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. 

Listening to the News...sigh

 It turns out that, if you are to be able to communicate, you need to PAY ATTENTION. There are those of us that continue to ignore events and never read a newspaper on purpose. That would be me. My excuse is that I have a visceral reaction to the news. Just one item can set me off!

It all began way back...way, way back during the Johnson administration, Viet Nam era and the beginning of the troubled 60's and 70's. The news was never about progress or accomplishments. It was about the Democrats battling the Republicans. As a republican, I found it all very hard to swallow. 

I was all about honor and respect and progress and, above all, intellect. I liked IKE. It just seemed to me that decisions that were made about war, long hair and young people in general were not smart.

I then turned to JFK as a hope that maybe, just maybe, "different" might not be something to fear. We could learn from our mistakes and change.

But enough!!! I am now 82 years old. It is time to let it go and, well, pay attention. I have begun to listen to NPR news in the morning. I now know that the more things change the more they stay the same.

• Not Viet Nam but The Ukraine
• An election is about to get very ugly
• The environment is still in trouble
• Women are under attack
• Education that we applauded was on the upswing no longer a priority and so it goes. 

Even at my age it is not so much a difference of opinion as it is an avoidance of the unpleasant. I need to suck it up and PAY ATTENTION!

How about you...are you watching what is going on?

Have a wonderful day.

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It's All Good...I Think

You loose...sorry!

OK...so life is not perfect! What is a person going to do.

When my husband passed away I went straight to anger and that feeling of rage continues for many months. Is that normal? I have no idea. What was my way probably was not anyone else's. I had know for many year that "Life is not perfect."

This last weekend my friend died suddenly. His wife called because she had not heard from me. I was oblivious to the event. I'm not good at reading email and get myself reprimands for my bad habit. If there were a way to get rid of junk mail, I would probably be better. In this case it was so sad. I did not give her the support I wanted to give.

I had to remind myself one more time...life is not perfect nor am I.

I told you in my last post that I had been put in "time-out" by my car. I do not drive as safely as I should but then who does? Life is not perfect!

There are mishaps with family, broken fences and money worries...life is not perfect.

And for some strange reason I remain optimistic...hopelessly happy or positive. It may be the medication or it may be pure practice. Who knows.

How do you handle life when everything is not perfect. I would like to know.

My go to attitude is "It is all good...I think!" But still the fact that life is not perfect remains.

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