Duncan's Blog

The union president and I sat down with the Chief Executive Officer of the medical center to work on an MOU for employee parking...

The union president retired from the agency 10 months ago. She paid her dues (no pun intended). She had a brilliant career, and she is biding her time while she waits for her term of office to end. Don't look at me! I sure as heck don't want the job.

We are signing a memorandum of understanding and are working on the final draft. The president is Cantonese. The CEO is Vietnamese. The president lets everyone know that 'Chinese food' is king and that 'Chinese food' is virtually impossible to find in Chinese restaurants in the USA. Yes, I'm sure there are places where the Chinese eat... those restaurants that are often closed to private, catered events or that have menus only written in Chinese. You will see large groups that look like family sitting at a round table with a lazy Susan in the middle. And at some point, the oldest, shortest woman at the table rises and commences the process of doling out hot soup one by one based on age and rank in the hierarchy.

Anyway, the Cantonese president wanted to know if the CEO had a recipe for Vietnamese clay pot catfish. He did. Apparently, he is a weekend chef. And he talked about ways to cut the fish and what to do with the head. And even though I am no stranger to the kitchen, and I have pretty decent slicing and dicing skills with the onion, I felt so totally out of my element. I also wondered why she was so willing to spend our precious and valuable time with this line of questioning.

She said she was tired of Phó and she wanted to branch out, but she didn't even know where to eat. I had suggested she look for a restaurant with a blue 'A' in the window. Not that the Department of Health is all that objective in our county.

Anyway, we got to speak a little longer. I doubt I will ever seek catfish.

Kitty is 15 years my senior and her split-level home in the Valley and is at risk for falls.

Who is Kitty? Kitty is one of those people who came into my life in a way that frequently happens, but has no name for it. She was a friend of a friend. Now, normally, one can just leave it at that. But sometimes when one meets a friend of a friend, there are different things that can happen with the acquaintanceship.

* You can remain acquaintances,
* You can develop a friendship,
* You can tell your mutual friend that you don't want to be around his/__/their/her friend,
* You can make sure you are never in this acquaintance's company.

Sometimes your decision might be based on what later happens to the original friend you had in common...

* That friend might cease being your friend,
* That friend might case being the acquaintance's friend,
* That friend might cease being a friend to both of you,
* That friend might die

In the case of Kitty and me, our mutual friend died. And I've known Kitty 38 or 39 years, so...

Kitty worked for many years as a counselor who tested children for psycho-social behaviors and/or academic and cognitive abilities. Too bad she didn't have the skill set when she was courting her first/ex- husband. But that's a story for another day.

She didn't seem to know what the difference was between a 55+ community and assisted living. I told her that the former was some sort of housing (apartments, duplexes, attached or detached homes, trailers, etc.) that rent or lease to persons of a certain age. They often have age restrictions on those who cohabitate with the renter or lessee. I explained to her that the 55+ community is probably the highest level of independent living. The resident is responsible for feeding, clothing, toileting, and pretty much all aspects of self-care. Assisted living offers a room or rooms similar to an apartment. It may come furnished or unfurnished. It often has housekeeping service and prepares meals. Depending on one's needs, they can also assist folks with their medication administration.

There are times when I think of that kind of a life for me. My bungalow home is 103 years old. It has certain charms that looked cute and attractive when I bought it back when I was 42 years old. But narrow door frames are not good for bringing in appliances or moving about if you use a wheelchair or a rollator. Wiring is old and the phone company doesn't want to service its landlines anymore.

My life is much simpler than Kitty's. I have no pets. I have no children. I have no significant other. I don't need to execute the Democratic Process whenever I want to do something, or buy something, or change something, or release something. I can eat the same thing for lunch for the rest of my life without hearing comment or commentary. I can drive my 5-speed Italian car without having to justify my choice to keep it.

I have really gone off topic, haven't I?

Well, there really isn't too much else to say. Kitty can continue to live in a beautiful home that is unsafe to live it (even opt to live on the ground floor full time), or she can move to a single level home, or she can do whatever the heck she wants.

I've also taken to looking at offerings on CARMAX. I drive a little FIAT 500 and sometimes I yearn for something a tad bit larger. Of course, I've been looking at Cadillacs. I don't want anything electric or hybrid. I was also delightfully shocked to learn that Cadillac offers a 2025 model with manual transmission. Cadillac hasn't made a manual transmission since 1953!
The classification of this vehicle is called BLACKWING. It's part of the CT4 model.
Automatic transmission is a standard feature on most GM cars. The thought of owning something that large with a stick shift seems like a head-turner or a deal-breaker. The downside? It's listed as getting 15 miles per gallon on streets. That would be about two gallons of gas just to go roundtrip to work. Probably the only way I could afford to feed such a car would be to have it housed in a garage while I take the bus.
Then there is the fear of having it broken into.
Still... Living in a world that's run by clean energy versus fossil fuel would make my vehicular considerations pretty irresponsible.
Sometimes I wonder how responsible I am by identifying as a hippie in the new millennium. A millennium, I might add, that isn't so new anymore!

Most folks get excited when they buy a new large ticket item for themselves; car, washer/dryer, refrigerator/freezer, house. Given that I am poor, such purchases don't usually appear in the spirit of joy. They are made with the seemingly exhausting task of transferring funds from different savings accounts to pay for the single item purchase.
This purchase comes with another note of sadness. The current refrigerator/freezer has stopped cooling. In addition, frost has built up in the freezer. I could spend money to have parts replaced or adjustments made, but the fridge has been with me for over 15 years. It was selected by Cook, my first housemate, a friend, and... well... my cook. It was also purchased at SEARS (where America shops). Cook is gone. SEARS is supposedly still around, but the local ones in my neck of the woods have disappeared.
I have no idea why the purchase of a new, large appliance is looked upon with sadness. The cost won't break the bank. Food is generally something that we look at with joy (especially in light of the number of people in my country who have food insecurity).
I think I sometimes yearn for more simplicity in the day-to-day existence. And buying a new kitchen gadget because the older one is not working well is more of a challenge and a chore than a happy occurrence.

Sometimes I cannot deny myself the need I have to be with those who are like-minded and share values that are near, dear, and/or important to me. But... like with visits to biological family, there are also times when I feel as if I were up against those who are actually my 180° polar opposite!

These differences can be explained by any number of factors; childhood, education, life experience, over-exposure to republican BOOHshih, hurtful love, to name a few.

I go to circle meetings and often find myself sitting in silence; like a bad therapy session that might be interrupted with phrases such as, "What are you feeling IN the moment?" or "Pay attention to your breathing?" or "Silence has its therapeutic value." Yeah, well, at least I'm not blowing away $75/session to sit around in silence.

Still, I find the need to simply be. I work in excess of 40 hours per week in a predominantly heteronormative environment. There is scant little eye candy and these days I don't trust most folks because the incentives to be mean just seem to be overpowering.


Who are the Billys?
The Billys is a heart-centered community woven together by shared values and by our shared experience as gay, bi, and queer men. We strive to be present and mindful with ourselves and each other as we gather four times a year in extraordinary rural venues in Northern California, and now in collaboratively created, rich online venues. Each gathering is a work of art, carefully crafted by Billys to take us to places of joy and playfulness, intimacy and openness, creativity and self-expression. We embrace everyone with deep welcome and radical acceptance.

What are our values?
Heart Circle is our central ritual and consensus is our process; they embody our values. Ongoing Heart Circles keep us connected and in community in online events through the current pandemic. We encourage ourselves to be present and mindful by advocating an environment free of drugs and alcohol at our gatherings. We envision the creation of a world based on principles of nonviolence, sustainability, cooperation, service, and the building of deeper wisdom through shared perspective.