Aunt Grace and Uncle Harry circa 1950s

  Aunt Grace was 4'8" tall. She was 5 feet around. When she sat, her feet did not touch the ground, and the tiny black hat sat on her head. It was the one she had inherited from Uncle Harry's grandmother. Her hair was black as coal, save for the fewa gray hairs that had appeared, and her shoes were those sensible ones that women of a certain age wore. The laces were black, the leather was black, and the heels were very fat. She always sat at the front of her chair with her hands folded in her lap, and she always smiled a saintly smile. 

She and Uncle Harry had joined a church sometime late in life. They were well-known in our little community. They attended every funeral no matter what church it was held in. If you died and Grace and Harry didn't show up for the food and the comfortable pews, something was very wrong. They were always there. They would visit sick people in the hospital that they did not know. (Our hospital was 30-40 miles away.) They probably had never had a conversation with them before. Nurses would ask them to leave after visiting hours. The patients were exhausted.

Uncle Harry was my great-grandmother's son. He wore a winter coat year-round, and if he hugged you, you stayed hugged for a very long time. The bruises took a while to heal. He had worked at the same job all of his life. All the furniture in his house was his mother's.

Where they began courting is a mystery. They had no children but did adopt a child and she came to visit them occasionally.

I think Aunt Grace drove because Uncle Harry was...well...Uncle Harry. She sat on cushions so she could see through the steering wheel. People just stayed out of her way as she wove down the road. The car seemed to be driving itself.

I had a friend who said she enjoyed attending funerals and hearing the stories of perfect strangers' lives. She was curious and perhaps a little nosy. I suppose she liked the food too. Aunt Grace and Uncle Harry would have been her special friends.

Our family celebrated Memorial Day with family. Aunt Grace and Uncle Harry always made it to the picnic. I don't recall seeing them at the cemetery. The place was visited just once a year, so cleaning the overgrown gravesites with last year's dried lilac stems still in the fruit jars was a big job. We brought tubs of lilacs and used the jars left over from last year as vases.  Nothing went to waste.

As a child, I thought we were perfectly normal, but looking back, I have to wonder. 

We had cousins who would also show up on Memorial Day. My grandmother speculated about their arrival every year. It wasn't her dream come true when they did. She swore that she was going to pull the blinds and hide, but she never did. The cousins' daughter was boisterous. She was a heavy woman who wore full-circle skirts and turned cartwheels on Grandma's front lawn. Grandmother nearly died of embarrassment. This was in 1950. 

My cousins and I were simply thrilled with the excitement. So on Memorial Day, Uncle Harry in his overcoat and Aunt Grace in Great-grandmother's black hat, along with the out- of-town Cousins and the daughter with the big skirt, would gather with the rest of us to talk about dead relatives. We would eat fried chicken, potato salad, and, if we were lucky, angel cake.

Honestly we loved it. My cousins and I didn't leave. We didn't want to miss a single minute!

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Just because: Aunt Grace and Uncle Harry

 Aunt Grace was 4'8" tall. She was 5 feet around. When she sat, her feet did not touch the ground, and the tiny black hat sat on her head. It was the one she had inherited from Uncle Harry's grandmother. Her hair was black as coal, save for the fewa gray hairs that had appeared, and her shoes were those sensible ones that women of a certain age wore. The laces were black, the leather was black, and the heels were very fat. She always sat at the front of her chair with her hands folded in her lap, and she always smiled a saintly smile. 

She and Uncle Harry had joined a church sometime late in life. They were well-known in our little community. They attended every funeral no matter what church it was held in. If you died and Grace and Harry didn't show up for the food and the comfortable pews, something was very wrong. They were always there. They would visit sick people in the hospital that they did not know. (Our hospital was 30-40 miles away.) They probably had never had a conversation with them before. Nurses would ask them to leave after visiting hours. The patients were exhausted.

Uncle Harry was my great-grandmother's son. He wore a winter coat year-round, and if he hugged you, you stayed hugged for a very long time. The bruises took a while to heal. He had worked at the same job all of his life. All the furniture in his house was his mother's.

Where they began courting is a mystery. They had no children but did adopt a child and she came to visit them occasionally.

I think Aunt Grace drove because Uncle Harry was...well...Uncle Harry. She sat on cushions so she could see through the steering wheel. People just stayed out of her way as she wove down the road. The car seemed to be driving itself.

I had a friend who said she enjoyed attending funerals and hearing the stories of perfect strangers' lives. She was curious and perhaps a little nosy. I suppose she liked the food too. Aunt Grace and Uncle Harry would have been her special friends.

Our family celebrated Memorial Day with family. Aunt Grace and Uncle Harry always made it to the picnic. I don't recall seeing them at the cemetery. The place was visited just once a year, so cleaning the overgrown gravesites with last year's dried lilac stems still in the fruit jars was a big job. We brought tubs of lilacs and used the jars left over from last year as vases.  Nothing went to waste.

As a child, I thought we were perfectly normal, but looking back, I have to wonder. 

We had cousins who would also show up on Memorial Day. My grandmother speculated about their arrival every year. It wasn't her dream come true when they did. She swore that she was going to pull the blinds and hide, but she never did. The cousins' daughter was boisterous. She was a heavy woman who wore full-circle skirts and turned cartwheels on Grandma's front lawn. Grandmother nearly died of embarrassment. This was in 1950. 

My cousins and I were simply thrilled with the excitement. So on Memorial Day, Uncle Harry in his overcoat and Aunt Grace in Great-grandmother's black hat, along with the out- of-town Cousins and the daughter with the big skirt, would gather with the rest of us to talk about dead relatives. We would eat fried chicken, potato salad, and, if we were lucky, angel cake.

Honestly we loved it. My cousins and I didn't leave. We didn't want to miss a single minute!

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Summer Already?

I do not have a firm grip on what is summer and what is just an anomoly. Here in the northwestern United States we have seasons and then we have early summer, late fall and spring or fall. I am never really sure where we are. This year it seems to me to be very early summer and yet when I think back, there was a Memorial Days when we parked our rv in a park near the Lewis River in Washington when it was summer at it's best. Our young family came for two nights in a row to stay with us. It was many years ago and yet the memory is so clear that my now grown and retired children dream about the weekend and want to have it back. In our rush to claim the changes in the weather, we forget that normal and abnormal are not that far apart. Time flies by and everything that is old is new again! I am so grateful this year. Thiw last fall we laid my husband to rest in the Veterans Cemetery here in Portland and this season we are moving on. My post about the visit of my relatives each year will be posted soon and 75 years later, we still remember those that have gone before with love. Live goes on! 

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Why, Barbara?

 I could never figure out why old people wanted to go back north when there was still so much fun to be had in Tucson. "Why go? Don't go," I would say, "Stay with us."

There was no way I could change their minds. My friend Carole would plead with them, and yet there it was...that empty spot where they lived in our hearts. "What was that need?" I thought. But it remained...they were Snow Birds that had flown south to escape reality, and they needed to go north to stay. 

I was never young, it seemed. That flight of fancy that teenager had was never mine. I was born seeing what could happen when you took big chances. I never felt omnipotent. I knew that young people could be wounded too.

Retirement was a dream come true. We were educators and always in the public eye. To be invisible seemed like a wonderful way to live our lives. My husband and I followed the dream. We became snowbirds and lived in Arizona for half the year. I, for one, could have my teen years back and behave badly. It was fun.

Then my husband died. The following year, I traveled to India for my granddaughter's high school graduation. I continued to go south for 3 years. I found a group of like-minded people at the University of Arizona's Osher Lifelong Learning Institute. I wrote and read wonderful books and simply became a part of the OLLI group.

Actually, my life was perfect! 

Then one day, the call of my Oregon home and family told me it was time to go back permanently. No more migrating south for me. I began to understand what geese knew from the beginning. There is a season for all things.

My Tucson AZ. home on the golf course

Living longer and longer is the fact that those of us who are younger face. We don't plan on dying soon.

Theater Performance

Livingroom

I had my youth, a working life, and then retirement. Now there is a fourth part to my life. The fourth stage sees me beginning all over again back where we started. I have come full circle.

Kitchen

But what do you do with the life you have lived for half of each year...the house, collections, and friends?

Outdoor evening eating spot.

Facing reality is not as easy as it sounds. I had collected things for all of those years, and they had always stayed in Arizona. Twenty-six years of memories to be bundled up and moved or simply left behind.

Well, of course I did all of those things...sold, bundled, and abandoned. The material things are gone. Now I have memories and pictures.

The truth is that home is home when you are someone like me. I was born and raised in Oregon. I love this place, and it seems that no matter where I go, I am always looking for something just like it. Now I understand why old people want to go home. Like migrating birds, we need to return. 

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Everything that is Old is New Again

It is hard to decide... do I garden, read, or vacuum? The fact that I get to make those decisions based on how I feel, or even on what I wish, amazes me. On the first day of my retirement, I felt guilty.  Now time is on my side... kind of. Even though the years remaining for me have shrunk, as I look around at age-mates, my generation is living FOREVER. The idea of sitting and waiting could be boring. And, the ultimate question could be, "Why would I do that?"  There are things that need to be done.

All of us see changes in life. Embracing life is what is important. I don't "live in the moment" as people suggest. A certain amount of daydreaming is necessary, I think. I simply live, and I am content. As for the changes, here are some I see now. 

• I am beginning to do the things I used to dread when I got "old"... I turn on the light in my bedroom before dark and even turn down my bed while I am at it. If you have fumbled around in the dark and been afraid to fall, you will understand.  It surprised me when I began doing that.
• That age-old mindset called gullibility is becoming a problem. The need to guard against ads on computer websites like Facebook is becoming increasingly important. On Facebook, I saw an ad for a shoe that was supposed to help people like me who have balance issues. I thought I would just check on that and was actually tempted. Sigh. 
• It has occurred to me that I could become a recluse. Going out in the cold/dark/cold/hot will have me staying at home. As a result, walking becomes harder simply because my muscles don't get used. It is so comfortable in my chair with my dog on my lap. Leaving my house requires an effort.
• Calling for help when I can do the job myself is becoming more common. Pure laziness will take over and make me act helpless. Women with husbands are tempted to do this. I often wonder if that is why husbands develop the habit of supervising their wives' every move. (My husband was not very willing at first to help me with what I simply didn't want to do. If I called him more than once to come and solve a single problem, he would say "GD Barbara" under his breath as he walked down the hall. I even threatened to change my name to "GD Barbara")

I am interested in what changes are happening in your life, no matter your age. WHAT IS NEW IN YOUR LIFE? Or is everything that is Old New Again!

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 When my mother was very old, she was so gullible, and it had even begun to creep up on my husband as he came to the end of his life. I was very excited as older people began embracing the use of computers, but now I can see that there may be a downside to that. 

 

 

On retirement: What does retirement mean to you? Seriously, what does that word mean? It seems to me that the meaning of that word changes over time. 

Newly Retired: Talking about the weather!

My secret garden

 I have written more than once about being newly retired. It has been so many years now, but the stories still linger.

Annie, age 3

I am surprised when those familiar stories come up in the conversation. Now, it's my children who are talking. Being newly retired still has its challenges. When I retired, it was mostly the men who came home to stay who were a little lost. They had been bosses/supervisors or upper-level employees one day and jobless the next. Suddenly, they had only one employee, their partner in life. It was hard...believe me, I know.

But in the 2020s, hopefully, the couple's life would be a partnership. Everyone worked. Now the issue was boredom and what do we talk about?

Issues at work had filled the evening hours. Rants and excitement and people! Just the things of work life in general. 

As abruptly as the job ended, the new beginning began. I personally found that the weather came up several times a day. "Really hot/cold/rainy/cloudy/dark today!" As a woman, I found that "what's for dinner" became the main topic. Thank heavens I love to cook. But the weather?

Somewhere on the internet, there is a list of 100 things to do in retirement.  Back in the day, geocaching was popular, but that list also listed dumpster diving and couponing. I have no idea if those are still popular. I found some that are more up to date here.

When the boomers retired, everyone had advice. AARP led the march, giving out pearls of wisdom to those lost souls. It always made me smile. They were suddenly relevant, and boy did they make the best of it. They posted ads on TV and sent out millions of pieces of junk mail. The canvas bags appeared everywhere.   My attitude was one of disdain. The whole idea of joining the oldsters did not appeal. I still have never been inside a "senior center". I suppose when I get old, I will go there!

Honestly, I fill each day with gardening, writing, and wonderful books. I love my neighbors and friends. My dog, Annie, is so important to me, and I love TV.

I am just bringing you up to date. Next, I will be writing about my life as an almost-very-elderly woman. 

Let me know what you know. What's up with you?

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Our first retirement park model  
(visiting granddaughters)

The Wizards Butler by Nathan Lowell (Bk. 1 in The Wizard Series)

 It is well known that I am a sucker for a secret door! It only seems appropriate that I should love a light-hearted novel like The Wizard's Butler byNathan Lowell. No reviews were read...it appeared on my Kindle as if by "magic". I loved it just as much as I loved the second story in this series...The Wizard's Cat. (I read the second book first) Like I said, I am a sucker for secret doors, magic, and mysteries. 

The Wizard is dying slowly or maybe just losing his mind, but at any rate, he was fading fast. His niece is his nemesis in the story. Mean, beautiful, and greedy cover her good traits. In a mansion built on tragedy and secrets, the wizard is fighting for his mind. 

It all relates back to a "deal with a devil" and immense wealth. Secret doors are controlled by magic, and believe it or not, pixies and elves. They are just icing on the cake.

I suppose it is fun because I am a reader of deep and involved writing. Sometimes it is just fun to acknowledge the child within and have some fun.

Don't dismiss it until you read a sample. It is worth it!

What are you reading?

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AND I finally found that word I was talking about the other day... detritus (waste or debris of any kind)...on page 134 on my Kindle screen.

Word of the day: "diatrice"

I just made up a word for the day. It has a meaning close to "a mess". I always called it the "diatrice," and I'm not sure if it's a word or how to spell it. I need you to work with me here.

Keeping my world... well, really, my house, yard, and car, free of litter is hard for me. Procrastination can eat away at my time and prey on my mind. The piece of tissue on the floor, the stuff between my car seats, and the kitchen floor. I see it...I really do... but I suppose it is just not important to me. Sigh.

There is a Swedish habit that my Swedish grandmother and her children practiced. They just put stuff away. When they were done raking, they put the rake away. When the cooking was done, they simply swept up the crumbs, washed the dishes, and put them away. Each morning, they were greeted by clean counters and a coffee pot that did NOT need washing. And the beds were made each and every day. A tuxedo bed (tucked in and smooth) was the aim. 

I even see there is an app you can buy that will help you rid yourself of the angst of a half-done life. It begins, as I can recall, with the habit that lets you "eat the elephant". The idea is that even if you pick up three things from your kitchen counter and put them away, you will feel better. Building on that habit each day, you can be clutter-free quicker than you can imagine...or that is the theory. I am a work in progress, so we will see.

Actually, my New Year's resolution was to give up procrastination. My first step was to bypass the kitchen sink! If a dish is dirty, I try to put it in the washer immediately. Of course, that means I need to put the dishes away that are IN the dishwasher. My solution for that is to wash the dishes daily and put them away while my coffee is brewing in the morning. My bed is made each morning. If that all happens, I am so proud.

The "diatrice" (word of the day) is cleaned up, and life is good. So, how is your day going?

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A New Lease on Life

I was in my mid-sixties when I began blogging. Now I am 84. My first blog was something about travel, and over the years, I have changed the title, domain (lost the old one), and found ways to connect with bloggers around the globe. 

When Anuj Agarwat over at FeedSpot contacted me last week, I realized that maybe... just maybe... what I had written, or even what I might write, could be relevant to today's new retirees. I was chosen as one of the Top 100 Retirement Blogs. While I may be the 100th blog, it still seemed worth noting.

Blogging has been a big part of my life for many years. But, as with all things, I grew tired of the whole thing. I seemed to me that I had said everything...twice or three times...and even though you might read it, I just didn't need to say it AGAIN!

A New Lease on Life was the only way to define my emotional response. 

The experience of getting older really isn't that fun. It is a bit like a birth experience. It was warm, safe, and comfortable being middle-aged. I knew my way around. Hanging onto that time in my life worked for me. Then Life happened. Suddenly, I was a widow. 

An old blog header. I create my own!

 Up until a short time before that, I was dancing and drinking wine. Abruptly, life moved on, and middle age was over. Traveling through the birth canal again was not that much fun. I did not acknowledge it. Always cheerful and busy, I pretended that everything was "fine". And I continued to drink wine. Sigh.

I sold my home in Arizona, so my snowbird lifestyle is different. My TV didn't work properly, and the soundbar was horrible. My hearing aids were old and past their use-by date. The water heater isn't giving me enough water, and my yard... well, that is another story. My little dog needs lots of attention and is naughty when she is neglected. Is there more? I suppose there is.

I did get new AI-capable hearing aids, bought a new TV and soundbar, and updated my furniture. My mother's coffee table and the yard-sale TV credenza went away. I love the new midcentury furniture and have a recliner on the way. But it wasn't until the email from FeedSpot that I experienced the final push. I was at peace with being "elderly". It was as though I had a new lease on life.
Painful as it was, it turned out that being 84 is not so bad. In fact, I am welcoming what is to come.

I have a New Lease on Life.

What has been happening in your life?

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Please note new blog address:  http://www.retireinstyleblogtoo.org/

A Review: REMARKABLY BRIGHT CREATURE BY Shelby Van Pelt

 I read a very good book! I usually tell you about what I am reading after a few pages. I wanted to tell you about it but I couldn't quite decide it I liked it or not...not at first. I took me 100 pages to get a handle on what it was all about. So here I am, better late than never!

Remarkable Bright Creatures was a puzzle to me. In fact I almost quit reading it because I didn't particularly like one of the main characters. He annoyed me no end and seemed to be shallow and dishonest. I have quit reading books for less than that. I gave a book to a friend that she refused to read after a few pages because "it had no redeeming characters." That was how I felt.

And yet, after 100 pages I began to get what the author was after. 

Remarkably Bright Creatures  is going to be made into a Netflix movies, was on the NYT bestseller list and has rave reviews. Then there was me, not in love at first sight.

A book written with an octopus as a main character is just weird and yet wonderful. The main character, Nova, is Swedish by dissent and so am I. She drank coffee, loved to clean and treasured beautiful things. Her house was built by her grandfather. He had carved the rafters in the attic and left carved creatures on the shelved. I felt very much at home with this family.

But the young man, well 30 years old, was angry, lost and up until he found this genes in Nova not a good person. But the story evolves and, trust me, you will love it. 

4.5 stars from me!!!

So, what have you been reading lately.

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; On Identifiers or Are You Green

Drag Queen
Charity event, Nob Hill,
Portland, 
Oregon
and me!

   

Amanda and I were talking about the need to describe EVERYONE that is new to us with an identifier. She had hired a dog sitter and the young person was "they, them". Discripters are those words we use to tell of people...how they look, who they are or even what their importance is. Why do we do that? Logic would tell us that saying someone is "the/them" doesn't really tell you anything unless you have a fixed notion of what a "they/them" is. But doesn't that play into prejudice?

Those of you that are younger probably have not have been raised in an isolated community like I was. My mother took great pride in telling me that she went to school with a black boy and his family were really nice. This was in the 1950's. She had been sent to board in Baker, Oregon to attend high school. Back in the day eastern Oregon was disconnected from the outside world. Provincial would be the word to describe it I think. She was raised in Lime, Oregon. Population 17 on a good day. I was raise 5 miles east of Lime in Huntington, Oregon. Population 500?

The boy I am speaking of was called Claudie Tebo. The Tebo family was revered in Baker because Claudie was a very good athlete. I think that, for them, that was what was expected. It helped identify the family's place in the community. 

The question is "Would Claudie and his family have been any less respected if he were a non-colored person?" I think he would have been not treated right in that era. But he really doesn't  need to be identified other than to mention his athletic prowess in context in 2026. And yet, even to this day, I tend to use that identifier because that is what my generation did. Not good but there you have it.

So, if you are a new friend, what do you want to know about the other people in my circle: height, width, intellect, ethnicity, education, occupation, sexual orientation, success, wealth, political ideals? 

I personally want to know what book they are reading. Well, politics would be important or I might offend someone.

Really...let me know.

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In the picture above I was with my daughter at a drag queen event that benefited homeless mothers with children. It was fun and all new to me.

For the Archives-2025

My greenhouse. 

Our chickens. 

We gathered together to inter Earls ashes at Willamette National Cemetery. 

Seriously, I am being very realistic about the times, this year, and you. It seems to me that things do not make you happy. A shadow is hanging over all of us. Bad things happen even to us. 

There is ice in Hillsboro...not the frozen kind. You know what I mean. I have not seen them. Is it true? 

I belong to an organization that is simply asking for the delivery of groceries because people are afraid to leave their homes to shop. Children are so scared to go to school. It must be so hard for those people. Instead of feeling total indignation, I feel torn. One side of my head is thinking that if I were those people, I would want to go back to Mexico and home. I also know that they fled their country to seek a better life, and there is nothing to go back to. I ask myself, "What would I do?" 

I am told by a pediatrician in the area that serves the Hispanic community that ICE is not taking any verification of citicenship. They arrest first and check later. It seems that those people that are brown skinned should be afraid. The whole process is such an unknown. Bad things happen to good, honest people in spite of the effort to keep them safe. I don't suppose any of us would want to be in their shoes.

I read that a lot of illegal activity has been stopped  Its a trade-off I suppose  

The inauguration of Trump in January has somehow made time stand still. The media will not let it go and the truth is elusive.The weeks and months drag on, and watching the news is harder and harder. Even though I watch middle-of-the-road news casts, it seems that every time I want to check on social media, there it is. I can't hide in a hole, no matter how tempting that is.

Brick and motor stores here in Hillsboro are closing. Our Macy's is gone, as well as JoAnn's Fabrics. Walmart if not one of my favorites.  Choices shrink, but we are reminded that small businesses are the bread and butter of our community. Finding what I need has me using a "big box" online stores which is not any better...Amazon, Etsy, Temu and eBay are on the radar. Small online businesses are having a hard time too I think...I am always asking, "Is it a scam"? Etsy is supposed to be small business, but who knows.

The internet serves me well. I order groceries and then just pick them up at the store. I like Uber Eats a lot. I have put "gluten free" in the app. and it helps me find good food.

NOTABLE IN 2025

• Ethan and Mikaela bought property in the country. They had been wanting it for so long. 
• Elena dn Micheal moved into a better appartment.
• Susan and Doug are going to Spain next fall.
• I turned 84.
• Donald Trump took office.
• I sold my Arizona house and am back in Oregon fulltime now.
• Brayden and Brycen are helping me with my house and yard.
• Doug finished and installed a new front door and screendoor.
• We drew names for Christmas (Tuesday gift are anew thing.)
• We put Earl to rest. 
• I have rejoined PEO. 

My last crop of grandchildren are growing. Three of them now. The other nine are grown or off to college. I am 84 years old so it seems appropriate that family grows older too. One is graduating from Oberlin in '27 and one is entering University of Arizona in the fall of '26. 

I sold my house in Arizona. Andy and Amanda bought it. They are remodeling the two bathrooms. The house was built in late 1970s so it needs some updating. Earl and I did a lot but still....

Now 2026 is looming. A quick Thanksgiving then Christmas. I love to be near to my family this time of year. The choice to move back to Oregon is feeling really good. 

I made bread/cinnamin rolls today. A neighbor takes my garbage can in and I share homemade bread with he and his wife. My neighbor, Clementine, turned 93 or something this week so I took her some too. I still love to cook. I'm not a good eater so I eat sporatically...twice a day with no thought food in between. When I get hungry I want to eat NOW! Sigh. 

My health is ok and my brain workss better than ever. I am grateful for that.

How are you doing? Leave a comment please.

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The Cow Path or get out of my way!!!

 

Opening day for the box in 2006

Did I mention that a woman drove through my library box in the middle of the night? It was the first "get out of my way" moment this week. There was a big bang, and when I looked out my front window, books and puzzles were strewn down the road. The fire dept, police, and paramedics showed up. My dog about had apoplexy. Everything is now cleaned up, and we are in recovery mode. It was way too much excitement for a retirement community.

Debris from the box.

My beautiful husband with his library box.

Cow Paths

I was raised in rural eastern Oregon, in a community of fewer than 800 people. It was a railroad town that served several large ranches. We bragged that one of the daughters of a rancher was a Pendleton Roundup Princess. Her father drove their Cadillac slowly through town each day when he picked her up from school. We did get out of the way when that car came driving through. No Ford pickup for her.

Cattle were allowed to be free range within limits...fences were a serious business for those people. But most interesting to me was the fact that roads often followed the cow paths. It was so simple. Cows know the easy way up the hill and around the bend.

My dead husband was like the cows. He knew that the simplest and fastest way to the sink or the front door, and the furniture had to be arranged in such a way that his cow path did not have to vary. If it was in his way, he would push it to the side.

It was fine, though. Being married is hard and full of compromises. If you cannot live that way, DO NOT GET MARRIED. I was known to laugh at him and tease him about it. We loved each other.

Is that MY Leg???

Annie and Barbara (b+)

 I have noticed that as people age, they inspect all their body parts every day. It is a waste of time because it is almost certain that the body parts you went to bed with are in the same condition as when you slept a few hours earlier.

My late husband put broken things in a drawer in the hope they would heal and become useful again. Like that broken tool or low battery you put in the drawer, generally, things do not heal overnight. 

It is possible that you think too much. Although there are people who claim to be in perfect health, such individuals are rare. In my case, I go about my day blithely, ignoring most things. I sit when I am tired, and I read or do a puzzle to pass the time. But best of all, I work hard. 

Do I have a list? Well maybe. Let's see.

1. Look up!!! It improves your posture, and you will notice things you haven't seen in years. I promise.

2. Make the obligatory appointments and KEEP THEM! Check-ups and body maintenance are important. In between, trust that you have done the right things and forget about all those aches and pains. You will enjoy the day more and more.

3. Get dressed in a way that makes you feel special, and you will. My neighbor puts on makeup and perfume every day! She is the prettiest woman in the neighborhood. I admire that.

4. Socialize. Just do it even if you're not in the mood.

5. Try to avoid procrastination. Undone business will weigh on you and cause you to develop wrinkles. Truly, if you have nothing to do, I guarantee that you are procrastinating. Look around.

6. Oh, and while you are looking up SMILE! I'm just daying.

 I am sure you can add to this list or have one of your own to share. Please let me know!

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It's my birthday today. I am 84. Am I an expert on aging? Not even close.

I believe you need a good talking to!!!

Here I am, right back where I started! current stats: single (widowed and living in Oregon), aging...next birthday I will be 84 years old, health is passable, and it is fall-rainy, chilly. The people I need are very busy. Andy and Amanda are both in Abu Dhabi, Susan and Doug are here in Hillsboro (both working), and Larry and Kim (running a business and working) are close by in Cornelius. 

This is the time of year when we would typically return to Arizona, but I don't miss going there at all. The decision to move back to Oregon permanently was the right one. I feel content and happy. For anyone who has done that thing, it is simply normal.

When I was much younger, I noticed that old people would turn on the light outside, turn down the bed, and even put on their jammies at around 7 in the evening. The top of their fridge held liquor bottles and pills. (Yes, I did love to drive by park models in Arizona after it was dark. Sorry!) In fact, when we were in Green Valley in the winter, the village would simply go dark. 

In Tucson, we lived in an RV resort on the east side of the city. Unlike Green Valley, the people were more active and seemed younger. I often wondered how it was that they didn't seem to age. In the end, I attributed their life to constant companionship and social life that never stopped. We truly loved it and the people who lived around us.

As time passed, people like me who had moved away returned home. Being near home and family, even when the snow is drifting and rain is falling, is comfortable. At the age that feels right for each individual, that is what we do.

And all that expertise we gathered on being a "snowbird" is no longer needed.

For me at least, the only problem remaining is my need to talk. I know stuff and for some reason need to share it with anyone who will stand still. The idea of buying "mouth tape" seems like a very good idea. 

If you are reading this and you are one of those people who has been trapped by me because I believe you need a good talking to, I apologise.

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Please leave a comment. I am interested.

Moving on!!!

Great-granddaughter, Annie and Moose + Me in Oregon

Late last spring it occurred to me that I was not having as fun in Tucson as I wanted. Seriously, days were long and lonely. Even though I filled my days with my yard and visited with neighbors, and went to classes at OLLIE (Osher Lifelong Learning Institute University of Arizona) it seemed that entertaining myself was an exercise in futility. There was a gaping hole in my life.

My oldest son had offered to buy the Arizona home. The timing seemed perfect for a move. A life-changing move is a big thing, but it just felt right to move back home to Oregon. My life here in Oregon had always been the real one. 

That was last May. I have been here in my Oregon house since then. But the final thing was left to be done. I had not changed my mail back to here in Hillsboro. Today was the day. I am officially here "permanently".

My house will be sold in a couple of weeks. It is exciting....yet I feel responsible for it still. My son and daughter-in-law were here this morning. He had been in Tucson yesterday and said the weeds were growing, and I felt a responsibility to get them cleaned up. My neighbors depend on me to keep the place looking good. Sigh!

Letting go may be harder than I thought. We will see.

Have any big changes come to your life?

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...are you planning your 100th birthday party?

A friend of mine turned 104 this last week. She was given a party at the golf course we played at and people came to wish her happiness. It was a large gathering and she remembered every person's name and had a visit about children and golf games. It and she are simply a wonder.

I, on the other hand, have been living my life as though it is ending. I am 83. As I had my coffee this morning, I began to think, "WHAT IF....". What if I live to be 104 and live the next 21 years as though I am dying. Goodness...can you imagine?

So the question is, "How are you living your life? Do you plan for what you are going to do next year? Or are you just not planning on being around." 

I did a big U-turn and changed my thinking because "What if...". I am planning my 100th birthday party!

Have a wonderful day!

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The Gas Man

I am told I looked like 
my mother.

I was raised in a very small community. There were less than 700 people, and most were emigrants from Europe. My family was from Sweden. Our neighbor was from Greece. Italians, Scottish, Mexican were all woven into the fabric of our community.

There was a handful of women, who simply came out of nowhere. They were just there—polished, dyed, and beautiful. 

It was a railroad town and a place for miners who worked at the lime plant to make a home. Railroaders slept in hotels, or if they were lucky, they had a woman (polished, dyed, and beautiful) with a house on this end of the line, too. 

I always thought Main St. was wonderful. There were three blocks of businesses. At one end was a telephone office, George's Grocery, and a movie theater. A gas station, Smoke House Bar, a cafe with a lounge, and then Grady's Bar were in the middle. At the western edge of downtown, we had a small mercantile, an ice cream shop, a drug store, a jewelry, and a dilapidated hotel.

Highway 30 went through town, and at the far western corner lay a small community with houses boasting chicken coops, large gardens, and a field of alfalfa. That is where Joyce lived. She worked in our church with young people partnering with Nina. Nina was just a good person. We all loved her.

Joyce on the other hand, was polished, dyed, and beautiful. She had glorious wavy red hair that matched her eyes, and her nails were always perfectly polished.

Joyce was married to George. She had been a clerk in George's grocery. After they married, Joyce's sole job was to take care of George. He may have been, well, boring. That is what I thought, but who knows. They married late in life. George had always been a bachelor and was probably naive. He had money, and Joyce was willing to try on married life. They had been married for several years when I came to know her. I was a sophomore in high school.

Years passed, and I left for college. George and Joyce faded from memory.

My mother was a skilled gossip/storyteller. She loved a good story. I looked forward to coming home for the holidays because she always had a tale to spin. She made me laugh, and that was a good thing

When I came home for spring break, my mother was ready with the story.

It had been a frigid winter, and water pipes buried 6-8 feet deep froze in the ground. Trenches with husbands digging a ditch appeared all over town. Of course, everyone suffered. 

It was Saturday when Joyce's furnace quit. Good faithful George called the gas man, and he was to arrive on Monday. Joyce and George huddled in front of the fireplace and ate hot soup, probably in cans from the grocery store. Poor George was not at all aware that Joyce was dissatisfied, or that is what he told the guys at the grocery when quizzed about the incident. In small towns, everyone felt entitled to know everyone's business.

Monday was a hard long day for George and the cold weekend did not help.  Joyce was home alone, cold, lonely, but most of all, bored

That was when the gasman, dressed in his gasman uniform, arrived. It was lust at first glance. That was a piece of gossip my mom could not resist. And she said, "He did not leave."

The punchline was perfect...one of my mother's best. 

When the gasman cometh, lock up your wives!!!

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How to be a Snowbird in 2024

Early years in RV resort!

Our motor home is parked next to our 
first Park Model

When it begins to cool in the evenings and the geese fly in formation, my mind turns to Arizona. Yearning for the desert air and vibrant blue sky is compel me to fly away. I do it every year and will as long as I am  allowed.

Townhome near Tucson's Pantano Wash and bike trail.

We started this way of life when we retired. First with a fifth-wheel trailer, later with a motor home, and finally in something permanent that evolved over the years.  First, it was a park model in an RV Resort, then a townhouse close to walking trails, and finally into a home on a small golf course. 

Congress Hotel from window of near by hotel.

Each time we moved, we upscaled and increased our monetary wealth. That is the way our mind works. It is as though we couldn't just have fun without working a lot. We painted and planted flowers and haunted thrift stores to find just the right furniture. We were always having fun and planning for the next step. We talked about it over coffee in the morning and wine before dinner at night.

In between our work, we played golf. When we were in the RV resort, we participated in fun and games. Being a snowbird was like being free. We were away from our responsibilities at home. I could never find a way to describe it to our friends...being or feeling young again is much more fun than it was the first time around.

We landed in Tucson by choice (and a little by change.) We were a small-town people. Tucson suited our lifestyle perfectly. Named "The Old Pueblo," Tucson fits the name perfectly. While it is a vibrant city, it still remains a "small town" in many ways. The downtown has been reinvented, but it has not lost its identity. "The Congress Hotel" was restored to those days when cowboys and gangsters came to town. A jazz bar was added featuring live performances by local groups. The Tucson Fox Theater was restored and brags an interior like no other.

My husband passed in December of 2021. He would have been 84 on his next birthday. It was, of course, hard for me. A fog settled in that made me wonder if I could keep the snow-bird lifestyle I had been enjoying for so many years. Time passes. I kept my way of life the same but very different as a single widow. I was smart enough to adhere to a routine. That kept me from laying in bed all day and giving in to pain and grief. It actually worked. 

Snowbirds are a Tucson staple. 

They provide income to the city and encourage events that appeal to a retired person's tastes. I found a group that was attached to the University of Arizona called Osher  Lifelong Learning Institute (fondly called OLLI by its members). It is attached to the college and charges tuition (last year approximately $400 for the year) so retired people like me can attend classes and social events, theater performances and travel on field trips with a group. I joined this group in the winter of 2023. Those classes, social events, and trips have been a game changer for me. 

I have taken a writing class for personal growth, a literature class, a music class, and a class from a professor on how our brain functions. I joined a group of walkers and the lady who organized it took us to several Native American gardens and the historic presidio near the center of Tucson.  I regularly participate in social events. The plan is to continue doing that this year.

I am evolving as a snowbird. I am not the same person I was all those years ago. Yet, I remain as enthusiastic about my opportunity to enjoy the warmer weather in the winter. I live in Portland Oregon in the summer. Rain is at this very moment coming...maybe tomorrow. Who knows. 

My life might look like yours but then again maybe not. But living in a new place, inventing a different life and, most of all, getting to know new people is the key. Social interaction is what keeps our mind sharp. 

Good luck!

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P.S. I am home in Oregon for the holidays...I really had forgotten how wet it is. Not being able to stay physically active EVERYDAY is not a good thing.