Buoyed by the overwhelming approval and encouragement of thousands of fans who read my last blog, i have decided to create another one detailing my journey from Grantham, New Hampshire to Okaloosa Island, Florida. OK, fine, there really weren't thousands of fans, there were...two. And they didn't exactly encourage me, unless "You're not going to do another blog, are you?" is encouragement. Tough luck, I'm doing one anyway. Just try not reading this. It's impossible.
This journey can be measured in several different ways. In miles, it's about 2,000. (There's a major detour to Venice, Florida, in case you are checking the math). But, that is just a number. This is also a spiritual odyssey, one in which I leave behind my former life in New England and replace it with an unknown life on the Panhandle. My former life was wonderful: a happy and long marriage, two sons who made us proud, a daughter-in-law who is more of a daughter, twin grandchildren who may actually be cuter than yours, a lovely condo, a gorgeous lake and golf course, terrific friends both recent and vintage, even a retirement job that provided a lot of laughs.
...until October 1, 2009.
The sad events of that day paved the way for this journey. When I think about it, it's hard to determine what I am running away from and what I am running to. (Hobbling is more accurate.) I'm sure there is a little of both in the decision. If the events of October 1 started this journey on its way, then the events of Monday, January 18 rammed it into overdrive. On that day I happily accepted an offer made on my condo, which I had put on the market just two weeks before.
Upon accepting the offer my first thought was, "I'm homeless." I've never been homeless. I've been senseless, useless, pantless, shirtless, keyless, and faultless. Never homeless. When that occurred to me, I smiled, a little sadly. Ada used to tease me by calling me "The Planner." I hardly ever improvised; I took great pleasure in planning and anticipating all contingencies. I admit it was not a very exciting way to live...but in 41 years we were never late for anything!
That should count for something, shouldn't it?
So how much would Ada be laughing at the thought that when I pack up and leave for Florida on February 21, I have no idea where I will be living after March 31? Of course, true to my planner nature, I've already made contacts with local realtors and asked them to look for rentals on my behalf. A small dose of OCD is not always a bad thing.
The preparations for this Odyssey began when the condo was sold. The buyers wanted to move in by the end of February. I had to make a decision about every item in the condo: take it? sell it? store it? chuck it? donate it? bequeath it? burn it? fillet it? OK, those last two were not part of the decision process, but I was enjoying the rhythm of the sentence. It's my blog, remember?
What a great scenario for a planner!
I had been told initially that the buyers were interested in the furniture. I will be moving to a furnished place so this was good news. I wanted to take as little as possible with me. One thing this odyssey has taught me is that my "sentimental gene" is missing. I have discovered that I have little or no emotional attachment to "stuff." Even a beautiful hand-made table that Ada and I had bought in Boothbay, Maine about 40 years ago was just more stuff as far as I was concerned. I hope this deficiency doesn't make me a bad person, but it's all just furniture to me. Of course I do have an emotional attachment to the thousands of pictures, personal knickknacks, and memory-specific items that adorn this place. Wherever I live, I want to be able to look at pictures of Ada, Josh, Matt, Cindy, Sam, Sara, and the Grantham Pizza Chef. This is where my heart resides. I also need to be surrounded by as much Red Sox merchandise as possible. As they say, "You can take the boy out of Dorchester..."
A couple of days ago I was informed by the realtor that the new occupants no longer wanted to buy the furniture. I started asking around about auction/estate people and was told about a man from Bradford, VT who will come in, quickly assess the contents and offer me a sum. He will also clean out the condo of ALL UNWANTED CONTENTS. That was music to my ears. He showed up on schedule, we agreed upon a sum and he's scheduled to "clean me out" on Saturday, Feb 20. I guess it's kind of a condo colonoscopy.
...A perfect image on which to say goodbye for now. Check back in a couple of weeks for the departure.
Much love,
J
This journey can be measured in several different ways. In miles, it's about 2,000. (There's a major detour to Venice, Florida, in case you are checking the math). But, that is just a number. This is also a spiritual odyssey, one in which I leave behind my former life in New England and replace it with an unknown life on the Panhandle. My former life was wonderful: a happy and long marriage, two sons who made us proud, a daughter-in-law who is more of a daughter, twin grandchildren who may actually be cuter than yours, a lovely condo, a gorgeous lake and golf course, terrific friends both recent and vintage, even a retirement job that provided a lot of laughs.
...until October 1, 2009.
The sad events of that day paved the way for this journey. When I think about it, it's hard to determine what I am running away from and what I am running to. (Hobbling is more accurate.) I'm sure there is a little of both in the decision. If the events of October 1 started this journey on its way, then the events of Monday, January 18 rammed it into overdrive. On that day I happily accepted an offer made on my condo, which I had put on the market just two weeks before.
Upon accepting the offer my first thought was, "I'm homeless." I've never been homeless. I've been senseless, useless, pantless, shirtless, keyless, and faultless. Never homeless. When that occurred to me, I smiled, a little sadly. Ada used to tease me by calling me "The Planner." I hardly ever improvised; I took great pleasure in planning and anticipating all contingencies. I admit it was not a very exciting way to live...but in 41 years we were never late for anything!
That should count for something, shouldn't it?
So how much would Ada be laughing at the thought that when I pack up and leave for Florida on February 21, I have no idea where I will be living after March 31? Of course, true to my planner nature, I've already made contacts with local realtors and asked them to look for rentals on my behalf. A small dose of OCD is not always a bad thing.
The preparations for this Odyssey began when the condo was sold. The buyers wanted to move in by the end of February. I had to make a decision about every item in the condo: take it? sell it? store it? chuck it? donate it? bequeath it? burn it? fillet it? OK, those last two were not part of the decision process, but I was enjoying the rhythm of the sentence. It's my blog, remember?
What a great scenario for a planner!
I had been told initially that the buyers were interested in the furniture. I will be moving to a furnished place so this was good news. I wanted to take as little as possible with me. One thing this odyssey has taught me is that my "sentimental gene" is missing. I have discovered that I have little or no emotional attachment to "stuff." Even a beautiful hand-made table that Ada and I had bought in Boothbay, Maine about 40 years ago was just more stuff as far as I was concerned. I hope this deficiency doesn't make me a bad person, but it's all just furniture to me. Of course I do have an emotional attachment to the thousands of pictures, personal knickknacks, and memory-specific items that adorn this place. Wherever I live, I want to be able to look at pictures of Ada, Josh, Matt, Cindy, Sam, Sara, and the Grantham Pizza Chef. This is where my heart resides. I also need to be surrounded by as much Red Sox merchandise as possible. As they say, "You can take the boy out of Dorchester..."
A couple of days ago I was informed by the realtor that the new occupants no longer wanted to buy the furniture. I started asking around about auction/estate people and was told about a man from Bradford, VT who will come in, quickly assess the contents and offer me a sum. He will also clean out the condo of ALL UNWANTED CONTENTS. That was music to my ears. He showed up on schedule, we agreed upon a sum and he's scheduled to "clean me out" on Saturday, Feb 20. I guess it's kind of a condo colonoscopy.
...A perfect image on which to say goodbye for now. Check back in a couple of weeks for the departure.
Much love,
J
