Month: November 2020

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And Then All of a Sudden…

This happened:



I knew 2020 wasn't going to let us off unscathed…

Last Friday we noticed a steady drip of water from our water heater. This is an old house, and it was located outside in a metal lean-to as was custom of the era in this part of Phoenix.

We notified our landlords and they asked how much of an emergency it was. "Not a holiday weekend rate emergency, " I said. Our landlord said he'd come over (they live right next door) and take a look at it. The next day he said that he'd be replacing the unit with an "on-demand" water heater and would like to get started as soon as possible Sunday morning.

Well, Sunday morning arrived and amid pounding and sawing and a general cacophony, he was making progress. Around 3 pm I heard him yell, and before I could even get outside, his son came running over yelling, "Your roof is on fire! Get out NOW!"

Well apparently, our landlord was just finishing up the final weld on one of the water lines that was too near the roof overhang. It flashed and spread into an attic conflagration that melted one of the vents on the roof.

Ben and I got out safely with the dogs and our second most important possessions, our laptops. We watched as four fire trucks pulled up and disgorged their troops who swarmed into the house, hoses in hand. I knew we were in trouble when they started bringing things out into the yard. Thankfully they did. My third-most prized possessions: the new speakers I'd bought last summer, along with my turntable and amplifier were brought out still on the entertainment center, like they were being transported on a Dias.

The fate of everything else in the house remained unclear until we were allowed back inside several hours later. The firefighters had thoughtfully draped everything that looked important with enormous sheets of black plastic, protecting the remainder of our computing equipment and—as I only discovered today—the bookcase holding all my books and vinyl records. I didn't lift the veil too much for fear of disturbing the ceiling detritus that had fallen, but it appeared everything dry. (The thought of losing my collection was one of many things that contributed to me getting only about 3 hours of sleep last night.)

Needless to say, the house is trashed. We're spending a couple nights in a nearby hotel, and tomorrow the plan is to transfer to Extended Stay lodging.

The owner's insurance adjusters came by today and while they didn't write the whole house off as a loss (something that would've made our lives infinitely easier in the aftermath as we're discovering), they did point out that the entire roof would have to be replaced. And not just the shingles; the entire roof structure had to go, along with most of the interior plaster and drywall, to say nothing of the house wiring.

This was the result of an accident, albeit one that could've been avoided if our landlord simply chose to have the new water heater professionally installed. I don't blame him for this, but I blame him for the fact that we now have to move.

In some ways this is a blessing. While cleaning house Friday, I remarked that we—like many Americans—had just too much stuff—and the thought of moving absolutely turned my stomach.

But yet, here we are, and like others who find themselves in this situation, it soon becomes apparent how many of those amassed things are easily dismissed.

The one thing that has prevented the tears from flowing is my core philosophy that everything happens for a reason. As comfortable as it was, it was time to move on from that house; that area of town. Ben recently accepted a position in a school district in Casa Grande, a community about an hour's commute from our current location. We needed to move east to cut down on that commute. As for me, I'm going to be working from home for the foreseeable future, and if the time comes that I have to go back into the office, I have a (relatively) new ride and will be traveling northeast going in and southeast going home, a perfect commute with no sun in my eyes.

So yeah, life goes on. Changes will be made. And thanks given that we and the dogs are all alive and well.

 

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Down the Rabbit Hole I Go

The first thing to go is the memory. Or the knees. Sometimes both at once.

In my case, it's definitely memory. While some aspects of life in my 20s stand out very clearly, others are more…muddled. And what I'm increasingly discovering is that things I swore happened one way—or in such a such a month—actually did not, as backed up by photographic proof.

And while it could be that those photographs are nothing more than a glitch in the Matrix, I find it far easier to believe that I just got it wrong and it's a glitch in my matrix.

I don't exactly remember how I got there or what I was searching for, but last week I found myself knee-deep in the online archives of Arizona State University; more specifically, their collection of Arizona gay rags from the 70s onward.

The collection is far from complete, but reading the smattering of articles and opinion pieces pointed out exactly how far we've come as a community and our standing in society at large in the last 50 years.

It was also a wonderful trip down memory lane.

Phoenix Gay Bars/Bookstores, October 1979
Tucson Gay Bars/Businesses, October 1979

(Click either to embiggen.)

Seeing the ads and logos from all these long-gone establishments especially brought me back.










And then there was the card shop on 7th whose name I was searching for a few weeks ago…

…where I bought this treasure in 1983:

Done by a probably local artist, "C. Ruth", it thought it was adorable. I loved the colors, I loved the subject matter, and while my partner at the time, Dennis, didn't have a beard, he was a ginger…

Frankly, I'm amazed that it's survived the 24 moves it's gone through since then.

But I digress.

Lastly, who could forget this information-packed reference? Kids wonder how we met up before the internet? This is how.

(I never bought one. Six dollars was a lot of money back for me in 1979; it was an hour's work!)

I decided to enlist Google Maps to see what now stood on these once-hallowed locations.

To say it was a sobering experience would be an understatement. While I knew instinctively that the bars came and went even back then, it was still disheartening to see that so many were now just vacant lots, or had been torn down to make way for new strip malls and condo/apartment complexes.

Interestingly, the one bar that still remains in business and at its original location is the Nu-Towne Saloon; the one bar I have never visited. Back in the day it was "way out east" and basically surrounded by little more than open desert. Now it's surrounded by development and doesn't seem nearly so far east as it once did.

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Are People Really This Stupid?

Yes, Virginia. Yes they are.

From scenes at packed airports to the much more intimate specter of Ben's father hosting his his business-as-usual Thanksgiving family brunch, I cannot comprehend why people are insisting on gathering today as if everything is normal. As if the number of cases of COVID aren't already going through the roof, I fully expect a HUGE spike in January.

I mean seriously, what are they thinking? Are they so selfish and concerned with tradition and their supposed "rights," they're willing to put Aunt Zelda on a ventilator in 8 weeks? Will this truly be the threat my mother used to hang over my head when I was living out-of-state, "This may be the last Thanksgiving you see your grandparents alive, so you better damn well be here."

BTW, Ben and I both politely refused his dad's (last-minute, but that's another story altogether) invitation.

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WEAR A FUCKING MASK

I'm all for a national mask mandate. Look, I hate wearing the things as much as anyone, but wearing them (along with a proven vaccine that reaches 90% of the population) is the only way we're going to make it through this.

So do your part. And remember…masks can be very sexy.