It has been 11 years!

   It has been eleven years since I started talking to myself on this "blog".  Somehow it is satisfying to be able to speak what's on my my and have only the dog to respond to it.  Yet, I don't really speak my mind because there is the chance that someone that I care about might be hurt to read it.  We all have pain and disappointment that is caused by friends and family that hurts deeply but that we cannot speak about because they still are important and mean so much to us.  I like to give the impression that I am a tough guy and that I am OK with letting people go when they hurt me, but that is really not how it is.  John Wayne said, "Forgive you enemy, but remember the bastards name."   That is true but at the same time you try not to loose a person only because they broke your heart.   

  I have been trying to keep busy during the pandemic by making little things out of clay.  It is pleasing to see something nice come from the labor (passion) of your hands.                            

     

                                                                                            

(see Instagram:   10 Saguaro )

ON THE MARKET

   If selling your home is new to you and you have lived in that home for more than four decades this blog might be interesting to you.  

   We started this journey back in July when we two old "Boomer and Pre Boomer" love children decided to "pull the trigger" and sell the house that we had raised our three children in.  They have already moved as far away from us as their budgets could manage and being all boys, they never come back or call.  We had waited for the market to regain its former levels after 2008 and now we were convinced that we could recoup the "nest egg" investment that we had planned when we bought the house.  Unfortunately, we missed the buyers that usually come to Claremont in the summer to find good schools and great activities in a wonderful and quaint little town in a rural area near Los Angeles.  

    What ensues after that is a chapter out of a Steven King novel.  We had not anticipated the agony of moving!  The actual moving of furniture, so easy with three big boys to help, became a thing of nightly tossing and turning and then came the pain.  Sciatic nerves, Carpal Tunnel, Groin Pull, and the bruises.....Oy Vey!  Our plan was to move some of our possessions into storage and then just roam this great country in our motor home.  We packed and sorted and had yard sales.  We agonized over what to keep and what to give/throw away.  At one point we could not find ANYONE to take an antique executive desk (that I loved) and so we just took it to the dump and I watched them break it into pieces.  We found homes for chairs, and lamps, we sold our upright grand piano. (it had hand carving and was concert quality. The buyer took if for her kids and painted it white!)  I have learned way to much about online "yard sales" and people who promise to come and pick up things and then never show up or call or anything...... (One guy wanted to buy a Torque wrench and called to say he was on his way, only to call back later and say that he had been confused with the Clermont in San Diego and the Claremont in Los Angeles.)  

    Living in a home that has been gutted and emptied of all your possession’s means that things that had become part of your life, almost friends, are gone, and you are alone.  We live in about 700 square feet of a 2300 square foot house.  We have our bed, a TV, kitchen (that we use seldom) a couch and a desk.  THAT’S IT!  On a positive note it is the first time I have had a clean garage.

    If it wasn’t for the support and constant love of my sweetie and loyalty and acceptance of our puppy, we would not be able to do this.  We constantly have to clean and straighten up the house for potential buyers, and Realtor Open Houses.  There is the multitude of house repairs after the “Inspectors” come through and then there are the buyers that think that they are entitled to anything they want and are just evil about it. We have had (at this point) two buyers that “fell out” of escrow for one reason or another.  One of them after getting a price reduction asked for a huge allowance to do remodeling and then would not believe the evidence of the repairs we had done. 

    It is now December, after Christmas.  We have to give a big THANK YOU to our church for the festivities and fellowship, and to our son and his girlfriend for including us into their holiday family get together.  It wasn’t the big tree in the living room with the lights and the gifts, it wasn’t the warm fire and kids playing, it wasn’t Vera’s grand feast of wonderful food, but it was Christmas and we each other and God and we  are happy.

How Did This Happen?

     There are times, when I am tired and just begin to crawl into bed, that I begin to think.  Bad idea, you say, and I agree with you.  It came to me, suddenly, that I am old!  I don't feel old.  I don't look particularly old, but the calendar doesn't lie.  Getting old, and being old, don't necessarily cause me any angst, so what then is my problem?

     I begin to reflect on my past.  It was filled with great parents, wonderful experiences, (some joyful, some sad) that say to me; You've Lived!  So many funny moments, moments filled with adventure and desire.  People who have defined me in so many ways.  My high school English teacher who opened my eyes to culture and art.  My football coach who helped define my ideas of honor and teamwork.  My fellow workers that shared a common burden and managed to keep their humanity.  All good you say.

     My problem is the idea that it all may be coming to an end!  And that end is not that far away!  I am a man of Faith and have Hope in Eternity, but I don't seem to be able to get away from the idea that "I" have an end!  I don't want to end, I want to continue for ever.  My mind says, silly man, "All men are mortal", but my gut says can't we work something out?  It is disconcerting to have these thoughts, although, I imagine that I am not the only one who has them.  So what are we to do? Maybe God is telling me, "Buck up, sissy pants".   The reality is that all that thinking makes me depressed and vaguely anxious.   I do not want to go "softly into the good night".

   I am alive!  I want to continue to think, act, dream and believe in life and action and laughter.  I am looking forward to making new friends, finding new lovers, creating new art, and "boldly going where no person has ever been before".  At least I want to stop worrying so much about it.

   Got any thoughts?