Don't Get Around Much Anymore

Me and friends at the Purple Parrot in Rehoboth Beach, pre COVID.

"Don't Get Around Much Anymore", one of my favorite lyrics from one of my favorite songs sung by Dinah Washington. An old Fats Waller blues song. 

 This photo was taken a few years ago at the Purple Parrot in Rehoboth Beach when Randy Hiltner, a blogger friend from Nebraska visited me. 

These days yours truly doesn't do much socializing like this. In fact I don't do any socializing like this. 

Since I've been caregiving for Bill two and half years ago I'm pretty much restricted to our home here in southern coastal Delaware. And of course this summer with the Summer Tourist Hordes free of COVID restrictions, I don't even get down to Rehoboth Beach, which is only ten miles down the road (good old Route One also known as Coastal Highway - takes you right to Florida if you keep driving).

At first I felt restricted but not so much now. I've pretty much fallen to a daily routine that is actually somewhat comforting. 

Bill still needs constant care but he is not bedridden nor is he in pain. He's off home hospice care (he can go back on anytime though should he start to go downhill fast). 

Because of his eyesight (macular degeneration) he can't see to do anything like the projects he used to so love. Our big "event" of the day is the Daily Ride, usually to Food Lion, our local supermarket. 

This daily ride is getting to be more and more of a challenge because DelDot is working on the intersection of Rt. 16 and Route One, the last red light from Dover to Rehoboth Beach. For some reason I can't fathom, "they" don't want any red lights from Dover to Rehoboth Beach. A straight shot for the Summer Tourist Hordes. How we will ever get out of our development here onto Route One I don't even want to contemplate. 

I do have a back way to Food Lion in Milton but they were working on that road this morning too. One thing about Delaware as opposed to our previous home in Pennsylvania, they always seem to be "working on the roads" down here, almost always making more lanes for folks moving to Delaware the Land Of Low Taxes and Mild Climate. One thing about living here in Coastal Southern Delaware, summer home of President Biden (only four miles south of Casa Tipton-Kelly) is the area is constantly growing. In fact we're growing so fast we may even eventually have a Trader Joe's and a Wegmans! Right now we have a bunch of overprices wannabes, although Food Lion is quite reasonable. They have everything I need but I do miss the "Wegmans Experience" (as the wife of my former dentist who also moved to Delaware said). 

There was a time when I first moved down here to Delaware that I had quite a social life. Every Wednesday night was "Old Fart's Night Out" with my friends Bob M., Jim O. and Bart R.

I'm a bit more fragile at this time of my life. Unsteady on my feet and my endurance level is dropping rapidly. Every night I plan to sit down and watch one of my Netflix movies but by the time 10 or 11 rolls around, I'm wiped out. 

Caregiving takes its toll on this eight-one year old body. Bill and I used to share the house chores but because of his condition, I take care of everything now and I mean EVERYTHING. This morning the water aerator on his bathroom faucet gave out. First thing I did was call Service Today. But this time I was trying to avoid another huge bill. Remember a few weeks ago when our garbage disposal wasn't working? I called Service Today. They came out and in less than a minute "fixed" it by pushing the reset button. The cost? $49 just to come out and a $125 "evaluation" fee. I was trying to avoid another one of these costly mistakes so when I called this morning I asked if I could join the visit with my annual plumbing service. I told him ("Jamal") my problem from my last call and I just wanted to avoid another huge payment. He told me that I could "just screw off the aerator and get another one from Home Depot or a place like that for only a few dollars." That I did and viola! I went to my local Ace Hardware (two rides for Bill today) and got a new aerator for $4.69! Good news! I even put it on myself. I'm getting to be so butch these days with my new handyman skills. Don't get worked up though, I'll never be a real handyman, cooking is my thing. I like saving money being a handyman but I don't really care for that kind of work. Not my thing man.

Bill gets so frustrated these days. In normal times, way back when, he would have fixed that faucet in no time flat. Well, I consider myself lucky that he was able to do all the handyman work around here for all the years (over fifty) that he did. But the new reality is that these days all the work is on me. That's probably why I'm exhausted at the end of the day.

Somedays when I have a particularly hard day I think back to my Mother when she was raising me and my two younger brothers all by herself. 

Me (far right with hand over eyes shielding from sun) and my two younger brothers at 120 Washington Avenue about 1947)

This was during World War II. My father was a long distance truck driver (cross country) and would be gone for weeks at a time. She was on her own with three rambunctious boy who were always hungry. Many times she didn't have enough money to feed us. We didn't starve but I remember always being hungry. I think that's where I got my candy habit when I began my paper route when I was ten years old. I spend all the money (about $5 a week) on candy and comic books. When I was old enough I started to help her by washing the dishes and cleaning our dump of an apartment which is still there by the way. I just pulled a picture of it from the Internet this morning. 

120 Washington Avenue, Downingtown, PA (we lived on the second floor front) - Now you know why I MUST have some land around me

Hasn't changed much from when we lived there from 1944 to 1953. Rent was $22.50 a month, cockroaches included. I wonder if the cockroaches are still there. It's still in the White Trash section of Downingtown though. Yeah, we were White Trash. And everyone in school knew it. I couldn't shake that identification until I left home when I joined the Army at eighteen years of age. Hillbilly dad (for real, North Carolina Pigeon Roost didn't even wear shoes until he was ten years old when his family moved him and his eight brothers to Pennsylvania to work as farm labor on an uncle's fruit and vegetable farm, two more brothers born in Pennsylvania) and a mother of Quaker descent (Quakers weren't rich but they do have manners, which my Mother taught me).

When I lived in that apartment at eight years old I had to share a bed with my sixteen year old orphaned uncle. 

1950 U S. Census

That's right both of my grandparents were dead by then and he had no place to live until he finished high school. Of course after school he joined the service (Air Force). This is what we Tiptons do, hillbilly kids who didn't have that College Path set for them by their parents. We join one of the branches of the armed forces. Both of my brothers and I joined the Army for three year stints after we got out of school. I eventually did get an Associates degree on the G. I. Bill in business management at a small college in Philadelphia. 

Notice that I'm rambling this morning folks? Well I am and I'm about to end this particular ramble. Sometimes I have to do these rambles to remind myself how lucky I am to have had the wonderful life I have had and continue to have, even if I don't get around much anymore.