I took a superbly interesting trip to Mexico in May 2022. Almost a month. The first stop was Mexico City, where I stayed for a week.
The idea was to get a sense, if only a quick one, of what a certain swath of Mexico was like.
So what better start than the capital, one of the world’s great cities.
My stay
In Mexico City, I stayed at an Airbnb in the Colonia Cuauhtemoc, a neighborhood just north of the Angel de Independencia glorieta on Avenida Reforma.
Don’t have interior Airbnb pics, but I’ll link to the actual listing. Here’s a pic of me in repose on the Airbnb bed, after an afternoon of walking all over CDMX. (You’ll have to take my word for it)
That “Angel” is often the image we see in the media to rep Mexico City, which is kind of vast beyond measure.
Me (on the left here) at the Angel of Independence, with my friend Jim McKie, who moved to Mexico and is now a permanent resident there. He first moved to CDMX, and now lives in Puerto Vallarta as I write this.
Of course, I did see some sights, but most of all I just enjoyed hanging out and walking around and looking at things. Some of those things:
Fuente de Diana Cazador
View at Desayuno. The Airbnb owner also had a little cafe next door, where I had breakfast a few of the days I was there.
Palacio de Bellas Artes
Like any trip or vacation, there were museums and art as well. These murals are found in the Palacio de Bellas Artes in Centro de CDMX.
Diego RiveraDiego RiveraDiego Rivera David Alfaro SiquierosJose Clemente OrozcoDavid Alfaro SiquierosJorge Gonzalez Camarena
The murals were amazing and a little bit overwhelming to take in all at once. This website has more detail on the art found here.
The Palacio de Bellas Arts building itself is a work of art.
Loved this architectural detail in the Palacio de Bellas Artes
Yes, it’s a ladies room door, but I loved the Deco Lettering (even if one letter is missing)
This is Just the first post, there’s much more to come on the trip to Mexico!
Normally I don’t think of myself as kindred spirit to wildlife. But perhaps, especially this day after Earth Day, I should. Especially in regards to mountain lion P-22, we’ve got a lot in common.
People who know me realize I spend a lot of time in Griffith Park, and have for decades. One of the largest urban parks in the United States, it’s also mountainous and provides Angelenos with a wide variety of hiking options.
I do a good amount of my cardio there.
P-22: Master of his Domain
The Aging Bachelors of Griffith Park
So it’s no surprise to find out there’s another aging bachelor who’s roaming that expanse, except that he’s a cougar, a puma, a mountain lion!
Of course, I’ve known about P-22 for years. In fact, I wrote my city councilperson when I first heard of the big cat making his home in my park. I thought it was irresponsible that the city would allow this alpha predator wild animal to roam a public park. A park that was full of people day and night.
What kinds of havoc could P-22 be responsible for? This is a copy of my email from August 14, 2012:
Dear Councilmember Krekorian:
It was with great dismay that I read in today’s LA Times about the mountain lion that has been allowed to remain wild in Griffith Park.
I hike in Griffith Park, usually alone, usually about once a week and have since the 1980s. I do not believe this animal poses no danger to children, families, bicyclists and other hikers like myself.
While I’m all for protecting species, it’s one thing to protect habitat and quite another to allow a dangerous wild animal to live free in a park in the middle of a city of 4 million.
I urge that the City do whatever it is necessary to relocate this animal to a more appropriate wild environment.
So the good councilmember ignored my letter (never got a response either time I’ve emailed this unhelpful civil servant. The other letter was about speeders on Chandler Blvd. and the danger they present to pedestrians and cyclists).
P-22 has Turned Out to be a Reclusive Bachelor Indeed
The truth is that in the subsequent almost 10 years that P-22 had been calling Griffith Park home, I’ve never read of any untoward encounters he’s had with humans.
The blogger in Griffith Park last summer
I’ve never seen the cat. Which is not surprising since they are mainly nocturnal (I don’t ever hike at night) and take great pains not to be seen anyway. I hike only on wide trails or actual roads, to minimize any chance of running into him.
For a while I’d pick up a rock or a stick or something that could serve as a weapon just in case. I came to believe this was unnecessary, as P-22 seems to have had a good upbringing.
By that I mean he doesn’t consider humans to be food. Otherwise, we’d have plenty of evidence in a quite grisly form. So, kudos to P-1 and P-whoever was P-22’s mom.
Will P-22 finally leave the park to find a mate or will he live out his life there? I suspect the latter, and it makes me a little sad. I don’t have any plans to stop my own roaming in the park, partnered or not. I guess for now we’re just part of that distinguished gentlemen’s club that knows many of the secrets of Griffith Park.
I’ve been having an ongoing chat with a gay man one generation younger than myself. That means he’s in his early 40s. I met him when he was in his early 20s. We’ve been bemoaning the insanity of our current times. I’m not sure if he meant Russia’s barbaric, unprovoked war against Ukraine, or Covid-19, or the resurgence of anti-LGBT legislation in several of the “united” states. But I took it as the latter.
This is an old script. It reminded me of the song “Everything Old is New Again,” written by Peter Allen (a gay performer/songwriter, once married to Liza, don’t you know). Not sure there’s much in this world that’s more gay than Peter Allen onstage with the Rockettes (sorry for the video quality):
Yet once again, a bully from Florida has given us a gift. Back when I was in my early 20s, that bully was Anita Bryant. Today, that bully is Ron DeSantis.
Anita’s gift to the LGBT cause in the late 1970s was called “Save Our Children.” Ron’s gift to LGBT today is nicknamed “Don’t Say Gay.”
Common to the resurgence of anti-LGBT legislation is this fetish to bully gay/trans kids and spread lies about gay people. Anita, bless her heart, wanted to roll back LGBT civil rights protections. She succeeded for awhile. Ron wants to “shore up parental rights” by eliminating references to gender and sexuality in certain grades (actually, this law makes it a crime to talk about any gender or sexuality, not just LGBT ones – expect those lawsuits to start flying soon).
Why This Is A Gift
This is a gift (and a warning) because there’s always a drift away from vigilance to complacency. I see it; I’m guilty of it too. The desire to rest on laurels is strong. After all, we’ve worked hard. We’ve been working on this for what seems like forever.
Finally, those wars for marriage equality, adoption equality, military equality, many (if not all, everywhere) civil rights have been won and enshrined in law.
Until they aren’t anymore.
It’s important to realize that, however we might dread it and want it not to be, the truth is they’re coming for us yet again.
Our enemies. The ones who hate us and lie about us. The institutional, the beyond-cynical Trumpian right wing.
They’re coming for our marriages. They’re coming for our kids. They’re coming for our rights in the dishonest guise of protecting “religious freedom.”
Disbelieve me at your peril.
Cleve Called It
Back in 2002, I made a short documentary called “Our Brothers, Our Sons.” It’s somewhat dated now, but it was comparing/contrasting safer sex messages around AIDS/HIV between Baby Boomer gay men and Gen X gay men.
One thing I’ll never forget from that film, however, is the quote from veteran gay activist Cleve Jones, who said of the younger generation then, referring to rights, that “they don’t realize it all could be taken away, just like that.”
(you can see that quote in the “Our Brother, Our Sons” trailer here on the Amazon page.)
Cleve was right. Gird up, folks. It’s not over, there’s likely dark days ahead of us and we’ll keep on fighting. We always do. We always live the Act Up slogan, Silence = Death.
We won’t be silent. We’ve been here before and we won. We will prevail again this time, I have no doubt.
One of the main reasons for that is the younger generation — of all stripes, is on our side. They’re on our side! Things really can change.
So thanks, bullies. For the warning. And one more thing: We’re not “united” with you, motherfuckers. Looking forward to seeing this resurgence of anti-LGBT legislation dying. Everything old may be new again, but that doesn’t mean that everything old is correct — or indeed ever was.
Did you even wonder if an important decision you made long ago was the right one? I do it all the time! Yet a recent visit provided reinforcement that I was right about Palm Springs.
Right about Palm Springs? What am I even talking about? (or, what kind of first world problem is this?)
Blogger in Palm Springs 3/21/22
Here goes: I made a decision to sell a condominium I owned (and lived in) out there in the desert in 2011 basically so that I could retire early and fund the gap between then and the time I’d be able to collect Social Security.
Great Recession
It was the end of the Great Recession awfulness and job prospects were dim, especially when you were 55, as I was that year (2010). I’d gotten laid off and I didn’t want another corporate-type job anyway, and when I weighed options on how to support myself, using this asset seemed to make the most sense.
Also, I had determined I was an urban person, not a suburban or small town guy. I wanted to go back to the big city for those social and cultural benefits.
This was the living room at my condo there.
Through the ensuing years I was happy about that part, but did miss the condominium itself — the space, the design, the patios, the complex with the pool and especially the Jacuzzi.
And that Jacuzzi is on the left here.
Missing the Desert
I also missed my friends out there. Turns out, after all was said and done is that it’s hard to make new friends, it’s hard to renew friendships that have lapsed, and I think all of this gets harder as one gets older.
All that made me wonder if I’d made the wrong decision back in 2010-2011. In the 10 years that have passed Palm Springs has become unaffordable to me, and in Los Angeles I’m locked into a rent controlled apartment. On the one hand, that’s good, because the rent is below market. Then you realize you can’t move anywhere else in town because everything is so expensive.
So I’ve joined the ranks of friends and relatives in cities like San Francisco and New York who’ve lived in the same rental apartments for 40, 50 years. And now I understand why.
I Was Right About Palm Springs
So back to Palm Springs. I recently went out there for a couple of days, for some R & R. The weather was great, very warm but not too hot, dry, and I was reminded of what I’d loved there — the stillness. That wonderful aroma of dry. The general ease of doing things.
Love the quiet up on the mountain.
But I also remembered the unease. The claustrophobia I felt living there was back right away as soon as I drove into town. The suburban ethos of the civic design — which means you need a car for basically everything. The smallness of the place itself — which I could see in total from a perch on Mt. San Jacinto during a hike.
So it turns out I was right about Palm Springs. It was not the right place. For me, anyway.
Here’s Eve Babitz, from her story “Bad Day at Palm Springs” in the book Slow Days, Fast Company:
“The peace that some claim to find in all that sand will never happen to me in Palm Springs, no matter how I hope for flat dry hot air so bloodless that I won’t even have to breathe or think.”
Wanted to circle back to give an update on the Home Gym vs. Gym Membership I originally blogged about in August 2021.
My Situation Now
Now (as of March 2022) I have the best of both worlds. All the home equipment I talked about last time: Bowflex adjustable dumbbells, pro flat bench, chin-up bar, dip bar, various exercise bands and mats.
Blogger in 2021, Hikes are a big part of my fitness regimen.
I’d add to the home equipment the ubiquitous and usually FREE videos you can find on YouTube for exercise instruction, including Yoga classes. I’d also add my bicycle, which has always been here, which gives some cardio variety and also provides transportation, depending on the day.
In addition to all that, I now have a membership at 24 Hour Fitness (part of my Medicare plan through Silver & Fit).
So now that they’ve (at least temporarily) lifted the mask mandate indoors here in California I did go back, and it was fine, but there were also these challenges:
I had to drive there
I had to park there
Every exercise station I wanted to use (except for the treadmill) was already in use, so there were waiting periods (it’s a popular gym)
One fool did not wipe his sweat off the apparatus, so I had to do it before I could use it, which, quite frankly, disgusts me (which would be awful at any time, but doubly horrific during a pandemic)
All of the above challenges resulted in a time challenge, in that getting the workout done took a lot longer than a home workout.
Pros to the Home Workout
Basically, it’s the opposite of everything above:
It’s right here, no need to drive anywhere. Save on gas, save the environment.
Ditto, no need to park anywhere
I’m the only one using the equipment I have, so it’s always available.
I wipe up my own bodily fluids, if there are any
A workout takes less time — except, I notice I take longer between sets because I’m at home and can do other things, like read something on the Internet, prep food, mix in chores, etc.
Detail of home gym dumbbells and bench setup – small but effective
A couple of other beneficial things about working out at home:
There’s no need for gym wear that’s fashionable, clean, or even gym wear. Often I do short workouts in whatever I’m wearing because it’s usually fine for range of motion
Honestly, I’m more consistent at home. Even if I only work one body part, say chest, it’s just so simple to do it when it’s right here.
Creature comforts: My own bathroom is steps away and I know it’s clean. Chilled water is as close as the refrigerator.
Pros to the Gym Workout
There are advantages to the actual Gym which I can’t get at home:
The social aspect. I mean, I think we’ve all learned over the past two years that being a hermit is probably not good, and prolonged isolation is really awful. Plus, I do like to interact with other humans (most of the time).
Way more diversity in terms of equipment to use. There’s so much to use at the 24 Hour Fitness I’d be hard pressed to ever get bored with it. BUT – like I said above, it will probably be in use and you will have to wait for whatever it is.
Instruction and help is available – trainers and staff galore if you have a question about equipment or exercise, there’s always someone to ask. At home there’s Trainer Google.
Conclusion
So where do I stand on the home gym vs. gym membership question?
For right now, I’ll continue to do both. I mean why not? Probably with a slight edge to home workouts, unless I find a less busy time at the gym. I really like that I’m exercising more, and I credit that to the availability of doing it at home where I’m most comfortable.
I don’t often talk about a trip I made to Key West in 1979 and how gay Florida saved me, but perhaps now’s a good time.
Florida! You kill me, you really do! From sourpuss Anita Bryant‘s campaign to “Save Our Children” way back in 1977 to pudgy Ron DeSantis’ “Don’t Say Gay” bill currently, y’all keep trying to erase us. But ya can’t.
You never will.
The Bus Trip
Back in the summer of 1979 I was 24, about to enter my oft-delayed last year of college. I’d gone to summer school a couple of years in a row to catch up to my class (never did, actually). I needed a break.
Not many pictures of the blogger in those years, but here’s one from an ID in 1981. Close enough.
So, around that time Greyhound was touting their passes, where you could basically go anywhere on a bus if you had this pass. I had about a month off between the end of summer school and semester start, so I bought this pass and was off to see America.
I left from where I was living at the time (Milwaukee, where I grew up) and headed to the west coast, where I stayed with my cousin in San Francisco and had a great time. Down the coast to Los Angeles, which overwhelmed me so much I didn’t stay longer than even one day (I know, hard to believe since that’s where I’ve lived for most of the last 42 years).
I got the bright idea to go to Florida because of ads for gay Key West I’d seen in magazines like After Dark.
Please remember this was the 1970s when being gay in homophobic America was not easy and most certainly not very popular, especially outside of major cities like New York and San Francisco. Most gay men I knew – myself for sure – were, at the most, out of the closet just a tentative step. Which disappeared back behind that door whenever a threat appeared. Which was all the time.
Anyway, the bus headed east across the deserts. When we got to Phoenix, it rained. (I learned about the summer monsoon.) When we got to flat, hot Texas, the trip became interminable and unbearable. (Remember, it was August.) Then I got robbed.
During a station stop I’d left a camera in a bag in the overhead and when I got back on the bus it was gone. Stolen by a fellow traveler (though I didn’t know who, I had my suspicions).
If anything it was worse because the camera wasn’t even mine, it was borrowed from my newly married sister.
Next Stop Key West
So, disgusted as I was, I decided to ditch the bus at the next large city (which was New Orleans). head directly to the airport and buy a one way ticket to Miami.
Another pic of the blogger from that general era.
From there I took a bus (still had that pass!) down through the Keys to its terminus in Key West.
I’d made a reservation at the Island House – a gay resort in Key West which is actually still operating 43 years later.
It was like walking into Paradise.
As I recall, it was a two-story wooden motel-like building surrounding a pool. Maybe I read it had been military housing in the past. Whatever it was then, it was magical when I walked in.
Drugs, Sex & Disco – and a Future
Within a half hour of my registration at the front desk, I was in the bed of one of the employees. His name was Mike, and he was from the Northeast. He was blond and handsome and muscle-y, all things I liked (and still do).
Mike was just the first of many guys and really, of many people I met that week in Key West. It was the height of what I’d call my drugs, sex and disco period and it was still at a time in my life where there were few negative consequences from overindulgence.
Most importantly, though, was meeting older gays and lesbians from the big east coast cities, primarily New York. One of the guests was a doctor on vacation. Another was a professor. I met an international and glamorous lesbian couple who owned an ad agency on Madison Avenue. Most of the rest were successful, happy adults who were living full and completely open gay lives.
So here was a blueprint. Here was something I could remember and use as a guide for an imagined future. Here were contacts who gave me their phone numbers and addresses and were rooting for me. Not officially mentors, yet adults who provided an example to someone who didn’t even know he was looking.
Gay Pride
When the week was over, I was dropped off at Miami International Airport by this beautiful gay couple from North Carolina who were driving back to Raleigh. I’d decided to forget about the bus pass and just fly back to Wisconsin. After he helped me get my suitcase out of their trunk, Reece took me in his arms and kissed me. In public and in a crowd – something I’d certainly never done before.
As I floated through the terminal, I knew I’d decided I could live this gay life I’d been given. It was so obvious. I’d no longer seek to change myself, somehow, into a straight man.
That, you see, is the part I don’t want to discuss. Because I did want to change myself back then. I wanted to find a therapist or someone like that who could make me straight so I could fit in. I had that self-loathing for so long and it took me years to destroy it. But I finally and definitively did.
Those wonderful people in Florida were instrumental. That’s why I say Gay Florida Saved Me. I’m just as sure that every day someone there has an experience like I had, where someone shows an example about the benefits of being who you are 100% of the time.
The blogger (center) and friends at San Francisco Gay Pride in 1981.
So yes, we’ll continue to say gay, loud and clear and never stop. Gay, Gay, GAY!
There’s lots of people like me who still need to hear it.
It’s true, I was nearly naked in the nineties. At least for this photo session displayed here.
This was the story: I was turning 40 soon, and I thought I should have some pictures taken of myself, because everybody knows what happens when you turn 40.
Suddenly, you’re old, out-of-shape, undesirable, a has-been. Joking, of course, but I’m not immune to our culture’s adoration of youth, even when it was my own.
I knew a photographer and liked his photos, so I booked a session with Jason Wittman. These photos are the result.
Jason likes sepia
Jason really liked printing his film in sepia tones, so that’s why there’s a lot of sepia here. Makes it look like a certain period, yes? I did minimal digital adjusting. These are pretty much what the old-style prints I have look like (I scanned the originals – this was pre-digital).
Kind of a rough look, kind of hinting at low-rent? Sleazy yet inviting, at least that was the intention. I guess you, the viewer, decided if that worked or not.
May do another shoot soon
I’ve been thinking about doing something like this again (naked photo shoot), even though I’m about 27 years older than when these were taken. I guess I’ll call it “Naked in the Twenties” or maybe “Naked in My Sixties.”
I mean, really, why should the kids have all the fun?
Hope you enjoy my “nearly naked in the nineties” photos. (Taken in 1994, I was 39.) All photos (except one as noted) Copyright Jason Wittman, 1994.
Used this for personal ads for a long time.
Like the combination of denim and jockstrap
We used props!
This one butt photo is from a different shoot, when my hair was longer. Different photographer.
I think it’s important to give back. For much of my life I was not in any kind of position to contribute financially (or thought I wasn’t). Then I realized that giving small amounts monthly was less painful to the budget but adds up to a lot over time. I want to tell you about the non-profits I support and why.
This really isn’t for a pat on the back. Even I realize that this kind of armchair activism of writing a check still keeps the real work (which would be volunteering) at arm’s length. Still, it’s a fact that non-profits run on donations. They need money, desperately, for literal survival.
So here are the current non-profits I give to and why:
Just starting giving this morning, a direct result of ignorant, misogynistic bullies in Texas (Gov. Abbott and AG Paxton) who decided that bullying trans kids was a good thing. Also Florida and its misguided, ineffective and just really stupid “don’t say gay” bill.
I’ve been wanting to give to The Trevor Project for a long time and these idiots finally pushed me. I guess I should thank them. TTP supports LGBTQ youth with crisis intervention 24/7. I wish there had been such an organization when I was young. I’m so glad there is now and that I can help them in a really small way.
I’ve been listening to and supporting our local NPR station for quite a while. It’s part of my everyday life here in Los Angeles. Basically the only radio station I listen to in the car and I also use their smartphone app when out and about and especially when walking.
Known for their innovations in music (my favorite show is Jason Bentley’s “Metropolis”) and local programming (my favorite here is Kim Masters’ “The Business”) I feel so lucky to live where they actually exist and have helped them in person with fundraising drives. Now with technology you don’t have to live in Los Angeles to listen to KCRW.
It’s easy to take certain organizations for granted if they’ve been around awhile and an ongoing part of your gay life in a town. There’s a danger in failing to remember how unique this organization is, the largest LGBT Center in the freaking world, right here in our city.
The Center supports the community in so many ways: health, education, housing, youth and seniors, leadership, advocacy. I’ve gone there for legal advice, movies, stage shows, 12-step meetings, cancer support groups, enrichment classes, art exhibits, parties. . . it’s beyond extraordinary and I feel blessed to live in a place that has such support for my community.
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This is the organization that works behind the scenes to make sure LGBT Rights are protected in the courts. They are a place where anyone who is LGBT can go if they’ve had their rights trod upon (which, sadly, happens all the time).
Also, one of the ways the Right is always trying to undermine LGBT people in this country is through legislation attempting to curtail our rights. Lambda Legal is there to fight, within the system, whenever and wherever this happens. They work tirelessly for LGBT equality in the US, which sadly is not guaranteed by law in every instance.
The Right’s current ploy is to take away LGBT Rights under the lying guise of “religious freedom” bills – and Lambda Legal will be there to counter this every time. But they need money! So I give a little bit every month.
Income inequality in the United States, and particularly in huge cities like Los Angeles can be and is epic. This was exacerbated by the pandemic when so many people were thrown out of work all at once in the lockdowns.
There’s absolutely no reason for anyone in our enormously wealthy country to go hungry. The LA Regional Food Bank does a great job in providing sustenance to those who really need it.
The main reason I like the American Civil Liberties Union is that it supports the little guy. And any little guy, even the ones I don’t agree with or like, such as the occasional person or entity on the far right that, let’s face it, has the same First Amendment protections we all enjoy.
Again it’s a legal organization speaking the truth to power. This is part of a piece with why I support Lambda Legal – I realize there is much value in experts, and experts need to be supported to safeguard the freedoms we have in this country. Also, don’t you want to get behind an organization that kicks ass every day of the week? I know I do.
So there you have it, these are the 6 non-profits I support. I currently give a small amount to each of these organizations every month. My eventual goal is to donate 5% of my annual income to non-profits. Not quite there yet, but getting closer.
As an independent and self-published author, I’m constantly evaluating the things I do to market my books. As we all know, one of the biggest truisms of advertising is that “sex sells.” And sells some more:
Take this blog, for instance. This one, the one you’re reading. Far and away the posts most viewed are the ones that have to do with gay sex in some fashion.
Popular Posts on this Blog
A few years back I wrote quite a few posts on the older man/younger man dynamic. Those proved to be very popular here. They came out of a genuine surprise in my own experience that (probably starting in my 40s) I was suddenly hit on by hordes of twentysomethings.
I’m grateful to tell you that this has only continued and even increased as I get older.
My Instagram Top Nine from 2021
Yet I wonder if the subsets of those who appreciate mature male pulchritude and those who are actual fiction readers intersect.
Should I Get Naked in Front of the Camera?
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For instance, I was thinking about baring it all. Booking a photo shoot with any number of the great photographers in Southern California who focus on the male nude. I’m currently quite happy with my fitness level and think I look fairly good nekkid for a man about to be 67.
This idea didn’t come from nowhere. There’s a couple of people I can think of who’ve made a small cottage industry out of celebrating the mature gay male body. I think it’s great! It’s not like any of us who’ve survived past 50 just sit in our parlors all day sipping tea and listening to the clock tick. (OK, maybe that’s what we’ve done for the past two years, but heck, it was a pandemic.)
Any Publicity is Good Publicity
So why not show/do something that could be an evergreen Internet magnet? The old saying that “any publicity is good publicity” is mostly true (which I’ve determined after many years in public relations).
Then again there’s the question: Would people who like to look at sexy naked pictures of older men also be the people who buy books? My guess is that for most, probably not. But some would. There’d be a few.
It’s also a long-term proposition. It’s that spark of awareness of something which grows over time to be curiosity, and then to conversion (to use the selling term). Stranger things have happened.
Sex sells, then sells some more. The video attached is a compilation of the most popular 2021 posts on my Instagram. It’s a teaser for what might follow. As Marilyn said, “I’ll keep the radio on.”
I guess that the Super Bowl and Valentine’s Day happen almost adjacent to each other every year. I guess that was more apparent to me this year, 2022, since they are actually just a day apart.
I realized that these are two things I don’t care much about, have never cared about or celebrated in any meaningful way.
My father always told me that I was a contrarian and I suppose that’s largely true. Yet I’ve long since stopped wondering why it is I don’t seem to like these things that everybody else does. Or try to suss out the pathology inherent there.
What is wrong with you, blogger?
As it turns out, nothing! I’m just a sensible person with non-mainstream tastes, which is something to celebrate and admire.
Why I’m Not a Super Bowl Fan
It’s really that I’m just not a football fan, but the Super Bowl is the appropriate focus since it’s like the Yearly High Mass for this particular endeavor.
In December, I was visiting relatives in Wisconsin and stayed with my brother and sister-in-law. During that time, there was a Green Bay Packers (the Wisconsin State Religion) game on television, and I watched it with my brother. I enjoyed this because it was quality time with my brother, not because of the game, which even after all these years, I cannot figure out how they score. Or the rules.
The blogger (left) and his brother Dick
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Also, the quarterback Aaron Rodgers is quite easy on the eyes. It’s true and I enjoyed that part quite a bit.
Aaron Rodgers of the Green Bay Packers
But overall football is too violent and headache-inducing (for me, as the viewer). I can’t decouple it from stale cigar smoke which was my father’s habit when I was a kid, so to me football = unexpected, loud yelling and foul smelling air and the subtle creeping angst of having to go to school the next morning (likely in the cold and dark).
It’s complicated.
Why I’m Not a Valentine’s Day Fan
First of all, the colors — red, hot pink– not my faves at all, though I do have a red car and love that because it’s so easy to find in a parking lot. But I digress.
I think we’re all good at certain things. I have talents like rollerblading/ice skating (backwards, even), piano playing (sometimes, highly subjective), book writing (again, subjective) and my recipe for deviled eggs is not to be fooled with.
But romantic love has never been something I’ve excelled in. For everyone who seems never to be without a partner or a crush, this may seem unfortunate, even sad. Truthfully though, it’s just a way of being.
Valentine’s Day (to me) seems to be a way to force all of us to think “wouldn’t it be better to be part of a couple?”
Especially as I get older and care less about what people think (a gift) the more comfortable I am with myself and being single. If that changes, great. If it doesn’t ever change, that’s great, too.
It’s now really hard for me to imagine my life intertwined with another man’s. But it could happen.
Truth is, I’m more likely to get a dog. That will probably happen sooner than I fall in love with the Super Bowl and Valentine’s Day.
But not to rain on anyone’s parade. If you love these things, then you do you.
This is Betty, dead almost 30 years. Time for another furry friend?
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