Changing The Lives Of Others

June 19, 2017 Leave a comment

I’ve blogged in the past about being blamed for ruining some peoples’ lives. I debunked the accusations by pointing out that they were getting a free ride from me, while they had little to offer in return. Therefore, when I moved on, and spent less and less time with them, they blamed me for ruining their lives. I guess they were pissed off that they were going to have to get their own cars, boats, cottages, and all. Tough!

I might be able to claim some positive points because I’ve changed some lives for the better. A family was fragmented, there was an ocean between some of them, and when I was attracted into it, several benefits ensued.

I was divorced, and had put a little free ad on ‘Friend Finders’, and it was very effective. I was enjoying several dates each week, and frequent sleepovers. One day I received a response that was different from most.

“I am a doctor in Budapest,” she wrote. Obviously, she was of interest. I thought of her as exotic. In truth, I always hoped to date a doctor. I assumed she would be knowledgeable about the body and how to enjoy it. I also have always hoped I’d have a European lover. I feel that Europeans are more sensual than are North  American women. It’s just an assumption based on personal experience.

This Hungarian doctor was planning to visit a city where I’d lived. She was taking a rare trip to visit her only child, a son, during the Christmas holidays. The boy had moved with his father to my city, for a better life. The boy was just 20, and worked very hard to support himself and his father. He also educated himself and got a job. His father was a chemist, but ill health kept him from working.

The lady doctor is very intelligent, and did a lot of work to communicate with me in English. To help her understand my writing in the many emails she received, I spoke the same words as I wrote, so she could follow the meanings. We began to fall in love on line, even before we met. I was not eager to marry again, and I was having a very satisfying social life. Still, the doctor proved to be wonderful.

To be sure of our feelings, I went to Budapest when the doctor was back home, and stayed with her for six weeks. It went well. I went home to sort things out, and moved to Budapest. I was not able to diminish my love for her because she was so damn smart she was able to patch any leaks I might cause in the relationship.

There was some more flying back and forth over the Atlantic Ocean, some high drama getting Hungarian permission to marry, and finally the paperwork was done. Several more adventures took place, but I want to get to my point.

The doctor retired, she married me in a village on the banks of the Danube, we flew home the next day, and the day after that we moved into our cabin in the forest.

As a result, the loving mother who had been separated from her only child for two decades now had Mom close by. He had me, her Mom’s husband, as a helping hand when his father was unable to.

His life more stabilized, her son married. We moved to a house in the village where her son and his wife lived. They had a baby. My wife was a grandmother, living a couple of blocks from her grandchild. Her son and his wife each had important day jobs, so my wife and I got to participate in raising the child. She spent every weekday in our home, being cared for and taught every day.

After the baby started school, we still had her for about 3 hours every day after school.

So how did I make some lives better? Well a 40 year old son had his mother with him most every day, after 20 years apart. His mother has a grandchild that is with her for part of about 300 days a year. The child’s mother can pursue her goals and have some personal time.

I’m happy as hell, because I love being part of the child’s life, and being accepted as her ‘Papi’, or grandfather. Her biological grandfathers are unable to see her often. My own children elected to be childless, so the stepchild is a dream come true.

As for the marriage, we’re in the 15th year of our honeymoon.

Dr. Huxtable, Please Stop!

June 17, 2017 Leave a comment

I assume the Bill Cosby hung jury is because some jurists just didn’t want to tarnish the ‘America’s Dad’ image. I sympathize with that. I loved Cosby’s stand up acts, when he was just out of college. I guess I saw him on late night talk shows in those days.

Later, he was co-staring with Robert Culp in a mock cop show. I think it was called ‘I Spy’. I liked the show and the actors, and it hurts to think that Bill Cosby was drugging and raping women during those years. Why would he? Perhaps his personal kink is that the woman has to be inert. It’s abnormal, but it’s been heard of.

I was expecting, and hoping, that the prosecution would not retry Cosby. He’s guilty, and he’s old and somewhat blind, so what would the law do to him? If they would elect not to retry, the kids that loved the Fat Albert cartoons and other comedy things that Bill Cosby created, could continue to be cool with Dr. Huxtable.

The Lisper of Bright Street

June 15, 2017 Leave a comment

Bright sign

The row houses that line Bright Street were built in 1898. The front of each house was built with beautiful clay bricks, laid with precision by skilled stonemasons. They are not large houses, and most became homes for people who worked in the surrounding industries.

After 100 years of devolution, the homes were on the cusp of being demolished. A real estate developer with a bit of imagination bought up the whole street, in 1998. He brought the homes up to date, with beautiful interiors and contemporary utilities, and offered them for sale. Of course, the close proximity to the business district and public transportation made them very desirable to young management professionals.

Bright Street

Milo Coccio was One of the last people to move into a home on Bright Street. His unit was between homes owned by single women; Jennifer Dodge on his left and Lana Munroe on his right. They first saw Mr. Coccio on a Saturday morning, when he was moving in. Milo sat beside a woman who was driving the minivan that pulled up in front of his new home.

Jennifer Dodge was sitting on her small porch in the morning sunshine, reading Senator Al Franken’s book, ‘Lies and Lying Liars Who Tell Them’. She was slight in build, with pale skin and blue eyes behind dark glasses. She wore white satin pyjamas under a matching robe. She watched with interest as the woman and Milo Coccio carried boxes into the house. She assumed they were a couple.

Seated on her front steps smoking a joint, Lana Munroe saw the couple moving in too, but she could see the family resemblance and assumed they were siblings. Every item that she could see, from the van to the house, was a man’s item. She saw no female items going into the house. She wondered why a big, good-looking man was moving into a carriage trade home all alone. She assumed he was either divorced or gay, although he showed no sign of gayness, but that doesn’t really mean anything.

The next morning was warm and sunny. Lana was seated on her steps smoking a joint, just as she had been the previous day. Milo Coccio stepped out onto his small porch.

“Welcome to the neighbourhood,” Lana called out happily.

“Thank you,” said Milo. He turned and went back into his home. Lana put the remainder of her joint into a coffee can and left for her job at the soda bottling plant, just a few blocks away. As soon as she was gone, Milo took a folding chair onto his porch and sat in the sun. He looked at the separate homes across the street, and envied them their garden.

Jennifer Dodge was sweeping her porch when she saw Milo.

“Good morning,” she said. “I’m Jennifer, welcome to Bright Street.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m Milo.”

“Nice to meet you, Milo,” she said. “If you need anything, a cup of sugar or something, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you,” said Milo.

“You don’t have much to say, do you?” said Jennifer.

“No,” said Milo. “I am embarrathed by my thpeech impediment. Don’t be offended, but I’d really rather not be asthed to thpeak.”

Lana and Jennifer formed a pact. They would work together to get Milo Coccio out from behind his self-imposed wall of silence. He should get from society the kind of life a handsome, single man should have, lisp or not.

The Human Need for Stupid Stunts

June 10, 2017 1 comment

Bernie and I were both 17 years old. He was a couple of months older than I was, and we were close pals. In fact, our steady girlfriends were identical twins, one with him and one with me. We eventually married the twins, but that’s another story.

One night, Bernie and I went out to the quiet, wide highway 400 to do a stupid stunt. It was in the 1950s, when cars were huge. I was driving my father’s massive, cream coloured ’57 Buick Roadmaster. Bernie was driving his Aunt Lillian’s dark blue ‘53 Cadillac Coup de Ville. We roared up the empty highway at 3:30 one morning. We went side by side, Bernie on my left, me on his right. I powered down my window as did Bernie’s then girlfriend, and I reached to her and she took my hand. We roared up the road at about 100 miles an hour (160 km/h), two feet apart, holding hands, for no reason except the big V8 engines could do it.

The drive for stupid stunts must be quite strong in some people’s DNA.

In Toronto and Montreal, and perhaps other cities with subways, young people leap onto the exterior of the subway car and cling to the side as the train roars through the dark tunnels. I haven’t heard if anyone’s been killed or injured yet, but it is inevitable. Why do they do it? Perhaps they believe they’re showing courage and skill, although it’s actually reckless and foolish.

We scuba dive amid predators; we race cars; we ride motorcycles across deserts; we sail boats across oceans, for sport. Some of us need the challenge, the risk, the adrenaline dose that comes with pressure or anxiety.

I’ve done a good deal of auto racing, and ridden some motorcycles, and even did a fair amount of hang gliding. I enjoyed all of it, although I don’t really know why, except for the ‘stone’ one enjoys when the adrenaline sharpens all the senses. We see better, we hear more acutely, and our bodies feel fit and strong. I now get a good feeling from reading, writing, drawing and commenting on others’ works.

If one lives past the age of reckless foolishness, one learns the value of deeper activities.

Fear is not Respect

June 9, 2017 Leave a comment

I remember hearing the expression, “God fearing person.” I interpret that to mean that one had better toe the line on god’s rules. I’ve heard tough, muscled bikers declare that they have respect from the people. He means fear, just as does the god devoted. I suspect that dedicated Christian people sometimes attend church out of fear that they might be damned for not attending services. That’s why religion, in general, is bunk. Christians are supposed to believe in gentleness, generosity, and living simply.

There are millions of so-called Christians living high and handsomely, not simply. Why?

Through the media, most people know that gangsters, mobsters, and Mafia soldiers are very proud that they are respected by the community. That’s a lot of crap. One night they beat the crap out of a guy who owns a little restaurant. He likes his current supplier of smoked meats, but cowards pretending to be brave have to make him change suppliers, so they beat him. They threaten his family. The neighbourhood knows about it, so they act respectful to the thugs. But it’s just an act. It’s actually fear. They would rather pee on the punks’ shoes, but they’d get beaten.

Real respect is earned, not demanded. A dedicated doctor deserves – and receives – respect, with no fear involved. Clergymen, authors, artists, musicians all can earn respect in their own ways. Thugs and people with guns deserve fear, not respect.

Boobs, Bellies, and Butts

June 5, 2017 Leave a comment

My question to myself is; ‘why do I like the way it feels to see an attractive woman?” I wonder why my eyes linger for a moment on an attractive breast profile. I’ve been enjoying women for many decades, and still, a woman’s well-shaped ass is strangely, a pleasant sight. A smooth belly, showing between low-rise jeans and a short tank top provides a nice feeling when I see it. But why? It makes me feel like an idiot. I should be ‘way past that.

The reason why women like to groom and dress to show themselves well is obvious; it makes me, and several million other men, feel good when we see it. I imagine the same holds true for lesbians. I’m told that some women find some men’s butts attractive. That’s interesting to me. A physical feature that is virtually the same in male and female versions – the ass – is attractive to all opposite sexes.

Breasts might be attractive because they suckled us in infancy, and perhaps we react from an inner memory of safety and nourishment. In that case, women should also find breasts attractive. They, too, were suckled in infancy. Do heterosexual women find breasts attractive? I can easily imagine that they do. My personal preference has always been for smaller breasts. I don’t know why.

Male and female bellies are similar, except that female navels are higher on the belly than are those of males. My curiosity continues; why do I like it? I like the way most women wear necklines that reveal cleavage. I like the trend toward belly exposure, and I like the tights that are everywhere. They show women’s bodies as if they are naked and painted the colour of the tights, or leggings, or whatever they’re called. They’re great to see! But why?

Of course, there are attractive eyes, lips, hair, legs, voices, and fragrances, no doubt about it. At the same time, during the current fashion era, boobs, bellies, and butts lead the way. I’m sure I’m never going to understand the impulses that rise from the sight of an attractive, nicely turned out woman, and I wish they’d stop already. I’m eighty.

My final word is (this is strictly personal), when I see an attractive woman that has all the requisite features, with added piercings and tattoos, the attractive aspects dissolve. That woman is not attractive to me. I’m sure she doesn’t care, and that’s good.

Locked Eyes with a Stranger

June 3, 2017 Leave a comment

I’m sure every mature person has experienced it. You’re walking up a busy downtown street after work. You’re satisfied with how your day went, you’re in no hurry to get home, so you’re enjoying a summer day in the city, as the sun gravitates to the west. A black person (male or female, depending on your preference) comes around the corner in front of you.

Your eyes lock, and in less than a second, the minds of both people scan through a list of familiar analyses. “That’s interesting; good looking; kind of sexy; nice body; moves well; I would have sex with that person.” You pass shoulder to shoulder in silence. The moment has passed.

A man walks into a large store. He seeks some parts for plumbing repairs, but can’t find the plumbing department. He sees a woman, and on her back she’s wearing the store’s logo, so she might help. He touches her shoulder.

“Excuse me,” he says. She turns and their eyes lock. In that instant, flames seemed to fill both chests. It’s amazing, immediate passion for both parties. The woman tries to turn her eyes away from his eyes, but they spring back for a second look. At the same time, the man is trying to ignore the sexual impulse and speak. At last the woman looks away, and the man asks her for directions to plumbing supplies.

The woman is tongue tied, and can barely say “Come.” She moves past him and leaves her department to escort him to plumbing supplies. Following her, he sees that her shape and movements are as enticing as her face and eyes.

She is wondering, “what am I feeling? I could get into trouble with this man”. He is wondering, “this is incredible. Should I make a move on her? I think she feels the same. What if it’s only me, and she just sees me as another schmuck customer”.

She arrives at the plumbing department, waves her hand in the direction of the aisle and takes off back to her department. He gets his plumbing parts and leaves the store without seeing that woman again. He never forgets her, and wonders if she also remembers the moment. She does, and both individuals regret that they let the magic moment pass.

A woman is standing at the vegetable display in a large supermarket. She is opening the small plastic bag that the store makes available in fruit and vegetable departments. From behind her, a man’s voice says, “how does one open these things?” The woman turns, holding her own bag, to demonstrate. She sees his face, their eyes lock, and in an instant, each is aware that they would accept the other as a lover. But not in a vegetable department of a supermarket.

She licks her fingertips and deftly slides the thin plastic bag open. The man copies her actions and opens his bag. He wants to carry on with her, but fears rejection. He goes to the fruit department, and doesn’t see the woman again.