kybearfuzz: (Dreaming)
Softball was last night. We played well, but I'm sore. I had a great dream and woke up (I think) due to Milo the Cat head-butting me. It's 5:30 AM, but I didn't want to forget the details. Sleepy, I rubbed the bruise on my left shin from last night's bounce that hit me while catching, climbed out of bed, and stumbled past the cats to my desktop in my comic book room.

I think I was in college and had been sent on an assignment to my hometown of Corbin, KY to interview an author, a humorist who had written three books. I had never read any of this books and stopped by Barnes & Noble (which my hometown doesn't have) with a friend and the author himself to buy his books, so I could read them first.

The author, whose name I don't recall, looked an awful lot like Kurt Vonnegut, an older gent with thick, curly gray hair, a wrinkled face with sunken eyes and a thick mustache, and a good sense of humor. While the author wasn't Kurt Vonnegut, I'll refer to him as Kurt. Having not read his books, I thought I was giving the author a great first impression. Luckily, the bookstore had his three books together in a compendium at a discount price. I'm sure he enjoyed that as well.

While I'm trying to steamroll through his book, we were giving him a tour of my hometown and all of the local characters that it seems to have. One of the stops was a small market across the street from my Mom's house, a white building with white bars on the teller's window. Like all local small markets, it had odds and ends.

At some point, we ended up in a beat up Ford Pinto with my Mom driving. The floor of the car was littered with various trash. A neighbor was there in front of the house and was either drunk or crazy, likely both. She was yelling at my mom for something, so I immediate took the offensive and told her to f-off and called her "crazy bitch" several times as she shouted obscenities back at me while readjusting her bra strap that had crept out of her sleeveless shirt. The insults from her tapered off as she walked away. Again, I was embarrassed as this was not the best second impression I could make.

"We should get out before she comes back with a gun," I said to Kurt the author.

Kurt got out with me before Mom parked the car. As I shut the door, the door slammed shut on a cinnamon coffee cake in the door frame, unleashing a cloud of powdered cinnamon in the air. I was shocked at first, reopened the car door, moved the cake, and slammed the door shut again, releasing a second cloud for the remainder that I missed.

We went into the house and Mom gave me a mini-recorder, which had her copy of the Kurt's book on audiotape to help me and so I could record the interview. I looked at my copy of the book and I was already near the end of the second book of the three, but it looks like Kurt had tabbed the rest of the book in the lower corner with dates for me. Causing more of a delay, we ran into a few locals on our front porch who had invited the author to a drag show downtown.

Kurt and I went to a small office in the building behind Mom's house to do the interview. The office was full of various papers, stacked high and falling over, and a small TV set that seemed to enamour Kurt with some 1980's television shows. We sat down at a desk. I had about 20 minutes to get this interview as it was getting close to dinner time and Kurt wanted Skyline Chili.

I grabbed the tape recorder, thinking this would be the fastest, then realized the only tape I had was the one inside and it had Mom's bootleg recording of his audiobook. I excused myself from the author and left him continue watching the TV show while I ran back to Mom to get a fresh tape. She handed me the remainder of a thee-piece candy bar, which stated that it came with two mini-audio cassettes on the front wrapper. Excited, I thanked her and ran back toward the office, unwrapping the last chunk for the fresh cassette, only to find that this was the last bit of the candy bar itself. Groaning, I chucked the candy into my mouth and ran across the street to a small market we had gone into earlier to see if they had them.

The small market was now FULL of stacks of tax forms and papers. I'm literally stepping over them to get to the register. As I poke my head through the white bars between us, a black and white spaniel pushed his head against me wanting to be petted. Several people were in the office, dressed like postal workers and carrying more forms. One of them saw me struggling with the attention-wanting puppy and asked what I needed. I asked if he had any blank mini-cassettes. He said no and held up regular-sized cassettes, asking me if they would do. I said no and must have looked disappointed. One of the other postal guys said that I had six minutes to get the cassette. I asked why six minutes and he said that was how long it takes to get to the store that has them.

Realizing how short a time I had left, I resigned myself to just taping over Mom's audiobook and that I'd have to buy her the actual audiobook to replace it. I ran back to the office to find Kurt still sitting there watching TV.

Apologizing profusely, I hit rewind on the tape recorder, suddenly remembering that I had no questions prepared and was going to have to wing it with what little I could recall from trying to power-read his books throughout the day. Instead of hitting him with all the usual questions whose answers I could get from the book jacket, I landed on one that I thought might get him at ease.

At that moment, I woke up, which ended my chances of getting the interview.

For those curious, the question was "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
kybearfuzz: (Default)
I don't have a set date for the anniversary of my coming out. As I have posted before, I came out to myself when I turned 30 years old and started the process of coming out to others very soon after. I have never regretted it for a moment.

Mark 2020 Homoversary sm
Yes, I have this many colors of these shirts...


A couple of weeks ago, I was having a conversation with a co-worker about visiting family for the holidays. I don't recall exactly how, but the discussion came around to him asking me if my parents ever tried to "correct" any obvious gay traits (OGTs) that they may have seen in me.

Being non-athletic and a tad histrionic, I was often labeled as a sissy by other kids, including cousins and even siblings. I know my dad often shut me down whenever things got a bit over the top. I remember that he bought me and my siblings glossy tee-shirts, the kind you saw in the 1970s where a thick, photographic transfer was on the front. My sister had something girly, with a horse on it or a kitten (I think). My brother had the "General Lee" car from "The Dukes of Hazzard." Mine was "Daisy Duke" from the same show, played by Barbara Bach, sitting seductively on her jeep. I tried to find a photo of it online and I couldn't. While I would enjoy the shirt for its kitschy nature now, at the time I was unimpressed with it. Looking back, I see it for what it was, something with a hot girl on the front that I could be seen in by others.

When we would watch the show, there was a scene in the opening credits with Barbara Bach in a red bikini. If I hooted and hollered at it, my dad would laugh proudly. It was all for his benefit and in a house full of kids, I got dad's attention for a few seconds, so it became a weekly event.

My dad signed me and the twin up for football in 3rd grade without asking, that I recall. If he did, it was probably phrased "Do you guys want to go play football? It'll be fun!" without telling us exactly what was involved. I just remember being taken to a locker room one day and fitted with ill-fitting pads and pants, saddled with a helmet too small, and then dragged to a field for my first practice. It wasn't fun. I hated it. When I quit after two weeks, my dad was disappointed in me, giving me dirty stares and not speaking to me for a month after. At 8 years old, that was rough. Again, I'm sure it was done to try to butch me up, but luckily my mom said I didn't have to do it if I didn't want to.

On a side note, my sister took this same approach with her kid that Mom did. If my nephew didn't enjoy sports, he didn't have to play them. I often wonder if she doesn't remember my horrible foray into football as part of her decision-making process.

My folks always said I was the quiet child of their brood. The reason for that was that after being shut down so much for any dramatic behavior, I found being quiet got me less correction. Once my siblings and I hit our teen years, Mom and Dad had to give a lot more attention to my more rebellious twin and sis than me, so I was often left to do whatever I wanted.

Today, there is the movement for gender neutrality, no pushing boys toward boy-things or girls toward girl-things. Some (mostly conservative) folks hate it because it fights the comfortable norm they grew up with, while others love their kids no matter what and don't believe it's necessary to push them toward things they may not want.

So did my folks try to correct my behavior, yeah, but mostly my dad. I've heard and read horror stories of others' experience, so mine pale in comparison.
kybearfuzz: (Bill the Cat)
My "Franken-knee" returned on Friday. I could feel the pain in the back of my left knee pit start. I tried to exercise my way through it, but I think I made it worse. My knee swelled up Saturday morning. I was seriously considering not going to my hometown to see family, as I didn't want to be hobbling around all day. However, having not been home in several weeks I really felt like I should go, so I made an effort and drove down.

It was good to see Mom, who is no better or worse. It was fun to see my sister, as we tend to laugh no matter the topic. When I got in to her house, I had to explain my swollen knee, which made her cringe a bit. After I caught her up on my knee, she started a new topic of discussion with the following question:

"Guess who died..."

I looked at her and smirked, stating "You know, I hate this game."

It's something that my mom always used to do and it usually caused me to roll my eyes.

Later that night at dinner at Applebee's, my sis, brother-in-law, and I got into a good laugh about my knee. We had talked about my brother and his reticence to discuss anything gay-related. My brother-in-law joked that maybe the twin might want to play in the league. I laughed and said that he would never want to discuss it, joking that I got my swollen knee from a softball injury while giving head to the umpire.

My sister picked up this joke and ran with it.

She said, "You were on first base, on your knees, giving the umpire a blowjob, and you didn't see the line drive coming. It hit you in the knee."

My brother-in-law and I were cracking up as she told it, but we lost our breath over the next line.

"And I really would feel bad for the umpire after what happened to him."

*Think "The World According to Garp"*
kybearfuzz: (Default)
It's been a really busy few days, mostly good and a hint of bad.

  • I took Friday off so I could jaunt down to Corbin to see my sister and my mom. Mom seems to have adjusted well to the nursing home. She has moments where she's not happy there, but others she where she's enjoying the company of the other ladies. My sister and I had a bitch-fest about my twin who hasn't visited Mom since Christmas. He lives in town, less than ten minutes from Mom, yet he does not want to visit. I'm not sure what his issues are, but I foresee me having it out with him soon over his behavior.


  • Saturday was my drive home. It was relatively uneventful. I got back to spend a few hours cleaning the house in anticipation of the arrival of Steve ([personal profile] rootbeer1).


  • Steve and I hung out for a few days, eating Skyline Chili multiple times and enjoying Graeter's Ice Cream. We did see "A Quiet Place" which was really good for a horror movie. We both agreed that sadly there was not enough shirtlessness on the part of bearded lead actor/director John Krasinski.


  • I was back in the office today and swamped. In the middle of the day, my sister texted me that the nursing home had sent Mom to the hospital, thinking that she's had another stroke. She had stopped talking and responding to people. The doctors believe that she's had a "mini-stroke," but I asked my sis if she though Mom had contracted another UTI, which caused a lot of her issues last year. They sent her back to the nursing home, as the doctors said that there wasn't anything else they could do. However, they did find out... she has another UTI. Hopefully, they can treat it and Mom will get closer to normal.


  • Tonight, I'm just exhausted, so it is just TV, watching the season finale of "Schitt's Creek" and reruns of "The Bionic Woman." I'm already looking forward to the weekend.


  • Lastly, but not least, happy birthday hugs to the somewhat invisible [profile] xianjessen ;)
kybearfuzz: (Happy Larry)
Over the weekend, LJ'er aceofspace came in for a visit. We goofed off on Friday, then drove to our hometown Saturday morning.

Our first stop in our hometown was to visit my mom at the nursing home. We found her doing a word search book in the common room by herself. It looks like the lunch rush had passed and she was just hanging out on her own.

During our discussion, she talked about how my dad used to joke about "Sweet Evening Breeze." Not knowing what that term meant, I asked her about it. Mom was dodgy on the topic and was whispering which made it even harder to hear her.

Based on what I could hear, I asked, "Is that a person?"

She replied in hushed tones, "Yes, you know, he was 'different.'"

"Different like me," I asked. Mom whispered that he was "gay."

I replied that "Sweet Evening Breeze" sounded like a drag queen name.

And it is! Sweet Evening Breeze was the drag persona of Lexington personality James Herndon, a very colorful, African American who was known to wear weomen's clothing in the 1950's. I was surprised to find this information online and pleasantly surprised to see that she was well-liked, even adored, in her native Lexington.

While I'm sure my dad joked about "Sweets" as she was referred to, the fact that he knew a drag queen in the 1950's impressed me a bit. I wish it were possible to ask my dad about her as he was always full of stories about the folks he met.

I never expected a drag history lesson at Mom's nursing home. It made for a fun visit.
kybearfuzz: (Dreaming)
This morning I woke up from a pretty cool dream. I was dreaming that I was walking through the first house my parents owned, the one I lived in for the first four years of my life. We moved from that house to the house next door, which was my grandparents' house, which was slightly larger. My older brother and his family lived in the original house for a while, then my cousin and his family lived there for a time who did some needed renovating. So, even though I left the house at four, I was in and out of the house for years after.

In my dream, workmen were in the house renovating it and I went room to room reminiscing about my life there. The actual house is a small, two bedroom-one bath home. The renovated home was oddly larger inside than outside, with new hardwood floors and endless closet space and hidden pathways.

I was curious whether the remodel was being done to sell the house. If so, I was thinking of buying it. The workman told me that the cost for renting the house was going to be $2000/month, which was outrageous for my small hometown, even if the house did bend the laws of physics in terms of space. In reality, if the little house was for sale, I actually would consider it, I think.

I'm sure the reason for the dream is that I'm driving to my hometown today.
kybearfuzz: (Me_2ndGrade)
So after running 3.5 miles yesterday, followed by 2 hours of pressure-washing the house exterior, I felt sore. Actually, I felt weirdly light-headed too, but attributed that to being dehydrated. After a shower and lunch, I took a nap and felt worse. The chills surprised me. I managed to crawl out of bed eventually and checked my temperature, which was 100.2 deg F. So I bundled up on the couch, took some ibuprofen, and settled in to catch "RuPaul's Drag Race All Stars." The fever broke before the top two lip-synced for their legacy (ugh, that just doesn't roll off the tongue easily).

I went to bed early, despite the nap. The dream I had last night was odd, but I don't think being sick was the cause. I dreamed of my first house, a small two-bedroom, one bath that was literally next door to the house I grew up in. My mom and dad lived there for six years, including my first four, before we moved.

114 Andrew Street Corbin KY
Courtesy of Google Maps

A realtor was showing the house and I asked if I could take a tour. She took me to the roof to enter, which was silly. We went back down and through the front door. The previous owner had obviously done some renovating. They had torn out the ceiling and created a vaulted ceiling to the roof. The living room was basically a show room of cabinets full of clothing and jewelry for sale. It was obviously a dream as the inside of the house was larger than the outside.

I looked the house up on Google maps this morning and saw the house had been remodeled. My cousin did the first remodel years ago, but it looks like the current owners did more. The elephant-ear trees had been cut down in the front yard. The stumps are still there.
kybearfuzz: (2011 Pride Shirt)
Besides photographs, I don't have a lot in my house from my days as a kid. One of the things I have managed to keep is a small white, dingy teddy bear known in my childhood as "Littl'un," a hillbilly truncation of the name "Little One."

Mom and BrotherThe teddy bear has a history. In late December 1973 or very early January 1974, the twin decided to get into the stuff under the sink and drank bleach (or Brasso, the story has been told both ways) and was taken to the hospital. The twin was in the hospital for several days, spending our first birthday there. This pic is Mom and the twin at the hospital. The little bear in the photo was a gift to him while he was there.

After he came home from the hospital, he seemed to have no interest in the bear. So Mom and Dad gave him to me, starting my life-long interest in bears, starting with the teddy variety then seguing into the more human version as an adult. Every year until I was 16, my mom got me a teddy bear for Christmas. I had quite a collection for the longest time, including a giant blue and white one called "76," named after a gas station where my dad bought him. It was about this time, the little white bear garnered his name "Little One."

After I left for college, my teddy bear collection was put away. After I graduated, I moved to Cincinnati then Kansas City. Mom and Dad moved out of our old house because of Dad's health and the house fell into a horrible state. On one of my trips home from Kansas City, I collected a few things of mine from the house, including Littl'un to make sure nothing happened to him and he's been in my custody ever since.

When I had that nasty bout with blood clots a few years back, my sister and twin came up to see me at the hospital. They stayed at my house overnight and noticed Littl'un resting on the bed in the spare bedroom. They couldn't believe that I still had him. I can't imagine why they'd think I'd NOT have him.

He's more off-white, than white. His paws are worn. He is missing an eye, most of the nose, etc., but it's how I remember him from my childhood. He's been drooled on, peed on, dragged outside and back. In reality, he's probably a toxic wasteland of baby germs. I'd throw him in the wash, but I don't think his body would hold up to the agitation. I've given him a thorough dousing with Lysol though.

He's a huge part of my history. It's strange how we imbue inanimate objects with so much of our lives. Like a kid, I worry about his comfort, which is why is sleeps on the spare bed and not on a shelf. I'm happy he's still here with me.

Little One
Littlun in His Natural Habitat
kybearfuzz: (Me_2ndGrade)
From 6th grade to my senior year in high school, I was part of an afterschool program called SOAR (Students with the Optimal Ability to Reason). Essentially, it was a chance for the smart kids in school to take a class in an odd or innovative area outside their normal school work. It met on Monday afternoons for an hour at our high school and usually involved some outside work between SOAR meetings.

SOAR Schedule 86-87


My mom found the original course schedule from the first year and gave it to me over the holidays. I was part of the program from the beginning, taking a school bus from my elementary school to the high school by myself every Monday. I was the only student from my elementary school to go that I remember. It made me feel very grown up to go to the high school. The only class I recall taking that year was typing.

[livejournal.com profile] aceofspace and I were both in the SOAR program, though our participation dwindled a bit when we were juniors and seniors in high school. By then, other activities like the school newspaper and the yearbook seemed to take precedence. Still, we took rocketry or something for the third or fourth time I think. My high school diploma has a seal on it from the SOAR program.

It was a neat program. In looking back, I wish I had taken other classes, like German. I swapped out of the Media class because it involved speaking in front of groups, which terrified me at the time. This particular Media class was taught by a man named Roger Marcum, a tall kind man with a thick black mustache, who intimidated the heck out of me for some reason. He tried to get me to stay, recognizing that I needed to get out of my shy shell I think, but I dodged him quickly. In the few classes I had with him there, he walked around with his fly open for a good ten minutes, the class snickering until he figured it out. He laughed about it, asking why no one had told him. The guy eventually became the chairman of the Kentucky Board of Education, so I know he knew his stuff.

I’m not even sure they still do this program, but it was a nice taste of college for me, getting to pick and choose different courses to take for fun. I’m surprised my mom still had this to be honest.
kybearfuzz: (Santa Naughty)
I haven't posted much in the last week because I was out in my hometown for the holidays. While I have internet access on my phone, it's not easy to make LJ entries on it.

My best friend Brian and I went on Monday night to see the new Star Wars movie, which was a wonderful mix of nostalgia and newness. The story was captivating and mirrored a lot of what I recall from the original Star Wars Episode IV film. No spoilers, but I was incredibly entertained and am already looking forward to the next installment.

I had a pretty good time back home, spending time with friends and family. What surprised me the most was the weather, which was ridiculously warm. Christmas Eve was 73 degrees F and sunny all day. It certainly didn't feel like Christmas-time.

As usual, I did need a bit of "me time," so I snuck off a couple of times to the local coffee shop to get myself a bit centered and do a bit of cartooning.

357 - Checking It Twice 358 - Showtime

Obviously, I had Santa on the brain. I enjoyed doing these and the coffee shop was a great respite from the holiday craziness.

Last night, my family unwrapped Christmas gifts as we usually do. I bought my 9-year-old nephew the game Simon. He continued to unwrap toy after toy, including a go-cart, and he kept coming back to the Simon game, as did my other nephew... and my brother... and my brother-in-law. It was ironic to see this kid get so much for Christmas and ignore the expensive for a relatively cheap game.

After breakfast with family, I headed home today. It felt good to get home.

Merry Christmas everyone!
kybearfuzz: (Santa Naughty)
Whew! I just got home. Overall, Christmas went very well back in my hometown. I'm still a bit wiped out from jumping from house to house as I usually do, but Mom was in fairly good spirits all things considered. What really made me laugh was unwrapping presents last night at the twin's house. My 8-year-old nephew Bradyn has a really smart mouth and it gets him in trouble with his parents. He comes by it honestly as the twin's mouth was (and is) pretty much the same way. Here are the two examples that left me laughing when I shouldn't have been:

The twin was getting irritated when my nephew was acting all hyper and huffy, so he told him to sit down on the couch next him.

The twin: Sit down! You sit down right here and don't you move! (The nephew complies reluctantly)
Twin's wife: (from the kitchen) Bradyn, come in the kitchen for a minute!
Nephew: (sarcastically) Caaaannnn't!

Later, after everyone had eaten and we'd unwrapped presents, I saw my nephew had gone to the kitchen and made himself some pop tarts. I've long learned to shrug my shoulders at anything he does, so I said nothing. His mom came by a moment later and made comment.

Twin's Wife: Bradyn! Why are you eating a pop tart??
Nephew: (insert eye roll here) I'm not eating A pop tart. I'm eating TWO pop tarts!

Yeah, my twin deserves every minute of this.

Merry Christmas everyone! :)

Homecomings

Nov. 9th, 2014 09:24 am
kybearfuzz: (Patsy)
It's been a very busy weekend. And it's been a lot of fun too.

Me and the Sibs
The Sibs and Me

My trips to my hometown are fairly quick. I drove down on Friday morning and hung out with Mom for a bit, then went over to my sister's house. Later, my sibs and I went to dinner and I dragged them to the local coffee shop downtown afterward. It really is an oasis of sorts among the usual conservative nature of the town. With a bearded hottie folk singing in the corner, we each had various coffees (including some of the alcoholic variety). I'm not sure my brother was taken with it, but my sister and brother-in-law liked it. I'm surprised they never went there. I even had to tell my brother where it was and he lives there.

The next morning, I got up and headed to Berea College where it was my 20th homecoming. I was sort of pulled into a science presentation about the effects of sleep on health. It was interesting, but I had to bail to meet with my class for pics. I ran into my buddies Greg and Carla, both alumni from my class, and their son Edmund. All of us hung out the rest of the day. After a few hours, it got late and we parted company. I needed to drop of a laptop to my nephew and was planning on taking him to dinner. Oh, his dorm room is a wreck, mainly due to his roommate, I think. No dinner though as he had plans to "game" with some local guys, so I drove him to the gaming place and decided to head home.

This morning, I woke up to sound of Maggie the Cat meowing her head off. Not sure what is up with her.

It was a good weekend, but now I'm worn out. I think it'll be a take it easy sort of day.
kybearfuzz: (Dreaming)

I had an odd dream last night. Not freaky as they usually are, but interesting.

I *think* I was back in college and I was planning a project to test creek water for heavy metals. The creek I had chosen was Lynn Camp Creek, which is the creek that I basically played in growing up. It’s not a small body of water for the most part, as it runs through my hometown and extends as far as a couple of towns to the North and South. It is very wide and shallow in some places, and narrower and deep in others. When it rains it can really fill up. Kids are fascinated by running water and I was no exception to that. I loved playing near that creek, catching crawdads and the occasional catfish. The feeling of mud and moss squishing through your toes is actually very satisfying.

Engineer Street Bridge
Engineer Street Bridge over Lynn Camp Creek, Corbin, KY


Anyway, back to the dream. When I ran this plan to the mayor’s office, they balked and said I couldn’t do the testing. Now why I needed their permission to sample water from a public creek I’ll never know. I easily could just go to the county portions outside the city limits and ignore them anyway. Undeterred, I’d already mapped out where I was going to sample and even included on the diagram the locations where I’d fallen in as a kid. This part is real by the way, as you can’t play near water on a nearly daily basis as a kid and not occasionally slip.

Before I could get the plan into action, I’d stopped by the lab to check on the analytical part of my plan and ran into my sister who was a scientist there too. This part is pure fiction. My sis hated chemistry.

The dream didn’t go anywhere after that. I woke up and was in a rush to work or I’d have posted this earlier with more details. It was a good dream nevertheless.

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

kybearfuzz: (Star Boy)
Trick-or-treaters were not out in mass last night. I bought 10 lbs of Tootsie Rolls and assorted candy and still have 2/3 of it left. I think I had about a dozen kids and I encouraged them to grab handful after handful. Sigh... I brought the rest to work so my co-workers will hopefully eat it.

Shake that money maker for daddyI did find that sometimes enticement was needed to get the kids to the door. With the porch light on, I left the front door slightly ajar, so Murphy the Cat would plop himself down between it and the screen door. Kids saw Murphy and yelled "KITTY!" and came up. That's right, I whored my cat out to attract the kids. Don't judge. I had candy to be rid of. I'm not ashamed.

Between the sparse visits, I was watching my DVR'd shows and getting goofy texts from my sister. They went something like this:

Sis: "Happy Halloweenie to my favorite weenie!"
Me: "Happy Halloweenie!!"
Sis: "Weenie!"
Me: "You are what you eat, you know."
Sis: "LOL. True. Guess that makes us both weenies. Lol."
Me: "LOL! I've had four treaters in 30 minutes. Going to be a slow night."
Sis: "Haha. I've had zero. I never have any. Woohoo. Good thing 'cause all I got to give em is some bacon and maybe a couple of tomatoes."
Me: "LOL! Glad you're prepared!! ;-)"

Geez! It's November! Brrr!
kybearfuzz: (Pensive)
The Kids
Mom's Five Kids, January 2000 (L to R)
Joe, Ronnie, Rhonda, Donnie, and Me


Last night around 1 AM, my older brother Donnie passed away from cancer in a crowded hospital room at the age of 54.

Donnie and his twin Ronnie have always followed each other. If one moved away, the other would soon follow. When one moved home, the other was there in months. Ronnie died in his sleep about two years ago. Donnie almost immediately started going downhill. I can't fathom how losing an identical twin must affect a person, but as in life Donnie followed Ronnie.

At his request, Donnie is being cremated with no funeral. We will have a family get-together to bury his ashes in the coming weeks when all the family can be here.
kybearfuzz: (Opus Flying)
"... God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson, Heaven holds a place for those who pray..."

The Mrs. Robinson in this instance wasn't a seducer, but a math teacher, my math teacher from 7th grade Geometry. Her name was Alex Robinson, which was probably the first time I encountered a woman with a man's name. In my mind she was old, but then I was 12 and she was in her early 50's. It's always the perception of the young.

A shorter lady with dark short hair and glasses, she was funny, but stern; witty, but explosive; good natured, yet terrifying. Her class was often fascinating to sit through. Not only did you learn, but you were entertained by her. If a student turned his or her back to her to talk to the person sitting behind, the room would get silent. She was like a tiger ready to pounce. Her favorite schtick was to throw chalk or a dust-filled eraser at the student. She would get in this stance, check third base over her shoulder, wind up the pitch, and let it fly. With the keen instincts of a military sharp-shooter, she rarely missed her target. The overall effect drew shock from the student and laughs from the class.

Nowadays, she'd be up on charges of assault and possibly harrassment, but that's just how times have changed. No student was ever hurt, just a bit humiliated, and even then not always. Some wore the chalk dust impression on their clothes as a badge of honor, like a war wound you couldn't help but show to your friends.

Sometime during junior high I made some wise@$$ crack to her in an effort to be funny and Mrs. Robinson got mad at me for a little while. I don't recall what I said, but I have always regretted getting on her bad side, even for a little while. Kids do stupid things, and I admit that I learned a valuable lesson from it. And maybe that was her point in being angry with me.

I read on an online blog from my hometown last night a story of how a student's mother had gone to her and complained about her son's grades. "How could he have gotten a 'C' on this test?" the mother asked. Mrs. Robinson took a step back and exclaimed, "Well, what do you expect!!?" I wish I had that on tape to show some of the parents I know who would have foolishly asked the same question.

A couple of years ago, I saw her at Wal-Mart. She looked very much the same as I remembered her, a little grayer maybe. She told me of her grandkids, her sons, etc. She seemed to be a very happy person. Ironically, my brother and I were reminiscing about her to his neighbor just last week while I was home.

I'm sad she's gone, passing away last week from cancer. It's a sign of getting older, I guess, when the fanciful people from your past start to fade away. I am proud to say that I was one of her students. I wish I could throw chalk at a young person right now in her honor.

God bless you please indeed, Mrs. Robinson.
kybearfuzz: (Bill the Cat)
First, Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. I hope that everyone has traveled safely if they traveled and can unbutton their britches to relieve the pressure from eating way too much. I certainly know that feeling, thankfully. I've been to my hometown and back in the last two days. There have been a few fun little things happen over the days, which made it a great time.

Cut for brevity )

And it's good to be home after three hours of driving, two of which in the pouring rain. Work tomorrow. Hopefully an easy day.
kybearfuzz: (Default)
Me on the Bridge
On the Bridge

I drove home yesterday in food-induced stupor. Why is that all the good things have to be so bad for you? Tryptophan-laden turkey, buttery mashed potatoes, salty cornbread stuffing, and the syrupy-goodness that is pecan pie. I was beat when I got home after the three-hour drive, but it did give me a chance to unwind in a sense. While I love visiting family, I love sleeping in my own bed more.

Hometown Museum Coming SoonOn Wednesday, I did run about town and take a few photos. The bridge above is an old bridge from the turn of the 20th century. My grandfather played on it as a child and the town restored and preserved it as a pedestrian bridge this past year. It's one of the more pleasant changes about town.

I'm not so sure about this museum that will be opening soon though. I think this used to be a small grocery and suspect the mummies may be made from left over store manikins and two-ply Charmin.

On a historical maintenance note, I was chatting on my laptop for a bit on Wednesday in the town library. While there, the dancer guy from this entry was there, sitting at a table across the way. I'm not sure if he recognized me or not, but the dragon tattoo on his forehead that I noted last summer is still there. I guess it's not temporary. Wow...

Did I mention that it's really good to be home?
kybearfuzz: (Default)
Queenie BeeFor some reason, I thought of this image earlier this week and had a tough time remembering where I'd seen it. I knew it was from my childhood. It's Queenie Bee, the character from the Burger Queen restaurant chain. I'm not sure how far-reaching this chain was, but they're only a handful left and the character seemed to vanish when the chain became "Druthers." I wasn't sure a bee was the best character though, they're hardly cuddly, but you have to love her big 70's hairdo.

I found out today that the fourth season of Charlie's Angels is being released on DVD next month. This is the first season without Kate Jackson (sadly), but I always felt that Shelley Hack did a great job as an angel, certainly better than Tanya Roberts did in the forgettable fifth. I'll be picking it up (the fourth not the fifth).

Agent SugarmanI finally picked up my comics this week after being out of town. A welcome surprise at the comic book shop was finding Resident Evil, starring a burly mercenary named Holiday Sugarman. I'm enjoying the story and I love the artwork for obvious reasons.

Why more comic book characters aren't drawn with facial hair is a mystery (though Wonder Woman with a beard would be scary). It does inspire me to draw more. The first two issues of the six are already available.
kybearfuzz: (Me_2ndGrade)
I started going to the city pool when I was around four years old. It was within walking distance of my house and from the front yard I could see teenagers diving off the high dive and listen to clatter of the bouncing diving board. My dad took my brother, sister, and I there after hours (he was a buddy of the manager) and we got our first swim with no one else.

The pool became a staple of our childhood summers, being so close and relatively inexpensive, my mom had no problem letting us walk to the pool and spend the day. The pool was many firsts for me. I saw my first naked woman when I accidentally walked into the ladies locker room at age 6. I saw my first naked man pretty much just by going in the men's side. My first real crush was Kenny, the furry lifeguard who was a shorter, stocky version of Tom Selleck.

While the twin was doing acrobatics off the high dive and the sister was sunning herself to a dark brown, I was acting like I was flying under the water, seeing how long I could hold my breath, and admiring the older brothers of some of my sister's friends, those who had already gone through puberty and started sprouting beards and chest hair.

Today was my first visit to the pool in easily 16 years. I was the oldest person there, older than the kids, older than the lifeguards. The pool only had a handful of patrons today. I enjoyed not having to leave the pool during the breaks and swimming in the twelve foot end. I did way too many cannonballs off the high dive, so many that my butt is actually sore from smacking the water repeatedly (awaiting jokes). After 90 minutes of constant swimming, I gave it up and left. It was good to revisit an old memory of sorts and sad that I walked away with a bruised rear end, proof that I am a bit too old to keep doing cannonballs.

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