TRANSITION

I follow a site called “Begin with Yes”…today the following posting showed up.  “The transition to evening reminds us that life is about transitions too. When we understand that this is just part of the natural unfolding, we resist less and become less fearful. Everything will be OK”

How many times have I written about my own personal transition from wife to widow to single and the challenges it has presented, yet feeling lucky to understand and accept the idea that everything will be OK.  That does not make the pain go away.  I know I sometimes have to wear a mask of “everything is ok” just to get through the day, and so do many other widows I meet and talk with.  

When I talk about my reactions to leaving a wonderful event with family or friends and sometimes find myself breaking into tears heading home alone in the car…they nod and understand…for them too, they tell me.  There is always that moment that you leave the group, get into your car and as I have said before when you close that door that sound of the door slams you into a reality of your aloneness. 

I gave a talk a while back and was in conversation with someone who said, “I pretend to be okay because everyone expects me to be.”  She went on to say, “In pretending, I can often get through the day, but it is not real.”  

How that struck me.  We all wear masks of sorts.  Most of us present to others that which we think they want to see and too often it leaves us wanting inside and nowhere to share the voice we really want to be heard.  

Yet, I know it is up to me at this stage to find my own way, to create a new life.  I often feel like I have each foot in a different world.  One where I want to run and explore and start over…even sometimes thinking it would be wonderful to run away and begin life over.  The other foot stays planted in a need to be around the family.  But I am experiencing more that the family is so busy, and their need for me, is gone, and due to time, distance and busy lives getting together is harder.  And it is not unique to me, it is a common theme.  In the community in which I live, the last census taken by the Homeowners Association showed 52% of the people living here are single-home dwellers.  The quiet that permeates this place sometimes kills the soul!

I remember when I first moved here the first thing I missed was the sound of kids playing on the street.  Halloween doorbells ringing with “trick or treat” sounds.  Noise.  Now don’t get me wrong…quiet is good.  But too much quiet is deafening to the spirit.  I need people.  I need life.  I need to move and dance and play and sing.  So I am preparing for a new transition.  I have decided to sell my home and with my daughter-in-law and son’s invitation am moving into a mother-in-law suite they are building into their home.  Privacy when I want it, yet family when I need it.  

This will allow me to have the funds I need to travel.  This will put me in a place where life is still being lived robustly, yet when I need to step in and be in quiet…it will be there (we are soundproofing the place!)  For the first time in a long while I am looking forward with joy in my heart.  This feels good.  I am lucky.  At 69 I am healthy, mobile, still have my wits about me, and have a few years to get in as much as I can before my time comes to leave this place and by damn I am going to give it all I got and see where it goes.  

The next challenge? Thinning out the “stuff”.

MY CAR BUYING DANCE!

Why is buying a car such a game?  I have always hated car shopping.  Until I bought my convertible, I never saw a car as anything but a way to get from point “A” to point “B”.  My convertible was a way to find small bits of happiness as I traveled to and from my errands.  It was my little bits of vacation in lieu of no vacation while I was locked down taking care of Pat during his illness.  

But now I am ready for some major road trips.  My car was a 2008 model.  A decision must be made.  To drive my car until the wheels come off or take advantage of the trade-in value and get a new car.  

A couple of months back I looked into some cars I thought I would be interested in.  I’m thinking hybrid.  Reading car reports and searching customer satisfaction sites I settled in on a Prius 3.  Since I am a procrastinator, I thought about it and then quickly found things to do.  

Then it was time for service and inspection on my car.  I no sooner made the appointment when I got a call from the dealership.

“I see you are bringing your 2008 Solara in for service and inspection.  Since your car is a 2008 model we thought you might like to know what your car may be worth on a trade in”, the friendly voice said on the other end of the phone.  “We can take the time while your car is in the shop and give you the numbers,” she continued.

“Okay,” I said.  “I am curious about that anyway.”  

About 1/2 hour later, Tim, the salesman calls and says, “I see you might be interested in looking at a new car,” he says in a chipper voice.

“Yes, I am only interested in looking, but I would like to know what my car would be worth on a trade-in.”

The day came, the service on my car began, and I was quickly greeted by the friendly voice on the phone who escorted me to Tim the salesman.

So began the dance.  My dance card filled quickly with the salesman, then the manager, and then back to the salesman.  Both looking at me as they presented the numbers like they had found a winner.

“I’m going to take this information home with me and speak with my son before I decide,” I said, “then I’ll call and let you know what I think.”

I went home, called my son, who quickly pointed out that the trade-in they offered was low.  Then my daughter reminded me that I am a member of AAA and they have an auto buying service powered by TRUECAR.  She plugged in the numbers and the make of the car and the service provided three close dealerships with a guaranteed price.

The AAA service cut the price of the car by $4000 when the dealership’s initial offer only knocked off $1500 off the retail price.  

I phoned and left a message.  “This is Marlene.  Shame on me for not being prepared to negotiate a deal for a car, but since leaving you I remembered my AAA membership.  I have a certificate guaranteeing a price of $22,000.00.  I also checked on my trade-in value and expect that we will negotiate this up from your initial offer.  The good news for you is that I have decided I am a willing buyer if the deal can be made.  The bad news for you is that I love my convertible and if I cannot make a deal that I like, I am happy to drive off with my top down and a smile on my face.  Call me if you are willing to accept my offer.”

This afternoon I drove home in my new Prius 3 looking forward to those road trips with long distances between fill-ups and the rebate check from AAA for using their car sales service!

COMFORT ZONE TRYOUT NUMBER ONE

Okay, so yesterday I wrote about reaching outside my comfort zone and learning to fly solo with ease and comfort.  Can I say after tonight…I don’t know.  I mean I didn’t fly solo, but I went someplace definitely out of my comfort zone.  Here’s the story….

Joliene invited me to go with her and try someplace new.  She is after all my adventure girl!  She read about this place in Bucks County Taste, an online blog about dining out in the area.  A new up and coming place that use to be a biker bar, with plans of for expansion, a new chef and lots of enthusiasm for the future.  A local place.  In fact, they call it “Local”.  

Off we went.  A beautiful drive down Point Pleasant Pike toward the river.  Arriving, we found a beautiful old stone building with a sign out front near a door.  Walking up to the door, we found no handle.  Ummmm….how do we get in?  Walking to the side patio we spot another door.  Again, no handle and no entry.

Giggling, we started back toward the car when a women from across the street yells out that the entrance is around back.  I looked over toward her and asked, “How many times do you have to shout instructions to strangers?”

“More times than I care to say,” she shouts back.

Thanking her, we headed around to the door in the rear.  A lovely inset stone entrance, with a huge beautiful pot of flowers in full bloom welcoming us.  Opening the door, we walk into a well used bar, with pool table, dart board and about four tables and lots of seats at the bar.  A little dark and dingy looking but filled with character.  Or should I say characters.  The bartender/server was a very small, well-worn old man who was about the size of my right leg.  A squeaky voice that peppered his language so that he was constantly turning to us (the only two ladies in the bar) and saying sorry.  I got the feeling they weren’t use to having women in the place.

Standing there, trying to get our bearings as to what to do, a young man at the end of the bar says to us, that he will be able to judge us better when he hears what we plan on drinking.  Joliene, not shy or backing down chooses a beer.

“Where you ladies from?” he asks?

“New Hope.”

‘Oh this is not a New Hope place,” he says with a smile.

Oh know I say to myself, he thinks we are gay.  That thought didn’t even register with Joliene.

Another old man across the bar begins to share with us how wonderful the food is and how they use local food sources, and how much they make themselves, like the mozzarella balls are made right there…..

“And you know,” says the young man at the end of the bar, “you need to prick a hole in those to let the steam out because they are hot to bite into if you don’t!”

After listening to what sounds like a commentary from the food channel, I say to them, “You know the last time I walked into a place and asked about the food and heard that much positive response, I later found out they were all related to the owner.  You are not related to the owner are you?”

Laughing, he says, “No, I use to be a chef and I know good food.”  

“Nice to know.  Thank you.”

We glanced at the menu on the various walls.  While trying to decipher them, one man points out to us that having the menu on the walls is not really a good thing because if the place is full you can’t read the menu with everyone in front of it.

I chuckled.  It was true.  The one menu was right across the bar with a whole row of seats in front.  If they had been filled we would not have been able to read the board.

We eventually decided on what to eat, ordered the food, got our drinks and sat at the table.  Soon another gentleman walked in with his dog.  A friendly type.  Conversation flowed when he strolled over to the jukebox inviting us to pick out some music on his dime, asking us if we were in town for the gay pride week?

It was everything I could do to keep from laughing.  I don’t know if it was Joliene’s plaid shirt or my short hair, combined with the fact that we said we were from New Hope, but they all had the impression we were gay, so I began to reference the fact that Joliene was my daughter to set them straight.  

The dog owner says, “Here I thought you two could be sisters!”  

Now I didn’t know how to feel at this moment.  Sorry for Joliene because she was hanging with an old women  or happy because someone thought I looked young!  Once we made it clear that we were mother and daughter, the conversation turned to them wanting to take us home!  Now there would be a story!!!!

The food finally came and I must say it was great food.  Everything the men said it would be.  

As we left the place, Joliene proceeded to tell me the rest of the review from the Bucks County Taste.  She said the women who reviewed the place said she found that someone forgot to tell the men in the bar that it was not a biker bar anymore because when she arrived to check the place out, there was a knife fight out in the parking lot.  She decided not to share that part of the review until we were leaving the place.  

I will say, the only gang this group of men belongs to was the over-the-hill gang.  They were worn hard, but harmless, friendly and very chatty.  The next time we go there, Joliene won’t be allowed to wear her plaid shirt and I’ll put hair extensions in, wear a fancy dress with long earrings, tons of makeup….oh wait…then we really would look out of place!

So much for leaving my comfort zone!  Next?

PS:  They really do have some great plans for the place.  Keep your eye out for the news.  They plan on bringing in music, building an outside deck and a second-floor dining area.  They already have a head start on the food!

I WILL DANCE WHEREVER I AM

Dancing along the waters edge with the sandpipers, searching for treasures that the surf leaves behind, feeling the sun warm my bare feet each time I get caught by the tidal push of water, I smile knowing how lucky I am to be here—or there…

I realize how blessed I am to be able to find happiness no matter where I am, no matter where I stand, a gift I am glad to possess.  I began to think about all those things that I can find joy in today.  Let me count the ways.

First and foremost are my family.  They have provided me the extreme of all emotions at times, but being happy with them, by them far outweighs anything else I know.

My friends are next.  Since losing Pat, I often don’t feel I have that “best or intimate” friend, but I am surrounded by a diverse group of people who manage to bring me joy when we spend time together.  I am always grateful to those who allow me to be with them—it helps keep the blues away!

My writing comforts me.  As a child, keeping things to myself was so ingrained in my soul, that being open about who I am and what I am about was hard.  Writing became my voice.  It does not matter if anyone reads it or likes it, or gets what I am trying to say.  Throwing my thoughts out to the universe frees me in ways I cannot explain.  The gift for me has been the discovery that I am alright.  I like me.

Being outdoors—in the woods—by a lake—near the ocean—standing by a waterfall—walking a trail--watching the birds—planting a garden—accepting the gifts provided by mother nature is easy and pure joy!  At times, there is not enough time in the day to do all I want to do or see all that I want to see!

Painting is play!  To paint is to be childlike—an area where I was short changed by a childhood that was taken away from me early in life.  Not anymore.  I keep the wonder of learning and exploring forefront in my activities.  Nothing stops me from playing today! 

Birds.  How can I not love birds?  They sing for me, dance for me, and entertain me in ways nothing else can.  In my life, I have always planted things around me that serve two purposes…the birds and me!  First it has to offer food or shelter up to the birds, and second it has to provide me pleasure in its existence.  I provide for them and the birds provide for me.  We make a perfect pair!

And last, but not least, music.  Nothing can carry me higher than the story of a song.  Music lifts me from sadness, will make my heart soar and take me places I didn’t know I wanted to go.  I write and paint with music in the background because it opens my mind and heart like nothing else can.

Life is an adventure and I want to enjoy it all. I know as I walk along the edge of the ocean dancing with the sandpipers, searching for the treasures that the surf leaves behind that I will dance wherever I am.

WATER SOOTHS MY SOUL

Sea Isle City, New Jersey

Thanks to Eileen and her gift of sharing her shore house, I found myself walking barefoot along the winter beach of Sea Isle City, watching the sandpipers darting along the low tide searching for their morning meal and thinking to myself how lucky I am.

It was a spontaneous decision to head down to the shore and I love what being by water does for me.  Growing up in the Midwest, we lived for a time on a lake, in Ingleside, Illinois.  Living on Long Lake, was the happiest time in my childhood.  The mesmerizing effects of living by the water never got tiring for me, but I find the roar of the ocean is a different animal.

From the first moment Pat took me to Ocean City, I was in awe by the power and force of the waves.  My joy, early on, was to be chest high in the ocean riding the gentle waves up and down.  That is until one day while vacationing in Chincoteague, Virginia.  

We decided to spend as much time at the beach as we could before the projected storm rolled in.  Pat, sitting on the shore with the three younger ones playing in the sand, while Damian, my oldest son then age 10, and I rode the waves, were having that perfect family time together when suddenly Damian and I found ourselves in water deeper than we were tall and we could no longer land on our feet on the bottom when the waves went out.  

Not being able to swim stronger than a doggy paddle, we both began to panic when we realized our feet no longer touched bottom.  

“Mom,” Damian cried out, “I’m going to drown!”

Struggling myself to just stay afloat, I could say nothing, but only felt panic.  Pat noticed that we were in trouble but locked on shore with the three younger kids, was not in a position to do anything.  At the same time, the lifeguard noticed our predicament and began to run toward us, when suddenly, a huge wave picked Damian and I up and threw us to shore, face down.  Standing up, my swimsuit at my waist, chest bleeding from the scraping on the rocky bottom of the ocean floor, Damian and I were both glad to have our feet planted on the beach.  

We learned that day about undertow and carry a healthy respect for the power of the ocean.  

I still enjoy walking on the water’s edge, smelling the sea air, watching the sandpipers darting about for food, dipping my toes in and out of the moving shoreline all the while thinking how blessed I am to be experiencing another of Mother Nature’s beautiful gifts!

Thank you, Eileen for providing me another opportunity to experience another of my favorite things.  

POPULAR SENIOR PAST TIMES? FUNERALS OF COURSE

Spring is sprung

The grass is rizzzz

I’m heading out 

To where all the bodies is….

My way of saying it is funeral time again in the ok corral.  Yes, the 2nd most popular past time of seniors—the first being going to the doctor’s office—is attending funerals.  And I must say the last couple I have been to have turned out to be enjoyable in a macabre sort of way.  

Two funerals ago, it happened in a snow storm.  It wasn’t so much the funeral that was fun, but the people I went with.  Retired hospice nurses all, (well I can’t forget Jim, our lone man of the group) and neither snow, nor sleet, nor hail, or storm could keep these gals from their final destination.  Once the somber event of the viewing and mass was behind us, it was off to a bakery, then Tony Lukes for lunch.  Hardly any cars on the road due to the storm conditions but there we were!  Yes, we were heading home, and we did not make any changes in that direction, as they were just stops on the way.  But imagine the surprise of the owners of the bakery and the workers in the restaurant when they saw four old farts strolling in to their place of business….and just as old people do, said to the bakery owner, “Since we are your only customers are you going to give us a discount?”

And she did, so we cleared out a few items before she shut up shop and gave us free coffee to boot!  Due to her kindness and jovial nature, you know we will be back there again!

Once again I was traveling with the same group plus Jim…only this time it was one of us that lost someone.  In this case it was an ex.  Let me saying losing an ex is not the same as losing a husband.  I don’t know from personal experience, but watching those around me…well let me just say the murmurings  were funny to listen to.  What made this funeral noteworthy, was knowing the background to the family, the stories of how the man lived and especially what he left behind when he died—tie that into the fact that the priest was a boyhood friend of the ex-wife’s family—well, let us just say to hear the priest dance with his words about how this good man is going to heaven, but ever so gently remind us all that we all have sins on us that need to be forgiven.  

I found myself thinking, “be gentle Marlene, for one day you too will die, and when people are sitting mourning or rejoicing your loss, you better hope someone is praying for your sinful soul so that the door to our heavenly father will be opened for you.”

CHILDHOOD FRIENDSHIPS NEVER DIE

Tom, Pat and a friend from work 1966

Most all of us have walked through our life carrying the memory of an old friend within us.  That someone who lived through a portion of our life, leaving an impact and burning that special soft spot in our heart.  I have not had the experience, but I lived it through my late husband, Pat.  He had three friends through his childhood that he carried in his heart with great affection until the moment he died.

John, Tom, and Joe were the first three friends of Pat’s that I met.  I loved to see them together. They had a history, a connection…something, that in my life could only be imagined, never experienced.  I often told Pat how lucky he was, because he could not travel up or down the 309 corridor without bumping into someone who knew him from his childhood.  

John and Pat were close like brothers.  Their love and acceptance of each other was a beautiful thing to watch.  Of course it helped that John married Pat’s sister, but even so, they always carried each other close to the heart and being with John and Lucyann was always such a happy time.  Even distance did not put a wedge in their relationship.  

But Joe and Tom eventually drifted away physically, yet never in Pat’s memory, thoughts or feelings.  Right before he died he made me promise to try and find the two of them and give the message to them that they were never forgotten and how he carried them in his heart always as his best friends and with great affection. It was important to him that they all knew that he loved them.   I promised I would try.

I first found what happened to Joe.  Joe was the Best Man at our wedding.  We quickly bonded as a couple as he too was married.  Through the first four years of our marriage, we spent most all our social time hanging out with Joe and his wife.  Sometime after my first pregnancy, Joe and his wife separated and divorced and our friendship drifted apart.  Life, family and work filled the time available for both Joe and Pat.  Over the years we did get in contact with him once, but Joe was embarrassed about how his wife left him (he was a man of great pride) and we did not stay in contact.  But that did not mean he was forgotten by Pat.  As I went on a hunt for him I decided to search the obituaries and I was saddened to discover he died in 2004.  I called John to share the news of my discovery and you could hear the breath leave him for a moment as he processed the news.

I first met Tom thru Pat at the Navy Hospital at the Great Lakes Navy Base where I worked.  Tom and Pat went into the Navy during the Viet Nam days on the buddy system.  Pat never cared what he did as long as he could do it with Tom.  In boot camp where they filled in their dream sheet of what they wanted to do in the Navy, Pat chose to put down what Tom wanted to do…dental tech.  In the end, Pat was the one who was selected to go to A school for Dental Tech, while Tom ended up in Corp school to become a Medic and eventually off to Viet Nam.  Pat never made it to his school because on the obstacle course he broke his foot which left him unfit for duty and back home to await discharge.  Tom’s schooling was at Great Lakes which allowed for me to get to know Tom through Pat while Pat was in the hospital awaiting orders to return home.  Tom went off to Viet Nam, returned home, attended college and went off to live his life.  Our first born son carries Thomas as part of his name in honor of the love Pat held for Tom.  

I was recently lucky to have come in contact with a cousin of Tom’s who shared contact information for him allowing me to fulfill that last wish for Pat.  When I called John to share the good news of finding Tom, he too was overjoyed, as he had spent part of last year searching for Tom without success.  

We promised to meet up soon and catch up on the life lived between visits…and when we do, I know Pat will be there too with a big smile on his face.

LORD, HELP ME PRESERVE MY DIGNITY!!!!

Me as I start my new chapter in life!

I am in a new chapter of my life.  And the goal?  To keep my dignity about me!  The chapter you ask?  Surviving working with a trainer and physical therapist.  Beautiful people in body and spirit, both of them.  I especially enjoy the young man, Dean, who is my trainer.  A brilliant young man who takes his work very seriously.  But he puts my body in positions that I haven’t tried since I was six months old.

Age I could last lift my legs
over my head.

I mean, when is the last time you put your legs over your head?  You know the position.  The getting-ready-to-change-a-diaper position!   Okay…maybe six months is pushing it, but not more than two years old for sure!  The worst part about this position is the fear I will fart in his face as he pushes my leg toward the back of my head!!!!

I look around the room and there is a younger women who, laying on her back, brings her legs up over her head and reaches back toward the wall with her toes.  I think to myself, “My God what I am doing here?”

The work I do with Dean is not cardio…but it sure makes me sweat.  By the time I walk away from him I am sweating as if I was in a sauna and my face is as red as an apple.  From the outside it looks simple.  At least he makes it look simple.  

“Just stand with your back to the wall, open your arms to your side and your elbows at 90 degrees, hands up in the air….touching the wall with the back of your hands.”  He demonstrates and I think, ah an easy one.  Sure.  I stand with my back against the wall, lift my arms as if I am surrendering to the gunman, push my arms back to touch the wall…pushing…pushing…I can’t touch the damn wall!!!!  

“Don’t worry,” he says.  “You’ll get there, just don’t give up.”

I want you to know that standing in this surrender position and lifting my arms straight up and then back down is very hard for this 68 year old body!  

Balance is my weak spot.  I mean it is so bad that if a policeman pulled me over for a DUI, I would just have to surrender because I could not pass his “stand on one foot and lift the other” test.  I would fall over on my face and he would haul me in!

I'll always love to cook!

And can I ask, why the mirrors?  In this place there are mirrors everywhere.  I don’t even like to look at myself naked in the privacy of my own home and yet here I am in a room full of young sweaty bodies who seem to be able to tie their legs into pretzel holds, unable to move without catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  Do you know how hard it is to try and do these exercises while seeing my “old women’s body” flopping around on the floor?  Most of the time I just close my eyes…and that does not help either!!!

As hard as this is…and it is hard…I will not give up on working to get my strength back into my muscles.  There is so much I want to do and places I want to see, and all require a good deal of walking and hiking and damn it…I am going to do these things!!!  Until then, Lord, please help me preserve my dignity!

LIFE LIES DEAD AT MY DOOR

I am coming up on year three of widowhood.  What a journey this has been!  Our youth allows death to appear remote to us unless it touches us close to home.  Preparing for this time I believe is impossible, and I believe surviving this time period is a test of one’s core.  We are all born into a family, never alone until for many, we reach this time of life only to find all those that started out with us are, one by one, leaving this earth, allowing for us to stand more and more alone.

Life today is a yo-yo for me.  I enjoy being with family and friends—really enjoy it. It is easy today for me to laugh and have a good time.  Then the moment comes when it is time to go home.  Oh how I miss those moments of conversation that carries the good times on the journey home…”remember so-and-so and how funny?” or “Wasn’t it a great night, boy it was so good to…”

In life as a single, the moment lies dead as soon as you walk through a door.  You go home in silence.  Once inside your own place, there is just you.  You close the door and all you hear are your own footsteps making your way through the house.  

When you have that someone to share those moments with, it extends the good feelings.  You get to travel in the air of good times.  There is a contentment that fills you.  

Finding ways to embrace this stage of my life is my biggest challenge today and the one hardest for me to overcome.  I must learn to live alone and be okay with it. I cannot spend the rest of my life running from the silence. I must find ways to explore it’s existence for it is with me everyday now.  I must seize this moment to find my creative soul.  I must make it a positive in my life.  I have to in order to survive….no not survive, but live.  Complete, with joy in my heart and wings on my feet.  That is my goal.

But not today…for today, life lies dead at my door.  

TAKE CARE CARETAKERS

As I traveled these past couple of weeks I once again met some incredible people whose positive attitude and outlook on life can only impress once you hear what life has dealt them.  Each of us has a story to tell and in them all, the life’s lesson is that it is not what happens in life, but what you do with life once the hardship has passed.  

Possessing a positive spirit does not come without some pain in the background.  I easily see that those who carry a happy spirit make a personal choice to do so.  Being around people who choose this is nothing, if not a motivation for each of us to figure out the secret of living with a happy spirit.

One of the common threads of discussion this past week was caretaking our loved ones through illness and eventually their death.  Until someone walks this walk with a loved one, it is hard to think about what it is like.  Most will respond with, “Oh, I don’t think I can handle that.”  The truth is, that we often find ourselves in the middle of what we think we can handle before we realize it.  

Listening to the sharing that went on this past couple of weeks I am reminded of the lessons I learned in my own journey of taking care of my family through their end days on this earth.  The last 13 years was the hardest for me.  First, my Dad was with me the last 3 1/2 years of his life when my husband became ill a year before my Dad died.  

I too thought I could not handle what eventually I became good at.  The hardest part was caring for my Dad’s personal hygiene.  Quickly though, it became “doing what needs to be done” without thought of how I felt or how he felt.  The blessing for him was that by the time it reached that point his mental  faculties were lost and he did not realize who was taking care of him.  A blessing for both of us.

Caring for Pat for the years he was ill was the toughest yet most tender part of our life together.    Not because of how the fun things in life took a back seat to the caretaking, but because there is so many other issues wrapped up in the days spent by the side of a loved one who has entered the dying process.  There is the preparation of the loss.  Each day I found myself trying to give my best, because I knew how much I would miss him when he was gone.  I tried to soak in every good moment I could, yet there were the days when fatigue and depression would set upon me and I was unable to give him my best.  That would often be followed by guilt, which he would never let me own because he recognized how hard this was.  That would only be followed by more guilt because his kindness and love toward me was so complete and unconditional.  

As the years went on, and I became more and more teathered to the house, standing at the door watching the world go on while feeling trapped became the most challenging moment for me.  Pat deserved the best of me during this time, because i always knew that if it were me in that bed he would of given the best of himself.  But how to do that on a day in and day out basis?

People would offer up their help, but we believed in the commitment of “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health”.  This was our journey and we did not want to impose on anyone, especially our children until our need for them was required. As caretakers when we think of help, we don’t think of ourselves as much as we should.  When someone offers up their services to us, we immediately think of what can be done for the person who is ill.  The truth is, we should be asking what do I need so I can continue to do my best.  That is when I concluded that I needed to find every small way I could to refresh my soul.  

I bought a convertible so that when heading out on errands, I could put my top down and enjoy the ride on a back road to the grocery store, listening to music or just the sounds of the wind blowing in and the birds singing their songs.

I decided to bring in someone to clean the house at least once a month.  Seems silly on many levels to do this,  as my place is small and hearing my mother’s voice in my ear, “anyone can clean this in a minute.”  But the truth is when we are bogged down in the chores of everyday, it can get hard and be downright depressing.  Having someone come in and clean the corners lifted my spirit.

I needed a challenge not connected with death and dying. I decided to try something totally out of my comfort zone.  I took up oil painting.  Now I never have considered myself an artist, but I needed something so alien to me, that it challenged me and kept me engaged.  I bought videos, books, watched how to you tube videos and began to play.  I loved it (and still do) even though I still don’t consider myself an artist I just love to play.

These are just a couple of things I did to keep me engaged, challenged, and inspired by the world.  Instead of standing by a window watching the world live, go and do, I brought what I could into the house.  I was inspired and it brought a level of comfort to me as I was tethered to the house doing my best for Pat.  

By working to stay positive, even in the face of his death, we had happy times…laughing moments…and tender sharing moments.  All possible because I was in a better frame of mind…not a bitter one.

So caretakers….take care.  When you stand before someone who says to you, “if you need anything call me”, put yourself on that list of needs.  If you take care of yourself then you will have all you need to care for the ones you love.

Are you listening Dee?

LAUGHING IS THE BEST MEDICINE

As my Virginia and North Carolina trip winds down, and we start thinking about heading back home, I sit here laughing just remembering all the reasons we laughed these last few days.

As we traveled to explore retirement possibilities for Dee, we experienced things you don’t want to hear on a road trip, like, when we got out of the car we heard someone say in another part of the parking lot, “Ya know…some people just need killin!”  

That is one way to make a person perk up!

Out of my mouth, as we were shuffling things around the car in the parking lot, I shouted out “So how many drugs did you bring?” Laughing Lucyann, John and Dee began to watch over their shoulder to see if anyone heard us!

I mix up the words vibrator and massager.  To me they both vibrate so I don’t understand all the fuss…So while sitting in the dining area of the hotel in Asheville, rubbing a sore area between my shoulders, I say to my sister-in-law, “Sure wish I had a vibrator!”  A man at another table started for a long time at me as I finished my breakfast.  And I thought he was flirting!  

Going to the farmer’s market is John and Lucyann’s past time.  I know why.  Not only can you get a bounty of wonderful food, but there is entertainment too.  It makes for a great way to start the day.  But I also discovered another reason.  The friendliness of the people in the south is a great experience.  Here is why I say that:  I am wearing what I fondly refer to as “my people attracter” pendant that my friend Flo made.  It is a beautiful piece of agate created into a necklace.  No matter how many times I wear it, someone comes out of the crowd and let’s me know how beautiful it is.  A nice way to start a conversation with a stranger.

So here I am at the bread maker’s stand when the young lady starts her flattering comments about my pendant.  Then her male partner starts in.  As we were chatting I catch out of the corner of my eye a man standing there staring at me, quietly mouthing the word beautiful…beautiful…over and over again.  Getting all flush I thank them all and let them know I may just never leave this place because they have made me feel so good!  And they did.  Once again I thank Flo for her creative conversation piece!

Another moment that put a smile on my face happened last night.  John and Lucyann went out to the back yard for their evening ritual, while I finished up some emails in their family room.  I suddenly heard two young men chatting outside and realized they were on the property.  Soon they came walking across the front of the two windows in the room.  I called out, “Can I help you?”  

The one young man took off running across the street.  I went to the door, opened it and asked what they wanted. 

 “I can’t find my cat,” he said.  

“What does your cat look like?”

“It has spots,” he replied all the while fidgeting. (I’m thinking, spots?  I never knew a cat to have spots.)

“So why did your friend run?” I asked.

“I don’t know, maybe he is scared.”

“Why would your friend be scared of looking for a cat?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

“So what is your name?”

“Billie Bob,” he answered.

“What is your last name?” I asked.

“Billie Jones.”

“Can I bet on that?” I asked.

“No ma’am,” he said as he took off down the road.

I don’t know what they were up to, but I loved his honesty!

Another lesson learned this week is that you can’t be too literal with some people.  A young mother, with her four year old son showed up at her sister’s house only to discover that her son forgot to put underwear on.  So she told him to grab a pair of his cousin’s underwear as they both were the same age and near the same size.  Dutifully he did, not seeming to be bothered that his cousin was a girl.  As the visit was coming to an end, she called him back into the house.  He came running, with his cousin beside him.  

“Take Annie’s underwear off.  We are leaving now,” she said.

“No, I don’t want to.”

“I said, take Annie’s underwear off now!  We are leaving.”

Whining now, he says, “but I don’t want to.”

“Look,” the mother begins to shout, “take off Annie’s underwear right now or I’ll spank your butt.”

With that he runs over to his cousin Annie, knocks her down and pulls off her underwear!

Yes, as this week comes to an end and I find myself back home again, I will miss the side splitting laughter that was experienced over and over during this trip.  But boy do I have a million reasons to smile!!!

THIS WOMEN’S JOURNEY

AARP magazine  has printed  a few articles recently, about how important sex is in our lives.  And it is.  But when faced with the world of being single how does one handle it?  With the fog of widowhood lifted, I find myself waking up to a world, with new rules.  I struggle to know how to handle this new world at times.  In this place anything seems to go, and it appears to most, to be okay.

When I was young, there were rules and there were consequences to breaking those rules.  Men could often go through life and break them with few if any consequences, but women, got tagged with harsh names like, tramp, whore, or slut.  Even if she were a victim she often got told she asked for it by the way she dressed, or behaved, but a man was not made to accept the responsibility for his behavior in the same circumstances and definitely not the same level of responsibility.  He often was thought of as the conquering hero and words like conquest were often associated with his behavior.  

My daughter gave me a book titled “Getting Naked Again.”  In it, the author prepared the new single, from widow to divorcee, to face the new dating scene.  I thought she had to be kidding on some level.  Things could not of changed that much.  After all we are all still human, and there are physical consequences to playing a loose game, even if today women don’t have to hide the way they once did.  

So, here I am, desiring on some level to have those moments of intimacy with that special someone.  But here is where the dividing line occurs.  I cannot be a friend with benefits as they say.  I know some people can, but I am not one of them.  It is a vulnerability issue.  I have to have trust and a believe there is no intent to harm.  I had that for 45 years with Pat, who put me first in everything.  But I too, put him first in everything in my life.  There were times I didn’t feel like I deserved such unconditional love, but there was not one day while he was alive that I did not feel loved by him.

So someone please tell me, how we can go out, be that intimate and walk away as if we just shared a cup of coffee? I know some will be uneasy about this writing.  But this too is life and living the new life as a single person is something that many of us will face at one point or another.  I just wish I had the answers.

LONE CROW

I’m traveling with my sister-in-law's college friend, through Virginia and into Winston Salem.  She called and asked if I would drive her on her journey to find that happy place to live in retirement.  The trip has been a delight and we are all enjoying talking about the fun days spent as young adults.  

Our first stop was in the Bedford, Virginia area.  I met a women of Mohawk Indian descent.  She lives up in the “hills” of Virginia, surrounded by woods, animals, and the memories of a husband recently lost.  The isolation was overwhelming to me, but at the same time there was a peace on that hill.  She has a donkey, named Kia, over a dozen peacocks, an emu, ducks, chickens, feral cats, two wonderful dogs and over 40 cockatiels.  

She lives in harmony with her surroundings, reusing everything she can.  I found her home a refuge of peace and harmony.  Indian traditions abound throughout the house.  She and her husband hosted sweat lodges during the summers, and she shared some amazing stories about the healing and joy that came from them.  

Her husband gave birth to flutes.  Beautiful, harmonic sounding flutes.  They were not only wonderful to listen to, but the artist look of each was a joy to behold.  A gift to the eye as well as the ear.  Her life with him, was filled with strangers that they turned into friends.  People from all over the world came to their home on the hill to share time with the positive spirit of this extraordinary woman, and the man called Lone Crow.  

Our host shared a lot about her life on the hill and her husband.  You could feel his presence all around. Symbols of the Lone Crow were everywhere.

As Dee and I left the home of this incredible woman, reaching the end of her property, a black crow sitting on a tree to the left in front of us suddenly swept down in front of us--so close as to startle us, only to turn back and return to the tree.

Both Dee and I looked at each other and said "Leonard came to say good-bye to us."  Without a doubt we both knew it to be so.

We continued our journey with smiles on our faces….

MAKING FRIENDS OF STRANGERS IS THE BEST ADVENTURE

Suntaro Torigoe

I always talk about life as an adventure.  For me, it does not always mean where I go or what I do, but often it means by whom I open the door to.  

I am lucky, in that I love people.  All people.  Not just ones that think like me, or look like me, or live in my neighborhood.  I will talk to anyone.  This act alone has provided much adventure in my life.  Along the way, I have not only met some incredible people, but all of them have touched my life and often the life of my family in ways that cannot be measured.

This is a story about one such adventure.  In 1982, a young Japanese reporter was doing an internship at the Quakertown Free Press at the invitation of Charles Meredith, owner and editor.  His name was Shantaro Torigoe—he invited us all to call him Tori.  Tori was to write one column a week— an observation of us in America through the eyes of this Japanese reporter.  

With interest I began to follow his writings when one day I decided to call the paper and invite him to our home for a dinner and conversation.  That was the opening to a year of happenings that today our family still talks about.

Tori was an unusual man.  He was married, with two daughters, all still living back in Tokyo.  I use to kid that Tori would accept an invitation to a dog house for the experience.  He is a curious man, who even at this age (75) is still writing about what he is learning in this world.  He took to our family early on.  Damian, my oldest was studying piano and it reminded him of his own daughter, whom he missed very much.  It did not take long for our friendship to grow and become a close part of our family.

Before long we learned that he would have people with itineraries that would take them from Tokyo to London, to Paris, to New York, drive down and visit with Tori, then return.  He would entertain them at the Duncan Donuts in Quakertown.  

“What?!?!” I would ask…”why can’t you take them back to your place.”  

“Because the family I rent the room from won’t allow it,” he would say.

“Oh Tori, if you want to have a relaxed visit with your friends just bring them here…anytime,” I said. 

And the door opened wider to adventures we never dreamed of.  It turns out that Tori was the Walter Cronkite of Japan but we did not realize that in the beginning.  We were just Pat and Marlene with four loud kids inviting a stranger into our home.  

Tori and Tomoko at set for their TV Show

Tori is a writer, TV personality and editor of many publications in Japan.  But Tori was not your typical Japanese man.  He has a spirit of adventure in him and a curiosity that infected those of us that had the privilege to know him.  

Our first clue that something was different is when he asked if a TV crew from Japan could come and follow us, “a typical American family” around for the day.  They filmed us at the kids soccer game, driving Damian to piano and dance, and me and Pat just being parents.  

In the course of the year we spent with Tori, we met a movie actress, an author, and another film crew.  We were interviewed for two magazine stories (have the magazines, written in Japanese to prove it) and Tori wrote a book about his experiences in the year he spent in Quakertown.  For a couple of years after Tori’s book was published, we would get the occasional Japanese visitor trying to follow in the steps of Tori.  They never came without gifts.  It was always a pleasant surprise.

One of the best and most surprising gifts we received was from the movie actress that came to stay a couple of days with Tori.  We had taken them up to Jim Thorpe for a picnic and some down time.  As a thank you, she presented us with two 25 pound boxes of Godiva Chocolate and numerous cans of Dutch Cookies.  

Along with Tori’s friends, we hosted his wife and daughters, and his parents.  His daughters returned for a visit a year later and that provided another wonderful memory for my daughter, Joliene.  A friend of Tori’s had invited his daughters and Joliene to view CATS in NYC.  A limo picked them up and to say the least they were treated like notables for the whole day.  Joliene talked of the day for years to come!

Two highlights of the year with Tori come to mind that I have to share.  The first, was a hard one.  There is a group in Japan that buy up every inch of film on the dropping of the atomic bombs.  They show them all around the world to have people see the devastation that comes with the bomb in hopes that we abandon the idea of using one ever again.  They sent a film crew to the area to film a round table of people, from those military veterans who fought in the war, to the man who put the bomb on the plane, to another man who rode in the plane that dropped the bomb, to everyday people like myself.  They wanted to film an honest reaction from us after viewing the film for a documentary they were producing.  All they asked was that we not look away.

It turns out that the request was the hardest thing to keep.  The film was extremely difficult to view and I found tears coming down my face.  The conversation after the film was lively and honest.  When I returned home from the event, I found myself sitting on the couch and just bawling.  It was the only way I could release the experience of the film.  I will never forget the event.

2001 at my home in Perkasie.  Hosting party
for Tori and the staff that once worked as reporters
for the Quakertown Free Press.

The sweetest and most precious outcome of the year of Tori came about after Tori left us.  One of the people we had met in the course of the year had come with a gift of origami paper and sat with our children and taught them how to fold origami animals, especially the peace bird.  During the school year, our second child, Justin had a moment to shine as a result of this visit.  Justin, like all second children constantly search for their own identity.  In fourth grade there was a gifted young lady in his class, who stood and announced that she was going to present a program the next day on Japan and the art of origami.  She had indicated during her announcement that origami was so difficult to learn, that none of them could expect to learn it during her presentation.

Justin came home from school and asked me where the origami papers were.  He immediately grabbed them and put them in his school bag.  The next day I got a call from the teacher.  She said it was a beautiful sight to her to see how one so calmly and without making a sound proved a young women wrong.  While she stood in front of the class giving her demonstration on the very difficult form of origami, Justin sat quietly in the back of the class and made piece after piece of all the forms they had been taught to do a few months before.  

I loved the thought that opening the door to a stranger could in the end, provide a chance for my child to shine with confidence.  Nothing can be sweeter than that.  And for that reason, I will continue in life, to open the door to strangers and make them friends.

CONTINUING LIFE WITH VIGOR AND THE JOY OF PURPOSE!

Why is it, that the older we are, the faster time goes?  Even slowing down and enjoying the simple moments of living, seem to go by fast.  I get up and before I know it the day is gone and I have to pause and consider what I have done in the day.

The hardest part of getting older is dealing with the loss of those around us.  For us, who find ourselves the oldest in our generation left standing, it is odd to see that no one who started this journey with us, is there by our side when it is our time to go.  We remember our youth when for many life seemed simple and free.  For people like me, it is my young adult life, when the freedom of choice lay at my feet and the world seemed mine to grasp.

I am working on a project that is presenting me with a look back on my life.  It seems a dream at times, and yet I can still smell the river water as I watched Pat fish, or the smell of my newborn baby’s head.  These moments fill me with unbelievable emotions and remind me of a life once lived.  

But today is life too.  What does it hold for a body that slowly moves on, and the mind is still full of youth and vigor?  What does it take to live the twilight years of our life with as much vigor and purpose as it did when we were 20, 30 or 40?  

I know one thing, staying in and isolating oneself is surely not the answer.  Getting out, doing for others, finding purpose and giving ones self away to others in need seems to me the only way to move along in this part of life.

As I walk through the halls of a nursing home, and see the far away look in the eyes of our aged, I wonder what they were like when their bodies had not failed them.  I find myself wondering what kind of a young person they were.    What were their dreams?  Who did they love?  What was their fears?  What brought them the greatest happiness?

When do we cross that line of not living fully, not giving of ourself completely, or searching for that purpose in life?  Is it  because our body won’t allow it?  Or, I wonder if it is the depression of loss that freezes us in time, shutting us down, and closing the door to living that life with purpose and joy that we were once capable of.  

My son and daughter-in-law know a ninety plus year old man who still gives to the youth in their church.  Not necessarily money (although he may very well do that also)…but his time and his energy.  I have thought a lot about him recently as I search for my own purpose in today.  I think, in him and others like him who continue to engage in the people around them, are the secrets to living fully and with joy in our hearts.  

The traveling that I have done this summer, along with observing those around me who are older and still engaged in the world have taught me much about what i want to do with my life as it continues.  I am content in the day, and at peace where I stand.  My children are all very self sufficient and their need of me is minimal.  So it is time for me to reach out and find that one place where I can be of service to others.  I want to continue to live life with vigor and the joy of purpose.  

TOURING IS NOT FOR SISSIES--PART TWO

Our first stop of the four day tour.

I learned a long time ago when traveling, that most of the time when choosing public transportation you are never in control of anything.  The only way to get through the processes is to take a deep breath, be patient, and learn to enjoy people watching while standing in line, as it can be a great form of entertainment.

The trip started out great.  My lady friends and I were picked up by a limo and taken right to the airport.  Boarding the plane was timely and was seen as a great omen for the start of this wonderful adventure.  The plane started to taxi out on time and head out to the runway for takeoff.  We began to notice some animated conversation taking place between the airline stewards and a young women seated in front of us.  We could not make out what was going on but as the plane stood in the line readying for takeoff, the Captain got on the PA system and announced that we were returning to the gate to enable a passenger to leave the plane.  He apologized and said it would take a while until they located her luggage but we would soon leave the gate again for takeoff.  We sat.  And sat.  And waited.  

Soon the Captain came on again with another apology that we now have a problem with the air system and we were now waiting for a maintenance person to board the plane to fix the problem.  As the cabin heated up, people began to rumble and it became obvious that some on the plane were going to miss their connections.

An hour later we were able to take off.  Connections were definitely going to be missed but a promise to do all they could to help these passengers was made and the rest of us just hoped we too would not miss ours.  All this because someone got radical about being on the plane. Seems to me that this could of been thought out a bit more before she boarded the plane.

Joining a tour, set up by a sadist must also come with the recognition that you are not in control.  (Before I proceed any further, I must say, if I had a choice in the schedule, I would of done the bus tour before the cruise as I would have had more energy..I think) 

Just one view from our tour bus window.

The tour promotor prints out these nice brochures to inform you that your trip will include the opportunity to visit, see, and experience the wonders of the places they plan to take you.  Opportunity is the key word here.  To take advantage of the opportunity one must be in good shape, be able to walk fast in order to get to the places mentioned, and be able to experience the moments in fast forward motion.  Strolling is out of the question…no time.  Minutes count!  After awhile I guessed the purpose to all of this was to get our blood flowing so as not to get blood clots from sitting long spells on the bus.  By the time we got back to the bus, our hearts were pumping and beads of sweat were pouring down our faces.  

A day on the bus tour would start with a 6:00 a.m. wakeup call…hopefully.  Some complained they did not get the call.  You had just enough time to dress, put your large luggage outside your door, hopefully get breakfast (some hotel restaurants made this a challenge by their slow service) and be on the bus by 7:45 to 8:00 a.m.  

The days plans were drive two hours, stop, visit the site, drive again for 2 hours, stop, visit a site…until we reached the town we would be staying, at which point we would be given a driving tour of the town (in case we wanted to explore) and finally around 6:00 p.m. we would arrive at the hotel.  At this point exhaustion was setting in, so washing up and finding a place to eat became priority.  Touring the town did not because most of the time that meant hiring a cab to take you there and in the end that only added expense to the meal you were going to eat.  Shopping was the only other thing available and I am no shopper.  I hate shopping at home, I sure as heck am not going to spend big money for a trip to just shop somewhere else.  I want to feel the area by exploring the streets and get a glimpse of how the locals live.

After dinner, we found ourselves heading back to our rooms to shower, set up our clothes for the next day, and crash into a deep sleep until the next 6:00 a.m. wakeup call…starting the day all over again. By the fourth day of bus touring all 45 of us were getting a bit slap happy in our attitudes.  Couples were beginning to nip at each other, impatience was showing in attitudes of some, and since the crowd was mostly from Philadelphia and New Jersey, their Philly and New Jersey attitudes came through loud and strong!

My roommate, Joan and I just got silly.  (I must point out here that for me Joan was a perfect roommate.  She never complained, and when things got a bit crazy she laughed right along with me…perfect!) We were so exhausted by the fourth day, that when we were given our wake up call at 4:00 a.m. we worried that we may not get the call like some others had experienced.  So Joan tried to set the clock, and I set my iPhone alarm.  We repacked our bags to ready for home and the customs crossing, ate, showered and stretched out in bed early.  Both of us falling asleep, and managing to turn off the TV and lights.

Still in the dark, I awoke to laughter in the hallway, and noise outside our first floor window.  Thinking that we may have missed our wake up call and that we may be late, I jumped up to check the time.  Joan woke up at this time also.  “What time is it,” she asked.

“The room clock says 1:30 a.m.,” I respond.  

“Oh don’t pay attention to that,” she says.  “I tried to set the alarm and screwed the whole thing up.”  

Panicking at this point I checked  my phone.  It indicated it was 10:30 p.m.  “Oh no” I said, “something is wrong.” 

We turned on the TV and could not figure out from it what time it was so we called Room Service.  

“Excuse me,” I said, “but could you please tell me the time?”

“10:30 p.m.” she said.

Joan and I started laughing at ourselves and although we had a hard time settling back down we both were glad that we still had some sleeping time ahead of us.  

I remembered something my husband’s Uncle Bob would say to us long ago. “If you have never been somewhere, a good way to see it the first time is by a tour, then if you see something you really like, come back next time on your own.”  Yes, it takes stamina to take a bus tour in this way, but we did see some magnificent sites.  And yes, I would go back in a flash…on my own to really explore the area.

More tomorrow…..

TOURING IS NOT FOR SISSIES—PART ONE

Glacier as seen from the ship.

I like thinking of life as an adventure.  Discovering every day something new about the world around me as well as about myself.  Learning how to live as a single person and finding joy in it all, I will admit at times is a challenge.  The loneliness can be a killer.  But getting out on the road, meeting new people, seeing new places, and experiencing things outside of my comfort zone I have found to be very satisfying if not challenging.  But through it all I see life and living all around and know that I just have to keep getting out there and stay involved. This I realized as I took my first ever “tour”—part cruise, part bus.  Now I have cruised before and found a great pleasure in it,, but now having done 3 of them, choosing another one will depend on where in the world it will take me.  This one took me to Alaska.  

The Mendenhall Glacier

If you want to talk about a rugged state and rugged people this is a place to put on your list.  First I found it beautiful in many ways, but extreme also.  The rawness of it’s natural resources were a wonder to look at and experience.  We were lucky to have experienced a very passive inside passage of Alaska.  Lots of fog, but wait fifteen minutes and the weather would clear.  An ever changing landscape presented itself as we cruised down the waterway.  

Heading further up north from Vancouver, found us experiencing a drop in temperature with each passing day.  As we approached the glaciers it was bitter at times, but experiencing the glaciers and floating ice, took my mind off my numb lips and cold hands.  I was trying to imagine how the natives of Alaska survived the harshness this part of the world handed out.

Up close and personal

The cruise ship stopped in three ports during our 7 days.  Ketchikan, Skagway, and the capitol of Alaska, Juneau.  I discovered that the cruise lines work very hard to get you to shop at their shops often making you believe you are doing the local economy good.  But in Alaska there was an opportunity to find the local shops and in the end make out better doing business with the “real locals” not the cruise-line owned stores that filled the streets.  I made it a point to talk with a couple of locals and got directions to the locally owned businesses rather than to further pad the pockets of the cruise lines.  In doing this I saved money.  I was asked by a friend to pick up an Ulu knife, found everywhere in Alaska.  I found them in a locally owned business for $6.99 each.  But the shops owned by the cruise line was 13.99 and 21.99.  Same box, same packaging.   

Ketchikan as seen from the ship.

The towns were small, somewhat ragged (except for right where the port was) and it was easy to see that life was not full of many opportunities living there.  Juneau, the capital of the state of Alaska was not very pretty.  The tour guide who drove us through town described the capital building as the uglies capital he had ever seen.  He was right.  It was not very pretty or grand at all.  

One of the locals told me that the towns we were visiting were towns we had to drive to, not thru.  One way in and one way out.  

Totem poll done by a native carver.

I enjoyed seeing this part of Alaska but know from what I have read, that there are other exciting and adventurous places to visit.  Something to consider as I make my new travel choices.

Strolling the town with the clouds hovering close.

Tomorrow I will share the adventures of traveling with a tour group and the characters I met along the

way. 

Driving back from our road tour.