Save The Last Dance For Me

As time marches on, I march also, but right now, to a slower drummer.

I have slept almost continuously for two days, my body and mind exhausted from fighting the MS and the bi-polar disorder. Both diseases bring out the demons in me that have to be strong to battle these two invaders.

I've already addressed the MS in another post, but here is the reality of bi-polar disorder = BPD

taking a toll on the human life, especially the spirit, mind and soul. This picture speaks volumes for me.

It is an"invisible disease" = if you look at me and I look "OK" to you, then you probably move on and think I'm having a great day, but usually I'm focused on making it through the day.

If I don't seem happy when I'm in your presence, don't take it personally. As you can see, I have a lot on my plate and my mission in life, at this moment, is not to make you happy.

With all your compassion and empathy and sympathy, I don't want any of those = I want you to accept me for who I am and have an understanding about the miles I've walked in with these shoes I have on.

And one of these days, when I walk up to you, will you save "the last dance for me"??

Until then, this is the Last Word.

The Fool On The Hill

I see the world spinning 'round and around.

According to some sightings, I am the crazy man in the trailer with all the cats. Maybe it's me, or maybe it's not. It's all in the eyes of the beholder. Some people have told me that other people are afraid of me. Me! Little 'ole me! No!

Now, I have been known to cut people to ribbons with my words, but not physically. You know, step on toes = if the shoe fits, you know the rest.

The truth set me free. For other people, it would play utter chaos with their world = the truth, I mean.

These Pollyanna people have created a world where bad things don't happen, bad people don't infiltrate their circle of friends, nothing but nice things are said about them on Facebook.

Really?!

You name me a perfect world filled with perfect people and I will gladly sell you some swampland in Florida.

In the world of = selfies, profile pictures, Instagram, Twitter, etc. = the people who are caught up in the media frenzy that seems to infiltrate every corner of this globe don't see the other side of the screen = the computer screen where you can remain hidden, anonymous, self-serving, complimentary = I don't buy into a lot of the media hype, although I do like to read People magazine, I take some stories with a grain of salt, not bothering to pay any attention to the people who are way over-exposed = Queen  B, for example.

Enter the media world at your own risk = you see and hear what you want to see and hear and then tell me who the "fool on the hill" really is.

Until next time, this is The Last Word.

My Man, He Done Me Wrong

See this man = I was looking for someone on LinkedIn the other night and one of the people who it linked me to was the man in this picture = a man I've known since 1990. He was a mere boy then, a young adult, 23 years old and I had just turned 45.

I was captured by his boyish good looks and since I was recently divorced and living alone and looking for someone to landscape my yard, I got this flyer in the mail that advertised the services of two brothers = the Phillips brothers and this was one of them, Jason.

He and his brother showed up and landscaped my lawn and Jason stuck around, talking. I was getting ready to go to work and he still stuck around.

Before I knew what had happened, he approached me and you can guess everything that happened, not just that day but for the next 15 years, he became a part of my life, my financial life, so to speak. I spent money on him like it was going out of style. Money I didn't have, but he said he needed.

He used me up until he was ready to move on and I didn't see him again until he showed up on LinkedIn. Oh, I had talked to him in the interim, trying to re-connect, but somehow the connection never took place.

When I called him from the LinkedIn information, he told me had gotten married, to a woman fifteen years ago. His marriage and our relationship had somehow overlapped. Our relationship "formally" ended in 2005 after I moved back to Kentucky, but according to him, he had married in 2000.

The math wasn't right.

If you see him anywhere or know him personally = he lives in Phoenix, Arizona = go up to him and kick his ass for me, see if any of the money he owes me falls out of his pockets.

That was 25 years ago and boy have I moved on. Slowly moving, but I moved on. Still bitter and angry = somewhat, but it doesn't consume me like it used to, but I'll bet his wife would like to hear the story of his past, if he hasn't already told her, which I'm almost positive he hasn't, because secrecy was one of his biggest traits.

I never was "in love" with and I'm not sure I ever "loved" him. The one person I would have followed to the ends of the earth disappeared out of my life 50 years ago this year. Maybe that's why I've never "been in love" or "loved" anybody again, except my babies.

I lost "The One" = the one that got away, but the memories sustain me.

Until next time, this is The Last Word.

Running Against The Wind

I love this art work, it's an electric version of a modern man. I love the colors.

With Mother's Day and Father's Day coming up, this post is going to be a "potpourri" of events. Like that word? It used to be a category on Jeopardy. You know, "Potpourri for $200, Alex".

It's going to be about men and women, mothers and fathers, but mixed together. It's not about one specific person, it's about some real people and some generic people, you know, the made-up kind, so here goes.

This is a picture of my  "alleged" grandparents.

I say "alleged" because I don't know for sure, who my grandparents were, who my father was or who my Mother was. This is a picture of Elizabeth and Clay Conley. Everyone says I look like Clay. I don't think so. I think I look like me, sort of general, average appearance. I used to be sort of good-looking, in my mid-30s, but gradually age set in and the looks went out the window.

I have a plastic card that has my birth certificate notification on it. It doesn't list my Mother's name, just my name and birthday. So, I don't know if the person everyone called "Mom" is my real Mother.

Yesterday, April 27th, would have been my brother Sonny's 77th birthday. His real last name is Caskey, but was changed to Conley to avoid confusion in school. My sister Jo's last name was changed from Caskey to Conley to avoid confusion in school and so was my sister Marie's name, changed to Conley. My last name was left as Patrick and my sister Betty's last name was left as Kelly.

Talk about confusion!! Nothing but !!

Everyone always thought of our family as just five siblings. Well, that is wrong. Three of my siblings died in infancy = one girl and two boys, so let's set that straight.

This is Sonny a week before he died.

Switching gears somewhat, some might say a "radical" swtch, but this is about a man who is going to die very soon, Bruce Jenner. His male persona is going to die and he is going to become a woman.

The post on my wall that disappeared without a trace this week, this is who it was about, Bruce Jenner. I just voiced my support of him and I know in this part of the country it is not a good thing to do, be supportive of someone who is "different". The hills of Kentucky are alive with people who would do "you in" at a moment's notice and if they think you are a little bit "different", you're toast.

Been battling those bigots and prejudicial people all my life and I finally found my voice and "my truth" and chose to live life my way.

This is Bruce Jenner today.

I don't think he will make an attractive female, but that is not the point. He is trapped inside a body that isn't female. It's been a battle for him for most of his adult life to live like people thinks he should have lived, as an Olympic champion, but other events were in the works. It takes a lot of courage of character and bravery to live "your truth" but when you do, the world will not be easier to live in, but you will live easier in your own skin, in your own mind and in your own world. So, I commend Bruce for being that brave.

Life is not all about "roses and sunshine and lollipops" = it's about individual choices, those choices that make you an individual.

My cousin's daughter recently lost her husband and she is having a rough time. She lets it be known she is having a hard time. But, someone said they wanted to see "a picture of her smiling" so she complied. That is not the way she is feeling, according to her own words. She has been left alone to fend for herself and her children and her anger, I believe, is directed at her husband who left her. So, don't smile if you don't feel like it, just so someone else can feel good about life.

I've been celibate for almost 20 years, but in my mind, I'm still gay. That is not going to change. The desire to "be gay" is no longer on my radar, but it's still a part of who I am, it's not everything I am, but it's a part of who I am. I own that, no one else can play around with it, I don't want anybody to suddenly believe I'm straight, because I'm not. Myself belongs to me and you cannot play around with it, make it something you want to make it.

My spirituality has gotten (is that a word?) me through a lot of bumpy, rough times. Not my religion, but my spirituality. I still get bitter about things, probably always will = I still get angry at certain things, probably always will = but when I step back and let my "spiritual" side take over, all the problems fall away.

May Day is coming up and I hope to be in town to celebrate it. Going to "step out of my box" for that day and venture into the public eye. No harm, no foul, if I'm not able to do so. I promised a friend I would and I need to keep that promise.

Really, don't have much to write about right now. Will save some interesting stuff for next time around. 

Until then, this is The Last Word.

9 Paper Plates on the Kitchen Floor

I've been away from my writing for some time now, but it probably isn't something my Facebook friends would agree with. They would probably say I say a lot in my postings.

This has been a rough year for me and probably for a lot of people, but last June 16th, I was informed of the death of one of my beloved friends in Georgia, Margaret Betz, I called her M'Beez. She had been diagnosed with uterine cancer 6 weeks prior to June 16th and was in Hospice when she died. That's her on the left.

The day after she passed away, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS). My doctor advised me to have a brain scan (MRI) at St. Claire (Morehead). I did and that's what showed up. It answered a lot of questions about some of my symptoms and I won't go into those, because it is too medically-oriented, but people get the gist of what MS is.

It is an incurable disease. Mine is called Intermittent Late Onset MS (ILOMS) and it "comes and goes" = therefore, "intermittent". The brain waves, at times, as you can see from the bottom picture (in red) go "haywire" at times. The picture at the top shows you what it does.

The first week in October last year, I woke up and was completely blind in my left eye. Had surgery on the eye to repair the shattered retina (the surgeon said he didn't know what caused it, "it just happens", he said. He repaired the retina and it took 3 months to completely go back in place, but the surgeon could not restore the vision. It is now like looking through the bottom of a Coke bottle. I can either keep it uncovered or wear a patch over it to protect it. I wear the patch sometimes when I go out in public to protect it from the sunlight, because the surgery makes it impossible for me to close the left eye all the way. I am in constant discomfort from it.

Last year was the year of Murphy's Law for me, but the constant forces in my life are my 9 babies = Boo (Baby-Doo), Darby (Doodle), Toot, Emma, Pete, Penny, Linus, Lucy (Belle) and Charlie (Brown). They are the reasons I get up during the day. I'm usually up all night and sleep all day, but Penny and Boo wake me up about 6 in the morning to feed them. So, I put 9 paper plates on the kitchen floor and feed them and then lay back down on the couch. Penny cannot make a sound (the sub-freezing temps she endured before I rescued her several years ago destroyed her vocal cords), but she looks at me with those big brown expressive eyes and that tells me all I need to know = you know, "the windows to the soul".

I don't have pictures of all of them yet, but that is my next goal, go get those picture as soon as I can get me a digital camera next month, but these are the pictures of 6 of them.

Emma

Penny

Darby

This is Darby the day I rescued him

Pete (female)

Toot

 

 Boo

When those 9 paper plates are no longer on the kitchen floor, that will be my cue to leave this world. Those plates are the reasons I live each day. God will hopefully take me by the hand one day after the plates disappear and lead me Home.

He walks among us, I can feel His presence and I received a sign from Him the other day (that's the way I saw it and I can't be convinced otherwise that it wasn't Him) to tell me that he is watching over me and my 9 babies.

I have lost a lot of friends, relatives and fur babies over the years and each loss has created pain in my heart and soul that no amount of time can heal. I put the  pain in a "bearable" place until it is too much, then I let it out and grieve. The tears cleanse my soul, but the losses are still there.

Hopefully this blog and these columns contained within it, will help keep me occupied, keep my mind off a lot of things. I am grateful my mind is still intact enough to do this = writing. The MS undoubtedly will take its toll eventually and I don't know what's going to happen then. Only God knows. Maybe He has a miracle for me up His sleeve.

Until then, this is The Last Word this time around.

It's Been A Long Time Comin'

 

By Harry Patrick

This time in my life is one of remembrance and pondering questions and filled with depression and dark, long nights and sleepless nights.

April has been a month of coming to terms with my aging process and my mortality. That has been a long time comin' and I knew eventually it would have to happen.

There are certain things I can do on a daily basis, but I can't make long-term plans for obvious reasons, but I can still lend my voice wherever I can for things I believe in, like the abuse of God's creature.

April is the Prevention of Animal Cruelty Month and I have seen a lot of cruelty to animals in the past several years and it still sickens me physically when I see the product of someone who has abandoned an animal and left it to starve and probably die, especially after the Easter holiday.

Parents who buy their child a bunny as a "gift" should have to have a license saying their child is a responsible child and they are responsible adults. But, there are a lot of ignorant people in this world and their stupidity is not fixable.

I'm going to be jumping around in this blog, because I don't know how to make this particular one flow properly. A lot on my mind lately, so I'm going to write it down as it comes in my head, so good luck following it.

Today, April 27, my brother Sonny wold have been 76 years old. He died on October 16, 2011 and I miss him terribly. We had just begun to work out our differences, saying "I love you" to each other as we parted ways.

The last time I saw him alive was in September of 2011 at our family reunion. Because of a back problem, I helped him to his truck after dinner was over. He couldn't drive, but he really missed that freedom that driving used to give him. He said, "Come see me soon". I said I would, but did not and that is one regret I will carry with me until I breathe my last breath. His death was posted on Facebook by one of his stepdaughters who said they loved him, but I doubted it from the start of his marriage to their mother. Thank God, I didn't see it on Facebook, someone in the family finally got hold of me. The stepdaughters and my widowed sister-in-law are no longer on my Facebook Friends list.

I have been crying lately and I don't know if it's just "good old" depression or the reality of my life. I believe it is the reality.

I will look at one of my babies and start crying, thinking what a miracle they all are and if I go first, how lonely and heartbroken they will be. I am determined to be the last one to go, out of the ten of us. I want their last image to be of me. I don't want a stranger to step in and take over. That might happen, but I don't want it to happen. The crying, at these times, will sometimes last for an hour or two. The sadness and pain and grief at this time devour me until I am a broken shell of a man.

There is a new show on ABC called The Black Box = I think it's on Thursday night at 10:00 p.m. It is about a woman with bi-polar disorder who is herself a therapist. Her therapist is played by the remarkable Vanessa Redgrave. The main character portrays what has happened in my life and for anyone who thinks this mental illness is something to be dismissed, because after all, "you look so good on the outside" = you couldn't possibly be sick. It is  not something to be dismissed, but it's very hard to explain it to other people. My ex-wife accused me of faking it all those years we were married. She also accused me of faking my sexuality.

Even though I was up front with her when we became engaged in October 1965, she said later she didn't know what homosexuality really meant. I didn't believe her when she said that, because I think she took me on as a "project" to see if she could change me, you know, make me straight. Her second marriage to a younger man was also a "project" of hers, to make him socially acceptable. She met him on a vacation in April 1989 when she went to Charleston, S.C. with a friend of hers. She had unprotected sex with him and one of his friends in a tent they had on the beach. He was homeless, suffering from schizophrenia, but she moved him to Marietta into the house I used to live in and she married him, stayed with him all these years, so I guess that particular "project" worked. He has been riding a "gravy train" all these years, not working, drawing disability, so I guess when he decided to marry her, he knew he would never have an opportunity like this again. Even though abuse happened, she stuck with him. She didn't want her latest "project" to fail.

I was involved with someone else in the summer of  1965, but between her and  my mother, I was psychologically beat into the ground, because my mother didn't want people making fun of me. So, I finally relented and have regretted it ever since, even though the marriage lasted from 1966 to 1989. The divorce was one of the best decisions I ever made.

I've found a measure of happiness and peace this last year, because I don't think anybody ever has complete happiness and peace in their lives. I'll take that measure, but one of my neighbors and his family, out in this neck of the woods, are obnoxious, loud people who need to live on another planet or on a deserted island, with no other people around.  They are non-educated rednecks who think nothing of target practice at midnight. All of a sudden, there is this loud sound and you know that the neighbor or one of the family members, has "let loose". Wish I had a remote control that I could press "Mute" on whenever they raised their voice to a roar, which is anytime they are outside. The children are following in their parents' footsteps, if you know what I mean.

I'm glad we didn't have any children, because the baggage from both our lives would have spelled disaster for the kids, but now I wonder if that was a mistake, because I believe I would have made a "great" grandfather. I wondered if I would have made the same mistake a lot of parents make with their kids, thinking they owe them something, even after they are grown. They don't owe them anything, it should be the other way around, the kids owe their parents respect and love and should step up to the plate when there is need for a caretaker.

I can't think of anything else to put in here, so this is my blog for April.

Until next time, this is the "last word".

Frozen in Time

By Harry Patrick

I can't believe it's been 50 years this year that I was a sophomore at Berea College. It was also the year that the world as we knew it changed forever.

I was working in the basement of the college library, checking out "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" when my supervisor ran into the room with her transistor radio in her hand, saying "Kennedy's been shot, Kennedy's been shot"!

Although the JFK assassination has been the subject of thousands of ideas about conspiracies, etc., it can't change the fact that JFK will always be that age, never growing older and Jackie will always be that age, never growing older. Even though Jackie was not killed that day, she went on with her life which has been well documented, but to me, she will always be the First Lady dressed in pink that day in Dallas, on November 22, 1963, about 1:00 p.m.

Footnote about Jackie = she died the same day a female relative of mine was murdered, shot by a man she thought was a friend.

JFK and Jackie are frozen in time and at times I feel like I am, too. Even though I am now 68, almost 69 years old, my mind still feels young, I love the same things I did when I was younger, even though lately I have not been as interested in the new TV shows as I used to be.

I used to couldn't wait until the new season to see my favorite shows and Sunday night is one of my favorites, but this season, I could tell something was "off", different, I didn't feel the same enthusiasm and anticipation as I have in other years. Is it just a lack of interest or is it something else?

My motivation for doing anything productive has gone right out the window, no desire to dig in and do something, from beginning to end, the desire is just not there.

Another Sunday coming to an end, November 10, 2013. My neighbor decided to mow his huge yard for several  hours today, disrupting the quiet that the country at times provides for you. Sometimes, not so quiet.

The country life is not for a lot of people and although I enjoy certain aspects of the isolation and the quietness, I still would love to live back in town. It would be easier on my psyche, I believe.

I'm thinking about going back to Pathways because my bi-polar disorder, or something, is causing me to "lose my cool" more than I should lately.

Or is just my opinions coming through verbally, without a filter? According to a recent Reader's Digest article, it is normal to think of what you would say if you wanted to, say someone cut in line and you wanted to say something but you just thought it, you didn't say it out loud. Well, here lately, I have been saying my thoughts out loud, no filter, sometimes with negative consequences. I didn't feel it was negative while I was saying it, but since the people around me don't know my mental history, they, of course, didn't understand where my outburst came from, even though, from their whispers in the crowd, they wanted to say something.

What I did and said next is frozen in time, I can't get that five minutes back in my life, so the words are out there, time-stamped on the wind.

The cashier at a certain store was having trouble understanding a customer's request that the two items she had lain on the counter were "buy one, get one free". She iterated this to the female cashier several times, but the girl still rung up the sale and charged her for two items.

All Hell broke loose because the girl started yelling, at the top of her lungs, for her manager. She yelled over and over and over and then the people in line behind me started to yell for him also. She did not know how to undo the problem.

While she was waiting on the manager, she struck up a conversation with two males she apparently knew. They stood in front of me and started talking to her, leaning on the counter while they talked. They both were young black males, wearing khaki shorts with their white briefs on display for everyone to see. The back waistband of their khakis were down below the leg holes of their briefs, their asses hanging out. The briefs were of very thin material and you could see their ass and their ass crack.

I found this very offensive and asked them if they would pull up their shorts because I did not enjoy looking at their asses on display. They ignored me, a verbal argument ensued between me, them, the cashier and the woman in front of me.

Without going into detail about what all was said and I was already frustrated and angry about waiting for the manager to clear the cashier's mistake, the young men refused to pull up their shorts, but left the store, then the lady in front of me decided to put her two cents' worth in and started telling me how rude I was to them.

I snapped, no other word for it and I let the cashier, the manager and the lady in front of me have it = let's just say "I tore them all a new one".

By the time I finally was checked out and made it to my car, I was shaking all over. I don't like confrontations, but I was so tired of people just doing what they damn well please and nobody saying anything. The people in line started complimenting the cashier for "doing such a good job" and said people should be allowed to wear what they wanted to wear in public.

Excuse me, I don't think so!! No . . . no!!!

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be "frozen in time" but frozen at a good time, not like the one I encountered recently at that particular store.

So much for filters!!