Anyone for Tea?

It is said that bantering between Winston Churchill and Lady Astor was rife and quite often amusing. The infamous quote where Lady Astor said, “Winston if you were my husband, I would poison your tea.” and, Winston in reply said, “Madam if you were my wife, I would drink it.” is quite amusing but, in fact very close to home. When I think of the male role models I have had over the years, two of the three, remind me of the desperation and confusion that must have gone through their minds as to whether to drink the potion, or not! To say this confusion played a big part in their lives is an understatement. 

Two vibrant, articulate, handsome men caught in a web of a very evil, conniving, self-centered, ogre of a woman. Two self-reliant men, capable of anything yet, vulnerable to their own detriment.  Two men who nursed, cared for, and loved their first wives to the end. Two strong men , both fragile enough to fall prey to a spider so calculating, able to draw them into her web of deceit and lies.  Two men, who did nothing, to deserve this fate.   Two men, whose only thoughts were to love, and to be loved in return.

The first of these three men escaped from the web but, not without battle fatigue or, without the sting that she would inflict on him.  Yes indeed he escaped her clutches, but to do so he suffered dearly, but he kept strong with the love that he had to offer. Even she could not take that love that was in his heart. Yes, he was younger, stronger and found someone that would love him and be with him to this day.  However, the love that he found, created a stronger deadlier venom in the evil spider from whom he escaped - a venom that one can only fear.  Fear and stay clear of her webs. 

From the very day he left her life, her rampage of terror gained momentum.  From that very day she gathered allies. She gathered them to connect by a mutual relationship, a resemblance to friendship, and once she had gained their strength she would devour their very being, and cast them from her side forever.

She developed a very cunning persona. Outwardly she was the pillar of society, the pillar of the church, the pillar of compassion and caring, but her victims fell into her poisonous web.  The victims, or people she cared for, would be stripped of their nearest and dearest, stripped of their possessions and totally dependent on the spider.  Then, as sure as the sun rises, they would be stripped of their lives. 

The two men had no chance.  They could not see nor foretell their fate.  This black widow spider was about to serve them tea and they had no choice but to drink it.  When each of the two men entered  into her life, she devoured their prior existence, she excluded friends, family, and the very things that indeed gave them pleasure, their sport, their books, their computers, their love for others.  She possessed their minds and in so doing convinced those around them that she was indeed the carer, the lover, the wife. 

Both of these two men both begged to know why they were in this situation.  Alas the convincing spider gained control of their medications, their activities and their bank balances.  After all it was not difficult at this point to convince them that their only activity was to visit another doctor, to find yet another disability that drew them closer to their death.

So convincing is she, that right to the end, she would strip them of their minds, their sight and their hearing, all in order to keep her web intact.  At the end she would draw on her rent a crowd of friends (all of whom were as deceitful as she) to cover her tracks so as not to lose traction to her lies and deceit. In doing so, would leave a path of broken friends and family to wonder how anyone could act with such evil in her heart. (A heart made of stone)

These two men died in a delirium of wonder, both suffering more than during their time in military service, both wondering what they had done to deserve this in their final days.  Both begged to drink that tea and go over the mountain to a new life.  The third man is bruised and frail now, but knows that he will pass in the arms of a woman who is the love of his life, a woman that has given him his heart back and a woman who returns his love, a woman who cares deeply. 

To all three men I offer you peace.  To the two men already gone, I pray you will find your friends and family in the next life.  I pray that those friends and family will take you in their arms and give you comfort as has the thirds man’s wife.  I pray that you will wake from your slumber of pain and find wings of angels and fly.  As for me, I miss you all dearly. And as I sort my way through this seemingly drunken debacle, if I was ever to see this woman again, I know as Bessie Braddock said to Winston, the scene would be set for her from me.  This spider’s words would be those of Bessie Braddock and they would be “Winston you are Drunk” and I would say to her as Winston said “Yes, madam I am drunk, but tomorrow you will still be ugly, very ugly and evil.”

A Spoonful of Sugar #sugarsweet

According to the dictionary the meaning for ‘Subliminal’ is: existing or operating below the threshold of consciousness; being or employing stimuli insufficiently intense to produce a discrete sensation but, often being, or designed to be, intense enough to influence the mental processes or the behaviour of the individual:

My question is ‘Can we communicate with someone despite not being together at the time?’  And ‘Can the deceased send us messages?’

I ask these questions with a desire that, the answer to my questions is ‘Yes!’ A couple of weeks ago I was sitting pondering, remembering, and agonising that for some reason someone who is close to my heart was dying.  I was also remembering another someone who had recently passed and what lovely men these two had been. At that stage one still was.  I know that one of these guys was a brilliant pianist and I thought of how he could play even close to the end, and still, the love of music was firmly embedded in his fingers and heart.  Suddenly, while thinking, a few chords of a piano next door came across my fence from a child that is learning to play.  I had not heard them play piano before. Then I drew myself out of my chair and proceeded to go to my piano which I had not played in well over 2 years.  This was as 7.20 in the evening, and as I sat down and started to play ‘A Lighter Shade of Pale’ I realised the keys were dusty and got a cloth and wiped the keys.  I then continued to play 4 songs and, as playing, my mind drifted to the man that had passed and my mind then swiftly turned to the man that was dying.  At 7.35 my sister rings, I stop playing and think as I go to the phone that this man has died.  On taking the phone call, my thoughts were affirmed that it was true.  He passed away at 7.25pm.  In my thoughts of him while I was playing, were that a new life for him would be wonderful.  He needed to find a place of peace. He needed to rekindle the spirit that he had taken from him over the past years.  

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I spoke to a few about this feeling that had washed over me. With my weird sense of humor, I laughed it off to friends and family that maybe, my bad playing made him leave the building and seek some refuge.  However, all actually believed in a spiritual communication of some kind and affirmed my original thoughts that it was in fact me communicating to him that it was ok for him to pass over, his farewells had been given in total.  

Speaking to another friend, she had said that when her husband had passed on, two of his closest friends had signs that had happened at the very time her husband had passed over.  She like me actually took solace  in their thoughts. 

In the final months of the latter mans life, he had cried that he does not know what is happening to him.  He asked questions but was stifled for the answers. In the years prior to his demise every time he had accepted a cup of tea (without fail) he would say, 'Don’t add sugar - I don’t like sugar.'  'She always puts sugar and I don’t like it.'  You would proceed to make his tea without sugar, he would take the first sip and say - ‘Just the way I like it’ .

In at least the last six years of his life, I could not tell you how many times I heard his plea of no sugar.  Slowly, but surely, this man was in decline of health whether he liked it or not he was slowly losing his power and health to make him become dependent on one.  His networks of friends and relatives were in decline as was his health. 

At the Christmas and New Year he traveled with his (one). He returned home, and then with rapid haste, the conditions he suffered became more intense. His networks were all but depleted. His future had become very dim indeed.  His Last Will & Testament was renewed, his enduring power of attorney was sured up to (one) his bank accounts had been lightened for faster probate costs.  His heart which had always been strong ,became weakened and his mind had become more dependent on (one).  He still cried, 'Why is this happening to me?'  He still cried, 'How can I fix this situation I have got myself into?'  But still he would cry, 'Yes, I would love a cup of tea but, don’t put sugar in like (one) does.'  And when we questioned (one), she said 'I do add some Sustagen to help him along.' In his final month the (one) had cut ties with his family and friends completely. The only ones left to stoke the (ones) ego and behaviour were those that we laughingly call ‘the rent a crowd’  These people loved her Oscar award performances.  Had she lived in Hollywood, I am sure Meryl Streep would not be the top of the academy winners list.  This (one) can move from streaming tears, to angered hate, to gentle caring old lady all within minutes and not have a tear nor red eye to be seen after the performance. 

Having set the scenario, I still ponder if from the grave can someone give a message?  Can they be telling us to check something out?  Were our suspicions of his tea worthy of our investigation? Remembering that the (one) is such a good actress, that her acting can proffer forth belief in her lies.  

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On the day of his funeral those that were close to him had never heard a song that he had supposedly sung morning and night to the (one).  However, this song was played as they had all believed that this was his song to her. 

I leave you with this thought, tell me, do people talk from the grave? Do people give us this subliminal messages to activate our thought processes?   Now I leave you to think for yourself, was this man who loathed sugar in his tea trying to tell us something.  The song I leave you to ponder was played full length at his service. 

Think it through “Just a spoonful of sugar” 

Happy thinking 

A Spoonful of Sugar - Mary Poppins 

A Long and Winding Road #bereavement #mourning #deathof love

Just recently, my cousin lost her dad.  This man was strong, loving, and adventurous in his prime. A prime that lasted 9 decades plus a few years.  Yes, they probably had their ups and downs, but the love shone. And that love possessed enough strength to make her loss as keen as the love she found on the day she saw his face for the first time. 

The loss of a loved one at any age can be devastating whether sudden, or prolonged.  However, the longevity of the love can somehow make it more difficult to mourn, as the depth and the memories, strengthen and deepen throughout the years.  The age of the deceased it really doesn't matter. Yes, they have reached a remarkable age, but the loss is nonetheless as shattering as that of a young love. 

However, a love that is craved, a love that is shattered while you are alive, is probably one of the hardest losses that anyone can mourn.  This type of ‘death of love’ is probably one of the most difficult emotions to come to terms with. 

A couple of people I have come to know intimately over the past few months have expressed that ‘death of love’.  The love they craved was really non existent from the one they loved (their mother).  Decades of love wasted. Decades of love emotionally twisted, and blatantly manipulated.  They had given that love, craved that love. Respected love in itself to defend them from what really was a manipulation of the cruelest kind from an evil woman. A woman who only had love for herself and, for her possessions (she considered her children were part of those possessions).  Possessions that could be put aside at her whim, but brought out on display for those to whom she wanted to keep up appearances. 

This woman (for want of a better word) sought and destroyed every bit of JOY that they had, ever collected to comfort and console themselves in their years of loyalty, and love, for this woman.  Every blessed memory of others that they brought to their heart for comfort, was distorted and defaced to prove their dependence on her, and her alone.  No one had value in her mind except for herself only.  She raped their minds from the very day that they were born.  In fact, she made them beg for the crumbs of ‘pretend love’ that she would throw their way.

One day not so long ago, they sat and disclosed the atrocities that she had inflicted on them from birth.  These days turned to weeks, turned to a few months of discussion.  Not one story, that each had been told, was anywhere near the same.  These stories were told to manipulate and to distance each child from the other, so that each child had conflicting angst and anger for their siblings.  This in turn, made the mother the all powerful, the narrator of their lives. 

Things started to make sense finally, dates, times and situations.  Finally 1+1 equaled 2 not one alone as she wants, as singularly it's easier to control.  Things finally started to add up and these people began to realize that their thoughts had been manipulated in order to control them to love, and crave  love in return from this evil woman.  Yes, this woman appears to be a lovely old lady, but in reality she is a nothing better than a serial killer of people and rapist of hearts.  She does not stop.  Sadly she knows what she does, but she continues collecting trophies along the way.  These trophies are people who she will use to defend her atrocities and, once finished being her appointed allies, will dispose of smartly to cover her web of evil. 

These people were born to this woman and, in so doing, were born to love and respect her, never to question the love that they had come to believe was not normal.  This woman was the great dame of deception. Finally after coming to a realization that this was not love and, confronting the demons in their mother, the love that they so sought has been rejected and they are cast to the wolves.  Yes, this is indeed a ‘death of love’.  Yes, their love was not returned. But the love proffered to this woman was as true and as heart felt as my cousin's for her father.  Yes, this is a love that has to be mourned but, it also is a mourning of a love that was given but never returned. 

Sadly, these people have to rebuild their lives as the very foundations on which their love was built never even existed.  We will keep them in our prayers and pray, that Karma may present itself upon this woman as peace will preside over my cousins father.

As you realize by now, most of my life and emotions are governed and controlled by music.  The clip that follows this is how I feel for both scenarios. However, one door is open and the other is closed on their long and winding road.

My sympathies go out to my cousin at this time. My prayers go out to these newly found, intimate friends and from the Latin -  ave atque vale (hail and farewell) Alec. 

Long and Winding Road - George Michael

You and Me against the World #acceptance #celebration #living

By the end of this you may think that it is an infomercial for Paul Williams, Joe Raposo and the Muppets. Their lyrics help me to reflect, to draw strength, to inspire and to believe.

In the next few days we, my partner and myself, will join the celebration of life for my great uncle.
A man who was loved, and cherished, by anyone who had the pleasure of meeting him.

In readiness for the celebration you recall his goodness and, as with all such occasions, many tears of joy and sadness emerge.  These are times when you draw on the people especially your partner to be big and 'strong and looking out for you'.  A time when you can simply feel the touch, draw strength from that arm around you.  Above all, not feel it is 'you and me against the world'.

You want to be 'green' and blend in with the establishment. Know that no one sees you as anything but the 'evergreen' tributes that sit before the alter.

On these occasions and many other occasions you don't necessarily want to be seen as the 'rainbow connection' to this great man.  You want to be seen as his family someone who is seen by your character not by your sexuality.  Someone who has depth, someone who cares, someone who has a love and is as committed to that love, as the ones around you.

We all draw strength from those around us. We all say how wonderful that husband was holding his wife's hand through the eulogy.  We see that as normal as the sun to our lives.  We see that sun peeking out of the clouds, gives us strength on those  'rainy days and Mondays'. Gives us warmth to 'see it through.'

As gay guys we need to be seen as normal human beings just like the rest of the world.  We long for our 'voice be one and the same'.  We long to be seen as 'something that we are supposed to be.' We long that we are 'more than visions not only illusions and have nothing to hide.'

For most of us, I believe, we want to be seen as equal as those that have fought the civil rites, and the women's rites movements before us.  We want to be seen as a huge melting pot of ideas, ideals with unity, and be the colour of Spring , a new beginning, a landscape of combined beauty.

This day is coming closer, but till then I ask, that all think how they would feel if they were in our shoes.  Do we need others to 'turn their back and walk away' and when your frightened by the clown need someone lookin' out for you.'

Of course we do!   I believe that 'SOONDAY we'll find it, the rainbow connection, the lovers the dreamers and me.'

God bless you Uncle Lance, and may we someday meet again in Paradise.

Cheers!

Bitchescoz

Contact: luke65mcbride@gmail.com

You And Me Against The World - Helen Reddy & Kermit - Muppet Show