Begin Year 8. It is a cloudy day with occasional sprinkles. That matches my emotions at the moment.
Coconut cake is a baking in the oven, Patrick requested it. Pasta salad with homemade herbal-Italian dressing in the fridge. Hope it doesn't rain on volleyball. I may make another batch of watermelon rind pickles tomorrow. I'm taking my last jar north to Mark and Rodger in a couple of weeks.
Patrick and I are going to Sam's memorial service in Portland to say goodbye. I'm listening to one of DJ mixes right now. Last night Wade and I talked about him and how much we missed him.
You know, my friends are really important to me. I was so lonely as a kid, the misfit, the fag. The most positive thing about having had a blog for the last seven years is the people I have met through it, the friendships that have developed. I expect many of them will be my friends until the day I'm gone.
So what will Year 8 bring? Hoping that is better than Year 7.
I've been pretty down and on top of everything I hadn't seen Bunny in a couple of weeks. I figured the dogs had gotten her or perhaps one of the neighbors. And then last night she appeared again, happily munching away at the grass in the backyard.
Bunny.
It was nice to see my little rabbit friend again, my spirits were lifted a bit.
Bunny.
It was nice to see my little rabbit friend again, my spirits were lifted a bit.
Probably sometime in the summer of 1891, the hired girl finished a dress for my great grandfather Colonel. Back then, my great-great grandparents could afford a hired girl for the house and a hired man to help with the chores. Back then, little boys wore dresses. I suppose it was partly Victorian elaboration, partly the fact that changes in boy's clothing marked their changing status towards adulthood.
Colonel and Ada, circa 1891-1892.
My great grandfather is around five-years-old in the picture, Ada is perhaps a year to a year-and-a-half.
My great grandfather had big ears. I remember them from when I was a child. We went to his house in the summer and picked strawberries from his sandy garden. He lifted a board and showed up an enormous toad underneath. The last time I saw him he was suffering from senility, claiming that a neighbor had stolen his lawn mower when my uncle had taken it away for safety reasons. He died in January 1974.
My mother has the dress and the lace collar, still in good condition almost 120 years later.
Colonel's dress.
Little boys graduated to short pants and then, a bit later, to long pants. By age 10 they were wearing adult-style clothing.
From left: Harrison, Perry (back), Charles (front) Ada, and Colonel, circa 1898.
Grandma said the Ransoms always spent a lot of money on clothes.
Colonel and Ada, circa 1891-1892.
My great grandfather is around five-years-old in the picture, Ada is perhaps a year to a year-and-a-half.
My great grandfather had big ears. I remember them from when I was a child. We went to his house in the summer and picked strawberries from his sandy garden. He lifted a board and showed up an enormous toad underneath. The last time I saw him he was suffering from senility, claiming that a neighbor had stolen his lawn mower when my uncle had taken it away for safety reasons. He died in January 1974.
My mother has the dress and the lace collar, still in good condition almost 120 years later.
Colonel's dress.
Little boys graduated to short pants and then, a bit later, to long pants. By age 10 they were wearing adult-style clothing.
From left: Harrison, Perry (back), Charles (front) Ada, and Colonel, circa 1898.
Grandma said the Ransoms always spent a lot of money on clothes.
So the last few days I have been pretty down. It is hard for me to think about Sam being gone. When I hugged him goodbye in May I said to him, "Come visit Tucson," and he said, 'I'm going to."
Little things bring him to mind, a television show about airline employees. I miss trading emails with him. And yet I know that those who knew him better and loved him are suffering a million times more.
And then I see that nasty Maggie Gallagher yapping about how gay people can't have real families because she gets to decide what's what. It makes me seethe. What does that money-grubbing whore know about our families? My guess, she's just miserable because no one has ever really loved her.
Little things bring him to mind, a television show about airline employees. I miss trading emails with him. And yet I know that those who knew him better and loved him are suffering a million times more.
And then I see that nasty Maggie Gallagher yapping about how gay people can't have real families because she gets to decide what's what. It makes me seethe. What does that money-grubbing whore know about our families? My guess, she's just miserable because no one has ever really loved her.
Sam, you were an awesome man. I wish you knew how much I admired your wit and charm, the brilliant writing on your blog.
Sam, San Rafael Valley, 2003
He was the first blogger I was to meet in person. I think it was May or June of 2003 and I was stopped at a stoplight downtown and this incredibly cute guy walked in front of my car and LOOKED at me. He had that kind of magic. On a picnic out at the San Rafael Valley he told me about this guy he had met, Jeff, and that was his first love. Two months ago I had the privilege of meeting Greg, his second love. Sam certainly knew how to pick fine men.
A month ago he mentioned that he wished he knew where the Storicks family had come from so I researched his family tree and send him information tracing them back to a guy named Henry, born in Bavaria in 1819. He was really excited by that. I'm glad I was able to do that for him.
So long buddy, I will miss you.
Sam, San Rafael Valley, 2003
He was the first blogger I was to meet in person. I think it was May or June of 2003 and I was stopped at a stoplight downtown and this incredibly cute guy walked in front of my car and LOOKED at me. He had that kind of magic. On a picnic out at the San Rafael Valley he told me about this guy he had met, Jeff, and that was his first love. Two months ago I had the privilege of meeting Greg, his second love. Sam certainly knew how to pick fine men.
A month ago he mentioned that he wished he knew where the Storicks family had come from so I researched his family tree and send him information tracing them back to a guy named Henry, born in Bavaria in 1819. He was really excited by that. I'm glad I was able to do that for him.
So long buddy, I will miss you.
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