He Is Not My Roomate

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The other day, someone at my office asked me, “how is your roommate?” She had heard that my partner had brain surgery and wanted to know how he was doing. Internally, I sighed. I knew she was only trying to be nice. But he is not my “roommate.” That implies such a casual relationship.

I answered her question, but then followed with, “and he is not my roommate. He is the equivalent of a spouse. I call him my partner.” She did not know how to respond, but said, “well, I’m glad he’s okay.”

I don’t know why that particular phrase made me angry, but it does. After 18+ years, he is much more than just a roommate.

Okay, rant over. I love my partner, my spouse, my hunk, my best half.

Life is short: be calm but be clear.

Preparing Others

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As you read this message, we are less than a day away from a hit by a tropical system. We are prepared at home, and throughout the day today, my brother and I are visiting my senior pals and helping them bring things indoors that may become wind-blown debris, pick up refills of prescription meds that they may need, make sure they have flashlights, a battery-powered radio, and extra batteries, and help them fill voids (empty spaces) in their refrigerators and freezers. Doing that helps keep foods fresher and colder longer if the power goes out.

We are helping our elderly and disabled friends and neighbors prepare and do things that they cannot do for themselves. It will be a busy day!

Thank goodness we do not have to go to a grocery or building supplies store. Those places are crazy-busy, being overwhelmed by who I call “the woefully unprepared who just woke up and are overreacting.” Happens every time, with every event. Everywhere.

I am now entrusting blogger to “go on automatic” and post a new blog post every day until I get back. I’m not going anywhere, but we probably will lose power and internet connectivity. Though we have a generator, it only operates essentials and the internet isn’t “essential.” We’ll survive. I’ll update you on how we fared after the storm passes and when our power and internet service are working again.

Wish us well.

Life is short: be safe.

What I Do

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Above is an image that predicts the amount of rainfall that will be generated from a major storm that will strike the U.S. East Coast starting today and through the weekend as the storm progresses north. Huge amounts of rain will fall in a large swath, and strong sustained winds will blow, too. The rain will cause massive flooding to already oversaturated land, streams, and rivers all the way up the (US Interstate Highway) I-95 corridor. Together, the wind and rain will likely cause a lot of damage and power outages.

Seems like New Jersey is going to be Ground Zero for the most intense effects of this storm. Having suffered severe flooding in March, and lots of rain hence, they’re already saturated. It’s going to be really, really bad.

I also worry about family and friends who live in the New England states (New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine) who are generally not prepared for a hurricane. Indications are that they will get socked by this one big-time.

Concerned as I am, I called my brother who was in New York City and advised him and his wife to high-tail it back home immediately. Glad I did: Amtrak has canceled train service effective Friday and for the rest of the weekend. My brother and his wife got the last of the few tickets left for a train back to DC on Thursday. They are safe with us now in our storm-prepared home (that we will not have to evacuate because it is well-built and on high ground, far inland from any bodies of water.)

This is a peek into what I do for a living: I explain this stuff so it makes sense to people and so they can prepare themselves, their loved-ones, and their communities and prevent injury, death, and lessen damage.

Just so ‘ya know. This is what I do.

If you live in the areas of the U.S. that will be affected by this storm, pay attention and take steps to prepare. It will be rough. Get ready NOW! Read this to keep informed.


Life is short: be prepared.

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Wearing Cowboy Boots

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This message was posted on schedule on August 24, but got overshadowed by a fresh post I did that day, so I moved it to today. Enjoy.

One might think that maintaining a website that catalogs a large collection of cowboy boots and motorcycle boots, as well as leather gear, might generate a number of visits for various reasons.  What has amazed me is that for more than a year now, over half of my daily visitors land on my web page titled, wearing cowboy boots.  Not leather, not any particular brand of boots, and not even cop galleries (which remains second highest in daily visits.)

Take a look at the list of internet queries on the left. That’s a real-time image of the internet searches that bring visitors to my website.  The most frequent keywords or questions entered into an internet search engine that drive visitor’s to my “wearing cowboy boots” page are:

  • Tuck jeans (or pants or trousers) into cowboy boots or not?
  • how to wear cowboy boots
  • What are stacked jeans?
  • Is it okay to wear boots with a suit?
  • Can you wear cowboy boots with khakis?

Oh, and I loved the one that said, “where cowboy boots with a suit.”  That guy has to go back to school… but I digress.

Sheesh… it continues to cause me to wonder why so many people — literally, thousands per day — use the internet to ask these questions.  Well, I know one reason is that an internet search is anonymous. Nobody really knows who is asking such questions.  But I wonder if the sheer volume of these kinds of questions poses a larger question:  are guys that insecure? Curious? Inquisitive? Looking for confirmation?

I really don’t know.  However, because of the volume and frequency with which questions like this direct people to my page about how to wear cowboy boots (with jeans, khakis, and suits), I updated that page, compleat with images that demonstrate how long jeans should be, what color boots go well with certain clothes, and that it IS okay to wear boots with khakis and suits in an office (or a wedding, etc.) 

It really IS okay to wear cowboy boots, guys.  If you’re asking, you will get that confirmation from me. Heck, I wear boots every day, including with dress clothes in an office.  No.big.deal.

Life is short:  wear boots!

Earthquake?

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Yes, an earthquake happened yesterday. It was epicentered in Mineral, Virginia (about 90 miles south of DC), and the shaking was felt as far south as Georgia and as far north as New England. What you see in the photo above is the visible earthquake “damage” in my home — Guido was knocked off his (replica Harley) motorcycle. That’s it. No.big.deal. But from the reactions related in news stories, one would think that Armageddon happened. Oh brother….

I felt it. I was in my high-rise office building in the downtown of my hometown in Maryland. Immediately when I felt the floor shaking and then rolling (literally), I yelled, “earthquake! Drop, Cover, and Hold On!” — then dropped under my desk, grabbed the back of my head, and waited. The slow, undulating rolling of the quake lasted for about 15 seconds.

After the shaking was over, I got out from under my desk and, like most others, gathered with my colleagues to verify, “was that really an earthquake?” None of them did the “drop-cover-hold on” procedure, but none of them have experienced an actual earthquake as I have in other parts of the U.S. (California, Alaska, Hawaii) and the world (Italy, Japan, Turkey).

Then to both my bemusement and dismay, the fire alarm went off and we were all told to evacuate. Down the stairs we went, and gathered across the street in a parking lot. A half-hour waiting in the strong sunshine, then we were told to gather our personal belongings and go home.

I didn’t even bother to return to my building. I just walked to where my Harley was parked and joined the long queue to leave the garage, then crawl home. What a nightmare — everyone was leaving at the same time. I think I was slightly ahead of the curve, and was on the road home before the majority of others. Most everyone in DC was evacuated and sent home, so traffic gridlocked for hours. Thank goodness my partner was at home instead of at his office in downtown DC. He did as I have instructed and as we practiced. He dropped, covered, and held on, too.

What a friggin’ disaster. People should have stayed put and waited to leave in a staged, orderly manner. Trouble is, security types in DC are conditioned and trained in their responses to expect that when buildings shake, it’s due to something like an airplane or vehicle crashing into it — shades of memories (and subsequent over-reaction training) from September 11, 2001. (Please don’t call it “9/11”. Thanks.) So everyone was evacuated and told to leave. Not the right response to an earthquake, but their heart was in the right place.

It’s just crazy in DC when anything happens — even what my world-class mentor in disaster work called it, “an earthquake of no significance.”

I just love DC. Hot air, media hype, and craziness. Welcome to my world.

Life is short: be calm. Drop, cover, hold on. If you can’t do that, then just stay home.

Moving On

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Guest Blog by BHD’s Twin Brother

I have enjoyed visiting with my brother for the past three weeks, and having my wife here with us for the past two weeks. It began with my retirement, and a great send-off from my colleagues at work. That’s all behind me now.

My brother was concerned about what I will do now that I’m retired. Well, no worries, I was selected for a great job back in Europe with a company that does consulting in my specialty field. The new job will involve a move to Rome, Italy. My wife and I will be happy to return to her country of birth, and be closer to her family. Plus, I just love Rome. It is a fun, exciting, energetic, and vibrant city. We have secured a flat in the city close to public transit, markets, and international businesses with whom I will be working. The new job doesn’t start until October, so we will have plenty of time to pack up our belongings from our small apartment in Paris and move.

This week (actually, yesterday), my wife and I took the train to New York City. We will visit family who live there and see some shows and the sights this week. My brother needs to return his full attention to his work, and now that we are assured that his partner is well on the road to recovery, I think they will enjoy some peace and quiet. He assures me that we have been non-intrusive, but I sense that they both would appreciate a return to a sense of normalcy in their home.

We will return on Friday and stay for the weekend, the last weekend of our visit to the U.S. Then we return to Paris next Monday. But before we begin packing up and moving to Rome, we will take two weeks to visit my wife’s family in Northern Italy and take a holiday (second honeymoon) in Venice, where we were married.

I have thoroughly enjoyed this visit. It has been relaxed, comfortable, and fun. We did not plan to do anything but visit with family, see friends and (former) neighbors, including some of our high school classmates who still live in the area. Sometimes, the best vacation is one that is unplanned.

I will miss having my brother’s physical presence when we leave. I have enjoyed watching him orchestrate the functions of his household, community activities, and riding his beloved Harley. He shows by his actions how much he cares for those in his circle — especially his partner and our family, as well as his “senior pals”. Man, I wish I had half his energy. (He claims it’s all about scheduling and balancing time, but he makes it seem so darn effortless! Especially as he naturally switches speaking in Italian to my wife and me, in English with his partner, and in Spanish with some of his community group leaders. He’s good, really good, with the languages.)

As my brother always says, life is short. Enjoy it, love it, and care for those you love. He’s an amazing man, who I love with all of my heart.

Be well, bro’. See my smile each day, and feel my heart surrounding you.

J

What I Did On My Summer Staycation

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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

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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

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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

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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.