to My Best Friend!

Today is the birthday of my very best friend in the whole wide world: my twin brother. Yep, he turns another year older four minutes after I do! (LOL!)

He is wise, wonderful, athletically talented, smart, funny, and a warm & caring man. He is the best husband his wife could ever have; the best uncle and Great uncle the kiddos could ever have; and is the bestest twin that a brother could ever have!

I could pour out my heart with accolades, but I would probably suffer direct repercussions because he is staying with my partner and me this month. I fear a bonk on the noggin, or worse (giggle.)

Let me suffice to say that I am thrilled to have my twin as my best friend, my partner as my best half, and a family who loves us, cares for us, and helps us be the best men we can be. (Thanks, Mom and Dad! You led and taught us well!)

Happy birthday, bro’! I look forward to spending the day with you, and the crabfeast for dinner tonight!

My Birthday Wish List: PDA

My birthday is tomorrow. I am following great leadership of a friend who published an inspiring birthday wish-list on Facebook. Here’s mine — please take a few minutes to read, and then act.


As one gets older, the desire for material goods is replaced by the desire for PDAs — and not what you think. I’m not into toys. I seek Personal Displays of Affection. Not for me, but for others.

These PDAs may be demonstrated by:

  • Visiting or calling a parent, grandparent, or other senior and listening. So many people talk-talk-talk, but we have much to learn if we shut up and listen to the wiser generation. Spend an hour listening and you will be amazed how good both of you feel.
  • Sharing your talents with others. Help with housecleaning, home repairs, mowing the lawn, taking folks grocery shopping, making a home-made meal, and just spending time with people who won’t ask for help, but who will benefit (and this applies to people of all ages.)
  • Making regular phone calls to house-bound family and friends. Your smile on the phone may be the only sunshine heard today. I truly wish for a reduction in the lonliness that seniors experience as they age and become less important in American’s lives. (Our culture has much to learn from Asia.)
  • turning off the computer, TV, and the gadget-du-juor (Blackberry, iPhone, etc.) Reach out and hold the hand of the one you love. Experience serenity without technological distractions. Do this for me. You will be surprised how delightful, energizing, and empowering this down-time can be.

This is what I want for my birthday: open your heart, listen with love, show you care. Show YOUR PDAs! As I regularly say, “show those you love that you love them.”

Thank you for making my birthday a happy one by doing one or more of these actions. I would dearly love to have you comment on this blog to describe what you did!

Posted in joy

What Footwear Do Guys Wear on a Motorcycle?

I really can’t believe this, but some asked via Google Canada, “What Footwear Do Guys Wear on a Motorcycle?

Well, the footwear is called, “motorcycle boots.” These are nifty, cool-looking things that protect your legs and feet, while providing traction. They make a real biker look cool. Here is a recent blog post that gives an overall review of motorcycle boots.

There are many different styles of motorcycle boots. Harness boots are the most common boots worn by bikers, followed by engineer boots. Short tactical boots are also quite common, especially in warm weather.

What a biker needs is function — protection, security, and that “cool factor.” Motorcycle boots offer that.

Now, what footwear do some guys (going for the Darwin Award) wear sometimes on a motorcycle? — Sneakers (trainers), sandals, or (the worst), flip-flops. These things offer no protection from injury and heat, and are the most stupid footwear to consider wearing while operating a real motorcycle.

Okay, now you know (as if you had to ask.) What footwear do guys wear on a motorcycle? Motorcycle boots!

Life is short: wear boots on a motorcycle. Nothing less.

A Day in Gay America

This is the photo I submitted to The Advocate representing my day (yesterday) in America.

I enjoyed a day off and went for a ride on my Harley, leading four friends through spectacularly gorgeous Maryland backroads and byways on a delightful day. Yep, we got slightly lost, but we turned around and found our destination. The ride back was uneventful and equally as stunning in the beauty of my home state’s green forests, farmlands, and countryside.

My brother didn’t join us. He couldn’t find a rental Harley that was available (not until next week). He thought it would not be safe for me to ride on unfamiliar, twisty and hilly roads with a passenger of his size and weight. I agreed with him, though I missed him.

Life is short: be out and open. Enjoy your day in America, gay or not.