The Retirement Countdown

Ahhhhh, retirement. You know... the lovely nirvana, just over the hill, that most of us are so anxious to reach. The luxury of sleeping until you wake on your own... more time to spend with family and friends... or to travel... or to volunteer, to learn something new... or to work on projects long delayed. AND a guaranteed income. Oh joy! And soon it will be mine. I am less than twelve weeks from full retirement, and already suffering from a bad case of short-timers' attitude.

My friends and neighbors who are still years from retirement are a tad jealous. How do I know this? Because never, since I was pregnant for the first time, have I received so many well-intentioned but useless suggestions. A typical example: "Oh! You don't want to retire, do you? People who retire grow old very quickly. Surely you want to keep working so you don't just sit around. I couldn't stand to do that."

Yeah, right.

And just that quickly, I am reminded that I am, absolutely, my father's daughter. That man had more hobbies and interests than you can imagine, and I am very much the same. Dad decided to retire as soon as he was eligible, at age 62. Mother was incensed; she nagged and nagged him to reconsider, providing many of the same supposedly helpful comments I have heard recently. Finally, exasperated, he looked at her and said, "My father died at age 65. I don't know what my future holds, but I plan to have some fun before I go." Never nonplussed for long, Mother switched tactics: "You are in excellent health. You're going to live another 25 years, just as your mother did. Why retire now?" I don't think Mother objected to the idea of retirement as much as she did to the fact that she did not make the decision.

Dad never wavered. Mom got over her snit. He retired at 62 and they enjoyed several wonderful years of carefree travel and fun. How does the story end? When he was 64, Dad was diagnosed with cancer. He lived another 9 years, but many of them were not pleasant. And Mom died at age 70, the same year Dad died. Do I have to say it? Father knows best. (OK, unless you are well past 50, you didn't get that one...)

So here I am at age 65, blessed with good health and stamina, and not a fool. I'm ready to go and play. And, darn it, I'm going to start before 2009 has ended. My brother and I are considering a Christmas trip... maybe in Paris and along the Seine.

I'm ready to visit my family and friends, stay up late, learn to play the hammered dulcimer (yes, all over again), make jewelry and plenty more. OK, I'll return to the gym, too. Travel? Australia and New Zealand, here I come!

I'll send you all postcards :-)

How I spent the rest of my summer vacation, aka Beadfest 2009

Last month, I decided to register for a couple of classes at the Philadelphia Beadfest. This is an annual beading extravaganza/circus that takes place in late August, at the Valley Forge Convention Center. There were hundreds of vendors and classes, all offering an array of goodies, techniques and projects. It is almost too much to take in during one visit, but a lot of fun. Of course, I told myself, my main reason for going was to learn a couple of new techniques I could incorporate into my own jewelry designs. After all, it was a New Year's commitment, I said. And then I entered the proverbial candy store and went a little nuts.

The 2 classes I took were wonderful, as were the instructors. One class taught a herringbone weaving technique using sterling wire. The other was a full 2-day class in learning to weave fine silver wire into chains. This creates a fine, round chain that could be any length or diameter you decide to make it. Naturally, you are not an expert at either technique when you walk out of class, so now I have more things to practice. Actually, I like this -- and will be able to use both in my own work. So, mission accomplished, or at least underway.

Then there were the vendor floors... I've been to this part of the show before and, always, there is more to buy than I could possibly afford. Still, I managed to inflict major damage to my budget. Now it's time to get to work and make jewelry!

So would I go back to the show again? Oh yes, no doubt about it. In addition to what I learned, I met lots of nice fellow beaders and picked up interesting bits of information about supply sources and more. Also, I learned that following these shows around the country is almost an avocation for some. Always something to aspire to, I suppose, but do wonder when they have time to create anything new.

Of course, I don't have the cash to fund treks across the country and follow the show circuit. And then there is the time element. Several weeks ago, my older son made the mistake of introducing me to an online game called Farm Town. My main goal before leaving for Beadfest was to move up enough levels so that I could afford to plant 4-day crops that would not be ready for harvest until I returned home.

Clearly, it is time for me to return to teaching!!

Road trip reflections

It has been over a month since I last sat down and wrote anything new here. It is difficult to believe so much — and, at the same time, so little — has happened in the interim. Just life, happening, I suppose. Now that I think about it, isn’t that pretty much the way most summers go?

The road trip was lovely. D. and I meandered down quite a few back roads. When those roads crossed middle Tennessee, I was delighted and astonished by her knowledge and memory of people, places and events. Traveling with her during those times was like having my own three-dimensional Fodor’s guide — in the best possible way.

One highlight came on the first day of our trip. We decided to leave I-81 and take Rt. 501, almost a back road, into Lynchburg, VA, for the night. The road we chose turned out to be a grand scale showcase for nature’s magnificence. We crossed the mountain and dropped down toward Lynchburg, taking pretty much the same path as a tumbling river beside the road, while the sun began drifting toward the horizon and trees filtered the light. Such sights fill the senses and remain in memory forever.

Most days combined a little sightseeing and visits with friends, a leisurely way to spend any vacation. Other days were spent retracing our family’s steps through Wartrace to Chattanooga, as well as points west and south. One Sunday, we attended a dear little church built on land donated 150 years ago by our family — many of whom are buried nearby. Lest anyone think we were on the trail of spiritual goodness only, I should mention that we also visited the Jack Daniels Distillery in nearby Lynchburg, TN :-) Basically, this was just a good old-fashioned road trip, combining a basic plan with lots of spur of the moment choices.

There is something deeply rewarding about a trip like this. Even so, it is not my normal vacation, I have to admit. I love grand adventures to faraway places — and am, in fact, planning just such a trip for next year. But there is something very special about revisiting the past. Moving forward is not an option; looking back, especially with someone who shares your family memories, is a gift.

On the road… Summer 2009

Ahhh… the summer road trip. The idea summons fond memories of Jack Kerouac, my aged but trusty VW, winding back roads across Europe, accidental destinations and more than a few romantic wine and cheese picnics along the way. Youth is a marvelous time, and those rambling road trip memories still elicit smiles.

Alas, road trips these days are no longer about romance. But they are still a fun way to escape for a while. Which is what I am about to do. Yippee!

I’m traveling with my cousin, D., and in a few days, we will be on our way to her home state of Tennessee. D. is a great traveling companion — funny, interested in everything along the way and very willing to depart from the plan to explore anything that looks interesting. (Sometimes we get a little carried away exploring unmarked roads, so it’s reassuring that she has OnStar :-)

Right now, the plan is to combine time with family and visits to historical sites with whatever catches our eye and “speaks” to us.  It sounds like a recipe for a great vacation.

Stay tuned…

Mid-year reality check

Way back in January, I came up with what I thought were nine good, basic guidelines for 2009. June seems like an appropriate time to check in on these. How am I doing? Short answer = mixed progress. Evasive answer = about like everyone else, I expect.  Here is the progress check:

1. Pray, meditate, listen and help — I’m trying, but really need to spend more time here, especially working on listening.
   
2. Exercise — Doing more, but not nearly enough. Should apply more energy to doing this and less to creative excuses.
   
3. Eating less — This one is on track. My weight loss is slow, but steady. At this rate, it will take me a couple of years, but that’s OK. After all, it took me more than a decade to put the weight on.
   
4. Read more and watch less on Tivo — Hmmm… let’s move on to something else.
   
5. Finish projects already underway before starting new ones — Seem to have this backwards. Have started and completed several major new projects but the old ones are just shoved further back in my closet.
   
6. Figure out what income I need to retire — Check this one off. Alas, it means I need to work another year, but I can do that.
   
7. Learn a new jewelry technique — Not yet, but that’s all right.
   
8. Tune and play the hammered dulcimer — Ditto.
   
9. Don’t take time or people for granted — Still one dear friend I need and want to call or visit before summer ends.
   

As I said, mixed progress. On the other hand, there are completed projects that were not even on the horizon last January. More pluses = a loving family, good health, a beautiful garden to delight and refresh my spirit, developing friendships with some of my wonderful neighbors, and, always, a deepening gratitude for my new church family.

So far, a fabulous year!

End of the semester instructor's rant

I swear, some day I am going to publish a small book, filled with all the best (and most entertaining) student excuses about unfinished work and poor grades. Perhaps there will be a special foreword/curse for some of those well-intentioned high school teachers who tolerate all manner of sloppy work and unmet deadlines, all in the name of graduation and marching forward into the future.

The future often takes students into a classroom like mine, where the iron gates of personal responsibility close on them at some point. And this happens before they enter the actual world of work, where perpetual excuses are "rewarded" with termination.

Not all students make you crazy. There are many wonderful students — those who are always in class, always prepared, whose work is turned in on time and completed to the best of their ability. For a number of these excellent students, English is not even their first (or third or fifth) language. They are a joy to teach and help keep us sane when deadlines loom.

And then there are the others. All instructors know them well, and each of us has our favorite student excuses. Here are a very few of my personal favorites, all delivered with straight faces and great earnestness. (It should be noted, first, that I teach computer-based design classes, which require many hours of hands-on work, both during and outside of class.)

I think you should change my grade, because:

1. I know I did not turn in any of the projects and failed both exams. But I was here every week. That should count for at least a C.
   
2. I missed the final exam two weeks ago because my mom needed a ride to her friend's house. When can I take a makeup exam?
3. I am an A student, so I don't deserve a C. You need to fix this.
4. My parents will kick me out if I don't pass this course, but you gave me an F. Why? I know I didn't turn in any work, but I could if you give me more time. (There's nothing quite like guilt. On the other hand, I cannot believe the parents waited until the end of the semester to issue this threat.)
5. I read the chapters in the book. But I don't have a computer at home and coming to the labs takes too much time. So I should be exempt from doing any projects.
6. I should not have to revise this project for a better grade. My mom said it was perfect and you should give me an A.
7. I took this class because it was supposed to be easier than [another class]. Now you've ruined my GPA.
8. I couldn't finish the project because I needed to have my nails done. (Other variations include tanning salons, hair stylists, poker games, impromptu trips to the shore, concerts and even Facebook updates.)
9. I don't consider turning in work I found on the internet as cheating. And you shouldn't fail me because I am going to graduate this semester.
10. I came to only 2 classes this semester, but I will lose my student visa and be deported if you don't change my grade. (Yes, I know; that was rather sad. On the other hand, there is such a thing as fraud.)
    

My all-time favorite excuse came early one semester, from two students who were, clearly, a couple. When it became obvious that one was doing the work for both, I told them that they each needed to do their own work. One replied that, as they were practically living together, it shouldn't make any difference who did the work because they were, like, um... you know... one person. My response was that they were free to do that, of course, and I would simply divide the grade received equally between them. Or, option two, they could each do their own work. The brighter half of the couple realized instantly that dividing the grade meant they would both fail the course. They let me know I had violated their life principles and withdrew from the class.

Sigh. I wonder were they all are now?

The Blue Lady of Pennsylvania

A while back, I wrote about one of my grandmothers, Blanche, my favorite relative when I was a child. Actually, I had two marvelous grandmothers, but I am sorry to say it took me a few years longer to appreciate my dad's mother, Maude, because — well, because I was terrified of her when I was a little girl. She was an imposing figure in every sense of the word. My grandfather actually called her "The Queen," based on her posture and carriage.

The truth was that Maude was a commanding presence, and not just because of her grand posture. Her father came from Maine to Pennsylvania shortly after the Civil War, to work as a logger. Later, he ran several large logging camps with his partners. All four of his children spent a good part of their childhood in the woods; any one of them could take down a sizable tree in a jiffy. I have photos of Maude wielding a saw, astride a horse, at hunting camp with her own shotgun, tending her extensive gardens, and running her floral business. When her own children were young, she would drive them to Maine by herself to visit her aunts, uncles and cousins. In those days, you could expect to have a flat tire on a regular basis while traveling. Maude was unflappable. She just put a blanket on the grass, placed the baby on the blanket and told the two older boys to watch out for snakes. Then she changed the tire. To me, this is amazing; for Maude, it was all part of the day. As you can see, there wasn't much she couldn't do, and do well.

Maude was blessed with phenomenal organizational and leadership skills. Today, she would be running a major corporation. Instead, like many women of her era, once her children were in their teens, she became involved with a number of organizations. And, being Maude, she didn't just join them — she chaired committees and served as chapter president or regent before continuing to move up to regional and state level offices.

The year I was born, Maude served as Worthy Grand Matron, Pennsylvania Grand Chapter, Order of the Eastern Star. It sounds like, and is, an impressive title and a very big job. Part of her role that year included attendance at a number of official dinners and functions, always in formal evening wear. Now, Maude's favorite color was blue. Before she took office, one of her friends made her a blue cape to wear for Eastern Star functions. Before long, she was known far and wide as "The Blue Lady of Pennsylvania." She was wearing that cape in the photo above, her official OES portrait. Now that I think about it, she was the same age then that I am now, an intimidating thought indeed.

You might think, reading all this, that Maude lived a charmed life and, in some respects, you would be right. But tragedy was never far beneath the surface. One of her younger brothers died in their home of an accidental gunshot wound; six months later, her father was thrown from a logging train, run over and killed. Her brother-in-law committed suicide after several years of unemployment during the Depression. Her youngest son died of a gunshot wound and was buried on his eighteenth birthday. And she cared for my grandfather at home for four years, between a first stroke that crippled him and a second stroke that ended his life. You don't survive all this without enormous courage and personal strength. Maude had both, with enough left over to support everyone she loved through awful tragedies.

Well. You can see why a small child would be overwhelmed by such a grandmother and, goodness knows, I was. But as I grew into my teens and early twenties, I began to understand Maude. Guess what — she was FUNNY! She had a wonderful laugh, and loved a good time. For years after my grandfather died, she would invite a houseful of "the girls" to spend several days for an ongoing card and house party. Can't you just see them, playing Canasta, cooking and cleaning up, with evenings filled with a little gossip and lots of reminiscence? And possibly making homemade ice cream; Maude was still hand-cranking ice cream when she was past eighty.

My dad and his brother said it best — "My mother was the most wonderful woman." I've always thought that raising children who thought so much of you was one of the finest accomplishments in life. And really, despite all the achievements and recognition in her life, who could ask for more?

Back roads and bliss

My parents were firm believers in a Sunday afternoon drive — sort of a rest and reward before the new week began. Like so many other families during that long-ago era, they piled the whole family, plus visitors and friends, into the car, and off we went. This was in south central Pennsylvania, which is a maze of winding two-lane roads and farms of every description. Even small children were entertained by the livestock, while our parents admired vistas and fields, barns and farm houses.

Many of the farms in our area were owned by Amish families. We soon learned to tell the difference between Mennonite-owned farms and all the other Amish farms. Mennonites did not eschew all modern conveniences; the telltale electric posts and cables leading to their farms were as good as a signpost. You drove carefully in those areas, because you knew you would be sharing the road with any number of horse-drawn carriages and wagons. And you know, I don't remember anyone being impatient about it.

Dad was the prankster on those trips. In the spring, local farmers harnessed horse and mules teams for plowing, seeding and fertilizing. Dad would roll down the window, inhale deeply, and exclaim, "Ahhh... manure! Yep, spring is here all right." As you might expect, he was rewarded with a chorus of, "Eeewwww! That stinks! Roll up the window, QUICK!"

Good times :-)

But decades pass and everything changes. No one goes for a random drive anymore, on Sunday or any other day. Gas is expensive and every minute seems to be programmed. For over thirty years, I have lived near a major city, so driving here involves interstate highways and city arteries rather than country roads. It's kind of a shame those peaceful Sunday drives faded away. We learned a lot about other cultures and ways of life, and our parents were relaxed and happy. It beat "quality time" all to bits.

Yesterday, on a whim, I returned to some of those back roads and rediscovered the past. I was meeting friends in southern PA, and decided to leave I-95 and meander along country roads to my destination. It was a lovely spring day and, sure enough, there was an Amish farmer with his six-mule team, plowing his fields. There were children heading home from school, straw hats and bonnets securely in place, and more than a few horse-drawn carriages on the road. For me, it was an hour and a half of pure pleasure and serious nostalgia. I started wondering if one really might be able to go home again — a lovely reverie, but short-lived.

My friends were not amused by the carriages. "It's outrageous that they are allowed on the roads," the husband snarled. "They're a menace to drivers and something has to be done about them. This is the 21st century, after all." He is entitled to his opinion, of course. Personally, I would rather follow an Amish carriage along a back road than be trapped in a truck convoy on the interstate, any day. Happily, I was headed back home the same way, and got to enjoy another hour and a half on the back roads, farmers, carriages and all. It was a good day to be on the road — the back road, that is.

Farewell to my traveling companion

Last week I sold my beloved yellow roadster. I didn't need two cars; no one does. But the thing is, I really didn't want to give it up, either, for purely sentimental reasons. I suppose selling the car falls under the general heading of "moving on."

On the surface, moving on sounds adventurous — opening new doors, trying new things, traveling and so much more. The down side is that, before we can move on, we have to let go. And that is the tricky part, because letting go is seldom easy and often distinctly "unfun." Why? Because what we are letting go are the possessions tied to fond memories. Do I really think the memory will not survive without the item attached to it? This is not rational, but there is not much rational about the process of grief and growth.

It was my husband, K., who was the car person. A few months after we married, and with money from the sale of his house burning a hole in his pocket, he decided that I should have this beautiful yellow BMW roadster. It was an extraordinary and generous gift. I loved that car, as much as you could love an inanimate object. The yellow roadster and I had nine years of "topless" fun together. Never before had I owned such a car, and surely never will again.

Letting go of the car itself — not so very hard. But letting go of the dream we had for our lives together, along with the joy with which the little yellow car was given and received — pretty darn difficult. And yet now that it is gone, is it possible that I feel a little more free to move ahead? Well... yes. Aha!

Rodent Redux

Hooray and hallelujah! I've done it -- I've really done it! My ongoing battle with the greedy squirrels seems to be over and I WON! Really! 

All it took was the simple afterthought of suspending a suet feeder cage from the base of my bird feeder. For some reason, the squirrels now leave the entire feeder alone. I have absolutely no idea why, but refuse to analyze my small victory :-) Whatever the cause, every squirrel around avoids the feeder. You would think the thing was cursed. 

Of course, there is still that small voice whispering, "Be careful what you wish for..." You don't suppose... Ah, heck no. They are just rodents. Right?

Snow and soup...

I dread winter. Night comes early, daylight is pale and the weather can be thoroughly unpleasant. Photographs of frozen streams in the snow are beautiful; here, the beauty of fresh snow lasts about ten minutes. Last week, temperatures dropped to the lowest they have been in years. Just to remind us a little more forcefully that winter can be nasty, it started snowing. Not a lot of snow, more of an icy dusting, but still... frigid temps and snow are not much fun for anyone but skiiers.

Then, redemption arrived in the form of our annual parish soup sale. What a perfect antidote to the weather! So many different and delicious varieties, all made by the women and men of the parish. Each one triggered memories of my mother's and grandmothers' kitchens and family gatherings of long ago. It was all but impossible to choose just a few; my freezer is now very well stocked for the remaining weeks of winter. I've been smiling every since.

Life is like that, isn't it? Sometimes it seems that every day is a little more difficult than our coping skills can handle. Then something lovely and unexpected happens and we know that a brighter tomorrow will come after all.

Today? More snow. For dinner tonight? More soup! I think this may just keep me going until the first crocuses appear :-)

Late, as always...

Long ago, my mother used to say, "Carolyn is always late for everything, except for every meal." Alas, she nailed it, 100%. So there's no surprise in the fact that I am just now thinking about 2009, a year that is already a week old. Considering that I started this blog under the broad general heading of "beginning life anew," it seems that some thought is called for as a new year unfolds. So here goes.

1. Pray. Meditate. Listen. Help. No year that incorporates the big four can fail to be a good year.
   
2.  Exercise at least a little. Sofas do not improve anyone's fitness level. Walk five or six days each week. No exceptions for anything other than ice and snow. Figure out where I hid the dumbbells from myself and use the darn things. (People with replacement knees need strong arm muscles to get up off the beach in summer!)
   
3. Pay attention to my own "fuel" intake. Dessert is not a required part of any meal. Neither is wine, darn it. Remember this!
   
4.  Read more; watch less TV. Tivo is seductive, but also lures me back to the sofa. Refer to #2 above.
   
5.  Finish at least three projects already underway before starting anything new.
   
6.  Figure out exactly what income I need to retire altogether -- or how to live on  less and retire now.
   
7. Learn a new technique to add to my jewelry designs. 
   
8. Tune the hammered dulcimer and, this time, learn the location of all the notes before I get carried away with trying to play. After all, there is a reason why I can still play the piano after 20 years but cannot remember how to play the dulcimer after 1 year.  :-(
   
9. Take nothing for granted. Appreciate kind friends, good health and a loving family. Enjoying any part of what we have been given does not come with an unlimited guarantee. Don't put off getting in touch with friends whose health is not what it was, or traveling to see them. Memories last long after those we care about are gone. So does guilt.
   

OK, so that's only nine parts of a plan for 2009 rather than the traditional ten resolutions. Call it a 10% penalty for habitual lateness.