Dreams.

2011 October 15

[written while on vacation in NC with my DH, SIL, nephew and two brothers, before getting on the road, in our motorhome]

Over the last few nights I sensed more than remembered working out some lingering "stuff" in my dreams. Perhaps because I am away from the day to day preparation for getting on the road, my mind is finding it easier to sort through some of the complex relationships that have been neglected in the chaos. I found myself dreaming about people from New Hope Church. I haven't retained many details, but the overall sense is that I have disappointed some whom I call my friends. Is that truth, or just a reflection of my perpetual guilt? I suppose one way to get to the root would be to talk to the people I can remember dreaming about. I am not sure either they or I can really do that, though.

There is a veil of sadness that seems to envelope my relationships with many at New Hope Church. Whether that comes from me, from them or from a combination of us, I don't really know. Perhaps both they and I felt abandoned. After all, I simply disappeared from the community and the very few folks who did reach out to me, I avoided because I couldn't find an honest way to tell the story without edging it in anger toward Rodger Woodworth. Even now, it's hard to say that the reason I left New Hope Church was because my then Pastor suggested that "perhaps it's time for you to find another church". Granted, I could've mentioned that if we were truly a church based on reconciliation, telling me to find another church because of personality differences between myself and the lead pastor was hypocritical. But, at that point I could no longer sit under a man for whom I had so little respect, so I welcomed the escape. It didn't occur to me that to simply leave the fellowship without explanation would hurt me so much. Neither did it occur to me that many in the body would simply continue on without any thought as to my departure.

There were some folks who knew the whole story. They were ones whom I thought were close enough to me to be confided in without worry about gossip. Perhaps I was wrong. It seems that there may have been some sharing, but how much I don't know for sure.

All of this is moot at this point in time, I guess. I have since returned to New Hope after encouragement from one of the Elders. Rodger is no longer lead Pastor. Yet there still seems to be some unfinished business. Yet I have no clue how to address what I feel is unfinished.

So while I am away from my daily routine, my sleeping self is addressing some of this unfinished business. Each night I dream about different people and different relationships. Sometimes I remember only the people in the dreams. Other times I awake with only a general sense of what I dreamed about and an even more general feeling that my sleeping self is working out whatever needs to be addressed.

I am slowly coming to grips with the idea that life in all its aspects is fluid. Perhaps nothing lasts forever. When I initially came to New Hope, I was certain that I had come "home". And, indeed, for a while I had. Yet, the dynamic of the church changed and the change had a negative affect on me. And that's OK.

What hasn't changed is the fact that Jesus is Lord. That is the most important lesson to have taken away from this whole episode. And there are lesser examples of insights and morals uncovered as well. And as my brain works through the layers of my subconscious, I am learning to trust that all will be fine, eventually.

Happy Birthday, Bobby

2012 May 24

Happy Birthday, Bob

No, not Bob Dylan. 

My brother, Bob, or Bobby, as we more often call him. He is baby brother number 2, born when I was five years old. He was named after our cousin, Bobby Rase, for whom our Mom had real affection. Bobby Rase may have also been my brother's Godfather, but those details have long since slipped from my memory.

I also have no memory of when Bobby was born, except that when our Mom was in the hospital, in those times, for about 5-7 days, she sent notes home for me and Billy regarding our new addition, as well as those little jellies that come with hospital toast. Other than that, I can't remember anything about that time, which would've been spring of 1955. No memory of the homecoming, nor of who cared for me and Billy while Daddy worked and Mom was away. Strange isn't it, what the mind hangs onto and what it allows to disappear?

I remember Bobby as a toddler and a pre-schooler, although we didn't use those terms in the 1950s. I remember him as a surly child with most people, although I also remember that he lit up around our Mom. I don't recall much interaction with Bobby, and the few vivid memories I have are of unpleasant situations. Sorry, Bobby. Perhaps that is as much my brain's fault, as it is your surliness as a kid.

One of the incidents that stands out in my memory was from a summer holiday, maybe Memorial Day, or July 4th, when Bobby was about 4 or 5. My Dad took us kids, who probably numbered five at the time, (although we may have only had four of us at home, if Billy had been relocated at that point. Another memory gap), to his sister's house about a half mile away. I am sure we walked there, because we didn't have a car. It was uphill over a cobblestone road, not heavily traveled at that time. At Aunt Barb's there was a huge (to us) grassy backyard and a very large covered porch. I remember Uncle Joe squirting us with a hose. It was nice to be with my Dad's family, aunts, uncles, cousins, but it didn't happen very often. 

At some point in the course of the day, Bobby took it upon himself to leave. Again, the memory doesn't exist as to why. But, he left, and walked the half mile home alone. Not sure what he told Mom. What I most remember is the huge fight between our parents when Daddy brought the rest of us home later in the day. Mom was livid that such a small child was "allowed" to walk home alone. Daddy was just as livid that Bobby would take it upon himself to leave without saying a word to anyone. That argument is the thing I most remember about that day.

My other vivid memory of Bobby happened during the late spring of my senior year in high school, so it was 1968. Our Mom was in the hospital having her gallbladder removed. In 1968, that was major surgery, involving incisions and drainage tubes, so I'm guessing that Mummu was in the hospital for at least a week. One evening, Daddy had gone to the hospital to visit Mummy and we kids were home on our own. I was eighteen, Bobby, thirteen, and the other player in this memory, our brother Dave, was ten.

For some reason, Bobby and Davey had gotten into a yelling match, in the kitchen, that was becoming a fist fight. Since Bobby was older, bigger and heavier than Dave, I felt like it was my responsibility, as the oldest kid, to step in and put a stop to it before anybody got hurt or bloodied. I stepped between them, and got Bobby away from David. In his rage, Bobby proceeded to knock me to the floor, on my stomach, sit on my bottom and pummel my back with his fists, until Vinny, (our 11 year old brother) pulled him off me. After that experience, I was always a bit afraid of Bobby and kept some distance between us. In fact, I left the house that night and sat on the porch until Daddy got home from visiting Mom. I was too afraid to go back into the house with Bobby in there.

Years have gone by. Bobby has had plenty of ups and downs, and I have tried to be there for him, but there has never been the connection that I feel for most of my siblings.

Bobby was the first person in our family to become a Christian. Then, he met and married a woman who shared his values.  

Then I came to faith in Christ, as my savior. I thought that finally Bobby and I had some common ground. Well, we do, but it isn't enough on which to build a friendship. We have too many personality differences and too much history. Not to say that I don't love him, because I do, but not in a way that makes me look forward to spending time together. I am sure the feeling is mutual. Bobby loves me, but not in a way that makes him want to spend time developing a relationship. 

Bobby, I know you'll never read this, because of your seizure disorder and your inability to use a computer, but I had to write it anyway. I don't want you or me to feel guilt because we are not close as siblings. We both are who we are. I appreciate the poems and scripture you've shared at times when my life was a rocky path. I like remembering the times I came to hear you sing at your church, and the times you came for poetry and worship ant mine. I hope that in time, those memories will help to displace the older, less pleasant ones. 

Perhaps one of the reasons we are not close is that we are too similar, carry too many of the same burdens. We each, in our own way, carry the burden of Mummy's mental illness and her tendency to play favorites among her kids. But know this: I do love you, as my brother in Christ and I do wish you a Happy Birthday. 

Mother's Day

2012 May 13

It's Mother's Day. Not one of my favorite pretend holidays. My own Mom died in 1976, of lung cancer. I was 26 years old, and the oldest of eight kids. The youngest, Jimmy, was only 5 when Mummy died. 

When R and I married, we assumed we would have children. But that was not to be.

R's Mom was very much alive for many years, so I suppose I had a surrogate Mom in Adelaide. Unfortunately, because I still bore so much anger toward my own Mom, it wasn't until much later in our relationship, that Adelaide and I became close. 

I've had other surrogate mom people in my life over the years: Pauline, who was my neighbor for 20+ years; Marlene, who is probably my age, or younger, but has such a warm, maternal spirit, that when I met her she just seemed like "Mom".

But Mother's Day, in general, makes me sad. Sad for what could've been, both with my own Mom, and in my life. 

My Mom was adopted in 1927, when she was 6 months old. Her name at adoption was Virginia ___________. All I know of her birth name is that it began with a "B" and that according to my paternal grandmother, it sounded Lithuanian. My mom was dark haired, dark eyed and had a slightly olive complexion. And although she spoke of being adopted sometimes, I don't think she ever really shared how deeply she longed to belong and to have something that was hers, except with her close friend, AnnaMae, and with my Dad.

Whatever her origins, she was born at Rosalia Foundling Home, that much she shared. She supposed that her own birth mother was a young, unwed woman. Beyond that, she shared nothing. 

Whether her insecurities or her genetics, or some combination of the two were the cause, my Mum was a sad, depressed woman, coming into her own in a time of repression. The 40s & 50s were not the time when one analyzed ones feelings, and sought treatment for such ailments. 

She and my Dad managed to produce eight kids. Not very long ago, a family friend told me that my Mom once shared with her that the happiest times in her life were when she was pregnant. No wonder she was pregnant so often. I often wish that she had lived longer. Mostly for selfish reasons, but also because, the times are different now and maybe she could've been treated and actually had some degree of peace and happiness with medication to balance whatever imbalances were part of her makeup.

And, I wonder how she would've counseled me when I faced my own crisis of depression and infertility. 

Years of therapy helped me to dispose of my anger toward my Mom for what I viewed as her shortcomings. Now, I am simply sorry that none of the good Christians who were among her in-laws and in her own adoptive family, reached out to help her. Instead, too often, they criticized her behind her back, and in front of her children, made her out to be the bad guy.

I am sorry for the scars inflicted upon her by the community and times in which she lived, and by her on some of her own kids. Families are complex organisms and even more complicated when some form of mental illness is present. 

Mom, Happy Mother's Day.

April

2012 Apr 1


I started out trying to discover what exactly causes the melancholy I seem to experience with the start of each April. My first thoughts had more to do with Raymond and his diminished sense of family, which lead me to thoughts of my family.


Tomorrow is the birthday of my first baby brother. Thoughts of his life always bring with them regrets for all he suffered, none of which was his fault. Our family of origin, as the psycho-speak goes, in majorly dysfunctional. And not in the "we put the FUN in dysfunctional" way.


Suffice to say that when my brother was about four, I think, he went to live with our Mom's Aunt and Uncle, for a couple of years. I don't remember much about what all precipitated the move. I do remember, years later, being told by the Aunt who took him in, that he has been beaten so badly, that she had to do something. Neither do I remember when exactly he came back to live with us. I do remember that when the same Aunt and Uncle came for him again, he may have been in third grade. I do remember watching him as he packed his little belongings and the look of pain/relief in his eyes. I remember the song that was playing on the radio and that for years, when I heard it, I would cry, without remembering why.


Perhaps when he left it was April. 

April Fools Day

2012 April 1


What is it about the beginning of April that makes me feel so melancholy?  When we were in Pittsburgh, I thought this affliction was due to the unpredictability of spring in Pennsylvania. But, having been in what basically is either deep spring or early summer since late December, I fear blame cannot be affixed to seasonal changes. Must be something else.




April 1 is R's sister's birthday. That may be contributory. For reasons still unknown to us, she cut herself off from Raymond and, we assume, the rest of her family. When their parents moved, first into an apartment, and later into an assisted living facility, she had no involvement in the processes. Later, when their Mom died, unexpectedly, followed by their Dad a few months later, she didn't even travel to Pittsburgh. All of that comes back each April 1. R has made attempts to contact his sister. The last one resulted in her hanging up on him. Needless to say, he hasn't attempted it again. There was a time, when I was first getting to know R (many, many, many years ago) that I was with him when we happened upon her at Conneaut Lake Park. I didn't know she was his sister. I still remember the joy on his face when he saw her, and I can still remember thinking, "Wow! there is a really intense relationship here. Whoever this woman is, I better rethink my own relationship with Raymond  in the face of this!" We all laughed about it later when introductions were made. But remembering the look on both of their faces that day makes it harder to understand how it all changed so drastically, 20 some years later.




There was no argument between R and her. There were never any mean words exchanged. Just suddenly, without explanation, total withdrawal from what was, up till then, a warm, loving brother-sister relationship.




Part of me grieves for what R has lost. Not just the relationship with his sister, but also the loss of his parents. Sometimes I think it must be very difficult for him to have only one brother, with whom he shares very little, either emotionally or intellectually. Of course, he has me. But there are so many diminished or completely changed or gone relationships in his life, that I sometimes wonder at the amount of inner strength he must have to maintain his calm demeanor.

Happy Birthday, Dave!

2012 March 19


Happy Birthday, Dave!  Don't know if you'll read this or not, but I wanted to tell you that I hope your birthday is special. I wish there was some way you could join us in Arkansas. We have reservations at Crater of Diamonds State Park this Wednesday, following your birthday. Knowing how much you enjoy treasure hunting, and remembering "who took my diamonds", makes me think that you would enjoy this part of our journey.  Maybe we will get to travel there again sometime and you could come, too.


Thinking about you and feeling just the tiniest bit homesick. Only, homesick doesn't really seem like the right word, now that R & Greyla & me are traveling in our home. I think you and Vinny and I would have a blast at Crater of Diamonds. Ray's only really going to humor me :) 


Someone mentioned something about a place in North Carolina where you can search for gem stones, but they didn't remember much about it. I'm going to do some research. Maybe that would be someplace that we can meet up while Ray & I are on the road.


Well, number 4, baby brother, I do hope you have a great birthday. Maybe someone will remember that you like cheesecake and get you some. 


HIPPO BIRD DAY TWO EWES! 

A ReBirthday

2012 March 10

While staying at Sunset Isle Park, in Cedar Key, Florida, we met a man named Art Townsend. He wrote a book called, "Time's Up, the Story of My Death and Learning What It Means to Live". Every now and again, someone comes into my life whom I feel certain was placed there by God's hand. Art is one of those people.

His book tells the story of his literal death, and the measures taken to bring him back into this life. He touches on so much that affects us in this modern life we lead. One thing that jumped out at me, was the need many of us have to clean up our eating. In particular, Art speaks of the unhealthy relationship some of us have with food. If you are one of those who use food as a comfort, as a reward, as a weapon, as anything other than what God intended it to be, I'm sure you will recognize what Art is talking about. I am one of these people. Art is not the first person God has placed in my path regarding this particular issue. He is simply the latest and the one that felt like a smack upside my head.

I am grateful for a God who cares enough about His sinful creation to intervene. I pray to be the kind of creature who responds in a loving way to this intervention. At the moment, I'm still trying to sort out the food angle of my life, but I know it's not about the food. Before I became obsessive about food, I was obsessive about sex.  

When R and I married, it was important to me that I be faithful and sexually exclusive in our marriage. Perhaps this is oversimplification, but one way for me to be "unattractive" and to feel nonsexual, was to gain weight.  There was a sexual assault by someone close to both R and me, which added fuel to my depression and yet more pounds to my frame. Add to that the struggles we had with infertility, which increased my depressive tendencies and also increased my weight. My fat became my safety blanket. I hated it, but I needed it to feel safe, since I didn't trust myself nor anyone else. So, I continued to gain weight, hoping to insulate myself even further.


In the nearly two weeks since we met Art, and I read his book, I have done some psyche searching. Perhaps I don't have answers yet, but at least I'm asking what I hope are the right questions. I'm sure now that neither food, nor sex are the deepest issue. The next layer of this emotional onion will be peeled and the next, until I get to the core of this issue. But, for now, I am glad to start. And glad that I didn't have to die, like Art did.

I am grateful that God decided to hit me with that two by four disguised as Art Townsend. I am certain that it was what I like to call a Godincidence (instead of coincidence) that Art gave us his book on the morning of my birthday, when the gifts I had just received were all sugar laden food items. 

This has been a time of reflection and the beginning of recognizing patterns of behavior that need to be changed for something better. It reminds me that we are all works in progress. Making changes in lifestyle choices isn't always easy, but if it leads to a closer relationship with the God who loves us, then it is good.

Privacy and Potential

2012 January 25

How is it possible for the day to go from 'just fine' to 'how did I get so bummed'? I'll tell you how. First, the area of the RV park you are staying in, suddenly becomes extremely crowded. Where there were three empty lots across the street and beside you, there are now people. In a park where the lots are smallish to begin with and where they have it set up so that you and one neighbor end up facing each other's 'yard', there is suddenly a real claustrophobic feeling. Second, you get email regarding the house you wish to sell that mentions a leak in the roof.

I don't want to be the kind of person who allows stuff like this to drastically change my mood. But, damn it, I am! 

OK, the RV park has been a sticking point since we got here. Every park we've been in so far has been set up so that the awning and entry door side of our couch faces the slide out area of the coach beside us. It allows for the illusion of privacy. Here, our slide butts up to the slide of the people on our left, but our awning/entry side faces the awning/entry of the people to our right. Not only is there no illusion of privacy, there is no actual privacy. For example, sitting in the dinette area yesterday evening, listening to the Pens game, I could hear our neighbors conversation while they watched the State of the Union address. It is simply too close for comfort. I suppose if it were hot, and we had the windows closed and the AC on, it wouldn't matter. But the weather is perfect for leaving windows open. OK, it's a first world problem. I get that. I'll try to adapt, especially since it's not long term for us.

The house though, is not such an easily adaptable issue. We knew it would be a tough sell. Granted, it's a brick house, solidly built. It is on a double, fenced city lot, with trees. It is also in a marginal neighborhood. But, having taken all that into account, we wanted to sell the house for $35K. Our agent, said no, absolutely not and listed it for $49K. Now, today's news is there's a leak in the roof. There have been a few showings, but the feedback is always the same: "lots of potential, but too much work". What can I say? That's exactly the reason I never wanted to live there to begin with! There IS a lot of potential, but there is ALSO lots of work. I did what I could while we lived there. Raymond did what he could. But the fact of the matter is that neither one of us really did all that needed to be done. And if we didn't still owe money on the mortgage, we would give the house away! But we DO still owe money, so we need to sell it. We're not interested in making a profit, but we need to sell it for enough money to pay what we still owe, as well as all the incurred costs that come with selling.

OK, so the RV park stuff will change when we leave here. And I guess too close for real comfort can be dealt with for another nine days. As for the house stuff, if you know anyone who might be interested in a four bedroom, brick, with a fireplace, fenced yard and lots of potential, let me know and I'll give you our agent's number.

I AM NOT A GOOD PATIENT

2012 Jan 21

Something weird is going on with my head and stomach for the past couple of days. I wake up in the morning feeling pretty good. Then, as the day progresses, I begin to feel headachey and extremely tired. Sometimes, the tiredness and headache are accompanied by nausea and the absolute need to sleep through most of the afternoon. It's very disconcerting. I need to do some research to see if these could be reactions caused by what for me may be too much sun. I have had a fairly low tolerance to sun exposure since having severe sun poisoning many years ago. I also have low tolerance to high temperatures. Because of these intolerances, I generally limit my time in the sun and in high temperatures.

Today, I sat out in the morning sun, reading. Not long, just two chapters worth. When I came inside, I was feeling OK. I had lunch. Took the dog for a brief walk. Then suddenly, I was sick. Terrible headache, followed shortly, by a feeling of being so tired that I HAD to lie down. I fell into our bed and slept rather fitfully, until I awoke with an overwhelming feeling of nausea a few hours later. My first thought was, "Too much sun". My second was, "Not enough water". I did what I could to remedy the lack of water intake and thought that perhaps it really was a simple dehydration problem. The evening has passed relatively uneventfully. But, now, as the hour becomes later, I can feel the headache beginning again, at the base of my skull and the cycle begins again. 

Last night the headache resulted in me taking some ibuprofen at 4:30AM, and sleeping in till 9 this morning. I don't want to become reliant on ibuprofen to allow me to sleep. Especially since one of the recurring issues I'm having involves nausea. The ibuprofen certainly won't help that symptom!

Crap! I am not a good patient. I just want to feel good. 

Happy Birthday, Jimmy

2012 January 13

Happy Birthday, baby, baby Brother! I remember the day you were born like it was yesterday. 

The day was cold, windy and icy. I was back home for a long visit. Mummy was out of sorts that day. Then around 11 AM she began to complain of low back pain. Having no personal experience with pregnancy, I was feeling a little nervous and I kept asking Mummy if she was in labor. Her answer was ambiguous and I remember yelling at her that this was her eighth pregnancy, how could she not know if she was in labor or not!

I wanted to call an ambulance to take her to the hospital, but she wanted to take a bath first. That made no sense to me, but once Mummy decided something there was no changing her mind.

After her brief bath, I insisted on calling the ambulance and Daddy, at work. 

The ambulance and Daddy seemed to arrive simultaneously. The paramedics were having trouble navigating the icy sidewalk and all those steps at our 57th Street house. I remember the relief I felt when I saw Daddy walking up the street! Finally, the paramedics decided to simply support Mummy as they made the decent on our front steps. They got her settled into the ambulance and Daddy hopped in and off they went to St. Margaret's. It was approximately 12:50 PM.

At 1:30 PM, the phone rang. I answered and Daddy said, "Well, kid, it's all over". My heart stopped for a microsecond. I stammered, "What? What do you mean?" His response was, "You have another brother!" with just a hint of pride in his voice. Daddy said that the doctor told him he got into the delivery room in just enough time to catch you as you arrived! Apparently, all that low back pain Mummy was having was back labor, which she had never experienced in all of those other pregnancies. You were unique.

You were also a contented baby. I was sleeping on the couch during the visit and you slept in a small crib in the living room with me at night. The reason was that you had some sort of nasal malformation and the doctor told Mummy that you shouldn't be moved from room to room with varying temperatures. So, I took on the late evening and during the night feedings. I have no memory of you being whiny or whimpery. I remember that you often took a bottle at 11PM or midnight and then slept through the night, sometimes till 6 or 7AM.

You were sweet and I remember whispering "I love you" to you as I held you. 

I am happy to have you as my baby, baby brother, Jim. I am glad that Mummy didn't listen to me when I advised her to have an abortion when she called me in Kansas and told me she 'thought' she was pregnant. You have been a lifeline for Daddy, I think. When Mummy died, if Daddy hadn't have had you to care for, I think he would've curled up in a ball and died himself. 

There are so many things I could say about you, but maybe that's for another blog. For right now, I just want to wish you a happy birthday and to tell you that I still love you.

Happy New Year

2011 DEC 31

If you're here for profound thoughts about the passing on another year, you're in the wrong blog :-D

This year has been one of transitions in many ways. I transitioned from caring for Nicky and Anamaria, to being retired. The transition involved in downsizing our stuff has been an ongoing process for the past 18 months. We bought our RV and began the real downsizing to fit our life into a Class C recreational vehicle, in July. Raymond spent all of the summer incapacitated in one way or another. First, with his dislocated shoulder in June, followed by his ruptured Achilles tendon in August. Those injuries made his transition into being fully retired (from UPS and from Macy's) happen differently than he had planned.  His need to follow up with physical therapy, caused us to postpone our "on the road" date more than once.

But, after all the plan-changing, postponements and emotional angst, here it is New Year's Eve 2011 and we are thousands of miles from Pittsburgh. We are looking at the dawning of a new year and a new way of life for us. At Christmas I cried tears of sadness and homesickness, not for the place I left, but for the people, my family and friends. Tonight I may cry again, but not from sorrow or even missing folks. No, tonight the tears are just tears. We are beginning anew and sometimes even in the good times, tears need to flow to water the plans and dreams yet to come.

So far, this simpler life is still unfolding, but we like what we've experienced so far. And bringing in the New Year with the Atlantic Ocean on one side and the Gulf of Florida on the other is not too shabby! (Even if we will both be sound asleep when the new year rolls in.)

On The Road

2011 Dec 27

We left Pittsburgh on December 16 at 5pm. The actual departure was late, very late, when compared with our estimated departure. Initially we thought to leave Pittsburgh in mid November. Circumstances kept pushing the date further and further along until we finally just said, "ENOUGH!". And despite having multiple  problems in the RV,we made an appointment for the warrantied repairs to be done once we reached Florida, so we decided to hit the road. Many folks on various RV pages suggested NOT doing what we did. Many counselled returning to the dealer where we bought the RV. But, after multiple phone calls, including one to the manufacturer, we felt our interests were better served by scheduling in Florida. Not that we didn't spend a little time second-guessing  ourselves. But, in the end, our decision turned out to be a good one. Thank God.

We originally planned to depart Pittsburgh in late morning. Well, you know what they say about the best laid plans? OK, how about consistently disrupted, ever changing plans? As things turned out, we were pulling out of our yard as dark descended, the one thing we swore we wouldn't do. Of course, we knew we weren't going to drive very far in the dark, but we needed to at least get out of Pittsburgh and Pennsylvania.

We were battered, emotionally and physically, and desperately in need of showers. Our last showers had been on Wednesday morning before the gas to the house was shut off. We drove as far as Morgantown, WV. There we got a motel room that was grossly over-priced, had filthy hallway carpets and that pervading "motel" smell. What it did have, was a clean bathroom and great hot water!  I liked it so much that I showered twice! 

Onward! Our appointment in Seffner, FL for repairs was scheduled for Dec 22 at 8AM, so we knew we didn't need to rush. Plus one of the things that makes driving the RV enjoyable is getting in the right lane, setting the cruise control and allowing everyone to pass you. 

As we drove through WV I was hoping to meet up an Internet friend currently living in Lewisburg. We opted not to call him, though, since he had just left Pittsburgh himself on Friday and I was concerned that he would be either at work, or exhausted. That was a dumb thing to do. First lesson of interpersonal dynamics learned on the road: MAKE THE CALL; Let the person make their own decisions. (Bobby, I'm sorry.) 

We drove on, through Virginia, where I can report that the drivers are as insane in the mountains as they are along 95 and 64. After a brief stop at a rest area in VA, where we were trying to take a nap, unsuccessfully, we pressed on toward the North Carolina Hills.

The place we choose to stop for the night was a lovely rest area with lots of little islands of trees. We slept well. Although, the temperature dropped more than we expected and we had to get up in the middle of the night and turn the furnace on, but at least we had a furnace! Since we had no water pump, we had no water in the holding tank, so washing up & teeth brushing were accomplished with a small jug of water. Flushing we managed with a container of water that we filled from when we drained the house. This was a tall container that we were keeping inside the non-usable shower. It was almost like rough camping, except in an RV.

About this point in our journey, I started to feel sick. And so did Greyla. Poor pupper vomited which is very unlike her. Then she developed diarrhea. My yuckiness was briefly intestinal, but finally fully manifest as a sore throat, and raspy cough. This turn of events more than any other, led to our first stay in a Thousand Trails campground in South Carolina. 

Originally, we had  planned to stay one or two nights in The Oaks at Point South. However, it was warm there, in the 60s & 70s. My cold and cough were wretched and the campground was free to us as TT members. Plus, we could walk to the local crossroads for anything essential, like bread, newspaper or ginger ale, since it was less than a mile. We stayed on until Wednesday morning, happy to be in warmth, with plenty of time for rest and recuperation.

Since our appointment at Lazydays Service Department was for early Thursday morning, we had planned to arrive in Seffner, check into the Lazydays Campground before dark and be up and ready for the service department at 8 AM.

Again, the best laid plans... We hit some construction and rush hour, delaying our arrival at the campground till just at dusk. When we stopped to register at the guard station, we were told that we could dry camp right down at the Service Dept for free. Instead, we opted to pay and camped directly across from access to showers, jacuzzi, heated swimming pool and a little bistro where you could get something to eat & drink. The only hairy part was backing into the site. But, fortunately, the couple behind us were fluent in sign language and helped greatly, since their English was as non existent as our French.

Lazydays is a huge facility with the campground & resort, plus the dealership, service and a Camping World Store. Our experience with them was very positive. We met with Kim, who was our service contact person. She double checked all the info regarding what wasn't working and was straightforward in letting us know that if there needed to be parts ordered, the repairs wouldn't happen until sometime in January. We said that we understood, but intended to "keep a good thought" that they would have what was needed in stock. But, if we had to wait for ordered parts, we certainly understood and would cross that bridge when necessary.

We spent the entire day at the Lazydays Service Dept. They provided a free breakfast and lunch, as well as random snacks, bottled water and Starbucks coffee. Our dog was welcome in half of the huge waiting area and their high speed wireless connection was zippy! If I had been feeling healthier, I'm sure we could've gone to the swimming pool while we waited. In any case, nine hours later, we once again had a functioning shower, water pump, TV,  stove fan and light. And we are grateful to the Thor representative, Mike, who suggested going to whomever would schedule an appointment the soonest. I would've loved to stay right there, except that it wasn't really in the budget. And, truth be told, it may have been a bit 'close' after a few days, since the sights are rather small. But it was a good experience overall.

While waiting at Lazydays, we attempted to find another TT site that we could stay at for free. There was availability at Peace River, but when comparing photos with the Encore Manatee Resort, we opted for Manatee. Even though it is a greater out of pocket expense, the ease of location and the many amenities made it seem like a good choice. We've been here since late Thursday and plan, so far, to stay until Dec 29, although we may rethink that.

Raymond very much wants to head to the FL Keys, but they are very pricey, even with membership discounts. He would like to camp on the beach, too. We also would like to see our friends, who live in North Port, just south of where we are now. Not sure exactly what we're doing next. And I suppose that is the point of all this, but it's a difficult mindset for me to acclimate to. In time I suppose I'll adjust, but for right now, I'd be slightly more comfortable with more concrete plans. 

All in all, despite the rough start, these first eleven days have been good. Christmas Eve was emotionally very hard and I was extremely homesick, but then I talked to many of my brothers and my sister and my Daddy and the sadness dissipated. We are rethinking our idea that we can have just the RV, without a towed vehicle for the full six months we had planned. But, all things in their time. 

An Old Dream, Reborn

2011 November 10

When Raymond and I were first together, we wanted a dog. A puppy actually. We were completely ignorant of some many factors at that time, that we got our dog from folks who had an ad in the Pennysaver, a "free to good home" ad. When I called to inquire about the puppies, I apparently offended the gentleman who placed the ad by asking if there were still puppies available. He responded to my question by telling me, "These ain't no mutts!" Seems his AKC registered Lab had managed to mate with the AKC registered Springer Spaniel next door. The result was a litter of puppies of which he was attempting to rid himself. He said that we were "in luck" because there was one that a woman had returned because her husband didn't want it. With stars in our eyes, a song in our hearts ("Me and You and a Dog Named Boo") we headed off to suburbia to check out the puppy. The story in a nutshell, was that the puppy crawled up into my lap and licked my face. Needless to say, we took home a puppy that night. 

We named her Blue. It was the only name we could agree on. So, our song became, "Me and You and a Dog Named Blue" We were in our very early 30s and loved traveling when we could and camping in our little backpacking tent and sometimes in our sad and pathetic Ford Pinto. Blue was our constant companion. She was our sentry when we camped. She would spend long nighttime hours staring out the screened tent flap. She spent time in NC at both the beach and the mountains, as well as in TN, VA, PA, NY, VT, NH, MA, MD, and WV. We often joked that Blue was more well traveled than most of the people in my family. Even after we added Jake, the yellow Lab mix to our family, we still traveled and camped when we could. 

Then "real life" began to interfere. We both worked jobs we disliked. We faced the burden of infertility and the death of the idea of "parenting". We bought a house I never wanted, which was always too much house for us. The neighborhood we lived in began to decline. We dealt with family emergencies, aging parents and family atrophy that we didn't understand. 

There were good times, too. 

We discovered that you could rent a house to vacation in and if there were beds, friends and/or family would come along. Our wanderlust became funneled into two trips to NC most years, one in the February and one in the fall. Raymond still had a job he disliked and in addition, he worked nights, which meant working from 11PM to 8 AM. I was more fortunate, I found a series of jobs as a nanny, which gave me somewhere to put all my  maternal leanings. And In between I also worked part time as a veterinary assistant and discovered I had a gift of empathy. We added and lost dogs and a cat to our family. We never had more than three dogs at a time, but that seemed to be a magic number for us. 

Fast forward to now. I awoke from what seemed to be a very long dream about 3AM. The dream had much  to do with our first dog, Blue. When I awoke, I spent some time reviewing the dream, as I knew it was important and I didn't want to miss any insights. Since I had no paper and pencil at my  bedside to chronicle the dream, I knew I had to do my best to review, evaluate and remember before allowing myself to go back to sleep. (And I am placing a notebook and pen at the bedside today!)

I won't bore you with all the details of the dream. Instead I will tell you what the dream showed me. "Me and You and a Dog Named Blue" became lost. After many false starts and jarring stops and inadequate direction, we are finding our way back to who we were. Gypsies, Old Hippies, 'fly-by-the -seat-of-our-pants' travelers, free spirits - this is who we once were. The dream showed me a part of us that I had nearly forgotten about. It was profound. It eased the jitters that I have been having about getting on the road. It reminded me of the who and what we were and can be again. Wherever the dream came from, I am grateful for it. I am grateful to recognize through whatever means, that we are who we are, regardless of whom we've tried to be over that past 30 years. And with that realization comes a sense of relief and calm.

We have been very blessed, I freely admit that.  Because of the when and where of our lives, we now as retired folks, have a good pension that will allow us to pick up where we left off nearly 30 years ago. But because of what we've been doing for the past 30 years, we get to upgrade from a tent and a Pinto to a motor home. We will travel the highways and byways until we get our fill. Raymond, me and a dog named Grey. It might not be as easily sung as the Blue song, but it is who we are and we celebrate that! 

2011 November 7

Lots on my mind

I have been releasing more of my stuff lately. Physical items and emotional baggage, as well. It is sometimes a difficult process, but even when hard, there are rewards. Last week we donated about 25 boxes of "stuff". Except for a few appliances, I really cannot remember the contents of most of those containers. Interesting how I was hanging on to things I now cannot even recall! This process has been a long one for me and it continues. In the time that we have been looking at motor homes and planning our escape from the city of our birth, I have been slowing ridding myself of extraneous stuff. So, my guess is that it has been a gradual, maybe three year journey for me to this point.

It has been the same amount of time for my husband, but his approach is so different. He has only begun to be able to let go of stuff in the past month or two. There are some things he still has difficulty parting with and that's OK. His process is different from mine. He had a major breakthrough today. He was able to pack into boxes for donation all except about ten of the books he's been holding on to. And, in being able to let those go, he also frees up the bookcase that his Dad made for him 30+ years ago. And since the bookcase is something his father made for him, he can't donate it to strangers. While it could've been stored at my brother's house, Raymond instead decided to ask his nephew if he would like it. That's a big step!

Yesterday, we packed up and moved to my brother's house all the art work that has hung on our walls for the last twenty years. Well, not ALL the art work. Some pieces were already down and donated or sold. But the ones that we couldn't bear to part with, are now living at my brother's.  I am very fond of things that hang on the wall. I love prints, pictures, painting and photographs. It is a bit of an obsession, actually. One of my favorite subjects is dogs, in particular, Labrador Retrievers. Usually, the piece evokes some emotional response related to one of the five dogs we've lived with over the years. The most special ones will remain with my brother until such time as we are again in a stationery, earthbound abode.  I am sorry that I gave away my Salvador Dali print, "The Sacrament of the Last Supper". But, that is such a small regret, that it doesn't really matter.

The real estate agent has been here. The house will be listed by mid November.  A clean out specialist has been here, evaluated what we haven't gotten rid of and given us an estimate for clearing out what will be left. I still need to buy a new kitchen door and have my neighbor install it. There are things to be delivered to my sister and to another of my brothers. Raymond has some clothing he cannot part with and that too will be stored at my brother's. Good thing he has a big house with an enormous attic! 

We are nearer to departure. Tomorrow morning Raymond has an appointment with the orthopedic doc regarding his ruptured Achilles tendon. His physical therapist has said he needs to strengthen his calf and regain the ability to push off with his toes. I'm assuming that tomorrow we will find out how much longer R will need to be attending PT.  That, in turn, will determine our actual "get on the road" date. 

Once we have an actual date, we will be able to do all the scheduling and address changing that remains. And we will be able to sign over our car to it's new owner.  We also need to have paperwork done for assigning to my brother, Power of Attorney, so that he can accept offers on our house.  And then there will be the last minute getting rid of the bits of furniture we've been hanging onto while we prepare: a few lamps, our bed and bedside table, two living room chairs,  a small table, the cabinet that holds the TV  and video equipment. Not a lot, really.  

I can see light at the end of the tunnel. I can almost see Pittsburgh in the rear view mirror, which brings up a whole bunch of mixed emotions.  But that's for another blog.