Tag Archives: retirement

local news

Puppy Tales, Part 39

CHOWCHILLA, Calif. — I want to declare Toby the Puppy to be the all-time champeen of travel.

He’s the ultimate road warrior. It matters not where we go, or how we long we sit in our motor vehicle, Toby the Puppy is good to go. He stays ready. I believe he was born ready to go.

I’ve heard of dogs that travel with extreme difficulty. They stress out. They suffer motion sickness in the car. Their phobias restrict their “parents” from travel.

Toby the Puppy is not like that. Not even close. In fact, if he were king of the world — and not just of our world, which he is — he would declare every day to be Travel with Mommy and Daddy Day.

We have ventured to California, where Toby’s never before been. He knows no strange surroundings. He doesn’t always react with total serenity to strange humans; no, he doesn’t bite, although he might growl just a bit, perhaps even bark. We tell him “no!” and he’s just fine.

As for his traveling endurance, he immediately settled into a pattern while riding in our vehicles after he joined our family. Our pickup has a large console between the two front seats. We put his cushy bed on the console, he jumps into it, circles twice and plops down.

It’s lights out almost immediately!

I figure he knows enough to save his energy for when we get out of the truck and start exploring.

Other dog parents know of what I am writing. They likely have similar experiences with their own puppies. My wife and I are still fairly knew at this dog parenthood thing; we’ve been longtime cat parents. Indeed, cats have presented us with their own unique and equally loving charm.

Three years into being dog parents, Toby the Puppy is still making us laugh every single day. Even while we’re all on the road.

local news, national news

Ride on, convoy

NEEDLES, Calif. — As the saying goes about some places on Earth, this place isn’t the end of the world but if you get up on tippy toes, you can see it from here.

But it’s not without its charms. Tall mountains loom in the distance; palm trees dot the landscape. The weather’s pretty nice, too — except during the heat of the summer.

But my wife and I encountered a most interesting group of fellow travelers. They belong to a club that restores military vehicles. We noticed about a dozen of them at an RV park where we parked overnight.

One of them was a Royal Australian Air Force Mercury truck. (See picture with this post.) The gentleman who owns the truck, an Aussie from Queensland who now lives in Abilene, Texas, said the Merc is a 1951 model that was assigned to the Australian occupation force in Japan from 1946 to 1953.

Another fellow traveler, a woman from Truckee, Calif., said the group was traveling along Route 66 from Chicago to Los Angeles. Needles is near the end of their journey. “So, you must have gone through Amarillo,” I said to her. “Oh, yes. Lovely place,” she answered.

Most of the vehicles were half-ton or three-quarter ton trucks.

My thought was twofold: How cool to save these military vehicles and how what a marvelous journey to embark with friends and acquaintances across the country.

Our own journey continues as well. We’ve been more or less winging it as we work our way north from “the end of the world.”

national news

Happy Trails, Part 46

GALLUP, N.M. — This retirement journey we’re on has taught me a wonderful lesson, which is that this big ol’ world of ours is actually quite small.

My wife and I don’t usually plug in to cable outlets when they’re available at RV parks where we stay. The RV park where we stay in Gallup has cable, so we tried it out. We usually rely on antenna reception, which is normally quite good.

We hooked up the cable. We got snowy pictures on all the channels. Lousy reception, man. I went back to the office to ask for some guidance from the RV park manager. He gave me a tip. I went back to the RV. Still no good. I unplugged the cable.

Then someone knocked on our RV door, sending Toby the Puppy into a barking frenzy.

“Hi. You were asking about cable TV?” the gentleman asked.

“My name is John,” he said. Hmm. I thought, “That’s a coincidence.” Then he added, “and I’m from Oregon.” Why he said that is beyond me. “Well, so am I,” I responded. My wife told John I grew up there. “Oh, really? Where?” he asked. “Portland,” I told him.  “I live in Corvallis,” he said.

He walked me through a couple of things about the cable hookup that I didn’t know. We tried to hook it up one more time. Still no good.

But I guess the real point of this brief blog post is to remind you all yet again that RV campers are among the nicest people on Planet Earth. They are willing to help. Such as John from Corvallis. He overheard me talking to the RV park office staff about my cable reception, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. I appreciate his thoughtfulness.

Plus, he’s a home boy from Oregon. That’s pretty cool, too.

local news

Happy Trails, Part 45

I want to talk about the seasons of the year for a brief moment.

What that has to do with retirement and the happy trail on which my wife and I are embarking will become apparent quite soon.

I’m normally a Spring Man. Spring historically has been my favorite season of the year. It’s the season of renewal after long, cold and occasionally damp winters on the High Plains of Texas, where we have lived for the past 22 years.

The grass miraculously starts turning green. The trees regain their foliage. The rain comes — often in torrents. The playas fill with water. And, yes, the wind blows hard.

This year might bring a different appreciation for another season.

Autumn arrived just a few days ago throughout the northern hemisphere of Planet Earth. We’ve had a good summer on the High Plains. We’ve had unseasonably heavy moisture, which has cut down on our water usage.

This autumn, though, is a season of immense transition for my wife and me. We’re preparing to relocate to points southeast of here. You see, we’ve been telling family members, friends and even people we barely know that we are being pulled in that direction by a 4-year-old girl who just happens to be our granddaughter, Emma. You’ve read about her on this blog.

But first things first. This time of transition is occurring as autumn moves forward. The transition requires considerable preparation for the move that’s pending.

We have lived in our house for nearly 21 years. It’s the longest span of time either of us has ever called a single place “home.” Our 46 years of marriage, moreover, have enabled us — if that’s the right verb — to acquire a lot of possessions. We’ve stuffed them into this house we’ve occupied for more than two decades. We have jettisoned a lot of it already. There’s more to go as we prepare to “downsize” to a more livable arrangement befitting a retired couple looking to spend more time with their granddaughter.

Given that retirement has given us ample time to do all these things, the task at hand now requires us to buckle down and commit to getting it all done before too much more time passes. I consider it a mix between a blessing and a curse in this post-working aspect of one’s life.

I get asked all the time, “Are you now fully retired? Or are you still doing this and that?” I am fully retired. Period. Next question.

That doesn’t mean I have nothing to do. I have plenty of tasks ahead of me. I merely await my marching orders from my much better — and more organized — half.

This transition awaits. Depending on how it all goes in short order, I might find myself a year from now forsaking spring as my favorite season and falling madly in love with autumn.

local news

It’s ve-wwwy quiet around here

I’m going through a touch of withdrawal.

You see, I am addicted to cable TV news shows. I cannot watch them in my house. Why? We’ve pulled the plug on our cable TV. And our land line. Soon, the Internet will be disconnected.

Our retirement journey is taking us into uncharted territory. Our fifth wheel RV is nearby. We were able to watch a couple of our favorite prime-time broadcast TV shows in our vehicle. But soon, we’ll be locking it up, starting the ignition in our pickup and heading to points north and west.

We’ll return eventually to our house, even though our RV is going to be our “home” for the next bit of time. The house will be as quiet as it is at this moment.

Our 4,000-mile journey — and that’s an approximation — will include stops that may or may not have cable TV. Those stops that do will enable me to get my cable TV news fix; those that don’t, well, I’ll have to settle for antenna reception.

I’ll be honest about something. I’m actually enjoying the peace and quiet around here. Yes, the withdrawal is real, although I’m not breaking out into a cold sweat; my hands aren’t trembling; my throat isn’t dry; I’m not snapping at my wife or at Toby the Puppy. It’s all good.

We’re preparing for the next big adventure, which includes a bit more work on the house and some decisions on how we intend to handle the moving of our worldly possessions from the house to somewhere to store all this stuff.

Then we finish touching up this and that, we put the house on the market, we live in our RV, wait for the house to sell and then …

The next — and final — adventure begins as we plot our relocation to a destination south and east of the Texas Panhandle.

As Elmer Fudd would say in the meantime: It’s ve-wwwy, ve-wwwy quiet around here — which is not an altogether bad thing.

local news

The plug is pulled; goodbye, land line

It is done. My wife and I have taken a huge step deeper into the 21st century.

Our land line is all but disabled. I removed the modem that powers the land line and will return it to our service provider Friday, along with the cable TV boxes.

But this land line termination is a big deal for my wife and me.

It’s all we’ve known for our entire lives. Speaking only for myself, a telephone hooked up to an outlet that comes from the wall has been a sort of life preserver. It’s kept me grounded. It has reminded me that I have this way to communicate immediately with whomever.

That era has passed. A new era has begun. We now rely solely on our cellular telephones to talk to folks. Oh, and we have the Internet. Social media communications devices are at our disposal, too. However, I am not going to use “text messaging” as a conversational tool.

This land line termination hasn’t quite hit me the way I expected it to do.

I once declared my intention to be the last person on Earth to own a cell phone. I declared victory some years ago and purchased one. I’ve become much more comfortable with the device on my person as I go through each day of my life. I don’t break into a cold sweat, though if I leave it at home while I go about my usual errand-running.

Retirement has brought a new way of living each day for my wife and me. I’ve gotten used to waking up each morning when I damn well feel like it. I have grown quite accustomed to not reporting for work every morning. I am quite comfortable shopping for groceries in, say, 10 a.m. on a Wednesday.

Our grand relocation strategy, moreover, is beginning to take some form. The to-do list of things we need to finish at our current home is shrinking. We’re better able now to identify the tasks that remain ahead of us.

One of them has just passed. We have pulled the plug on our land line. I am feeling strangely free. I’m no longer tethered to a telephone.

I’m still processing it all. Is there any sign of initial anxiety?

Nope. None.

***

I wrote about this event four years ago. I was full of angst and anxiety then. It seems to have gone away … mostly. However, it’s still a big deal.

https://highplainsblogger.com/2013/10/why-is-the-land-line-so-hard-to-cut/

media news

‘Texting’ becomes second nature … more or less!

I am going to brag just a little.

I’ve been quite dismissive and downright derisive of many aspects of “social media” over the years. Texting is one of those aspects that has drawn my most serious level of scorn. Some members of my family have heard me declare that I cannot say the word “text” in its verb form without adding a certain level of derision in my voice.

Indeed, I pepper this blog with such references when I use the term in that form.

Why the boast? Well, it’s that I am getting fairly proficient these days at texting. I once imposed a six-word limit on messages sent via this medium. I must confess here and now that I routinely go beyond that limit, but not by much.

I do, though, find that I’ve achieved a certain comfort level in communicating in that fashion when I have something of importance I want to say to someone. For instance, I sent a message to a gentleman informing him that my wife and I will be taking our fifth wheel RV on an extended trip soon. This fellow pulls it out of its parking slot in the garage where we store our RV. I needed 12 whole words to convey the message.

Also, I want to stipulate that I will never, not ever, converse with someone using this medium. At my advancing age, I find myself still relying on more conventional methods of conversation, such as picking up the telephone and calling someone. I also have been known to go to someone’s place of employment or even their home to converse with them, face to face. I do know individuals who like to “chat” with someone using their texting device.

https://highplainsblogger.com/2013/09/no-conversational-texting-will-be-done-promise/

I suppose this is my way of acknowledging that I am advancing farther into the 21st century, along with my sons, my daughter-in-law and my grandkids. I hear jokes all the time about how smart others’ pre-school grandkids know more about modern technology than their elders do. My wife and I are rapidly approaching the realm of those who have such technological wunderkinds in their family; little Emma — our 4-year-old granddaughter — is showing the faint first signs of being able to solve technology problems for us when they occur.

As long as I stay within my comfort zone, though, I’ll be all right. I plan to cling tightly to it as I text friends and family members.

Here’s the deal, though: That comfort zone seems to be expanding.

Who knew?

local news

Happy Trails, Part 44

A big moment is approaching rather rapidly for my wife and me as we progress farther into our retirement journey.

We’re getting close to pulling the plug on our landline, our home telephone.

Is this a big deal? It is! For me.

You see, I once declared my mission in life was to be the last man on Earth to own a cellular telephone. I resisted purchasing one for as long as I could.

Then I declared victory and purchased a cell phone. I haven’t been without it ever since. My wife has one, too. We have different phone numbers.

But we’ve kept our landline, or as we used to call it in the Army, our “Lima Lima.” 

We’re preparing to move eventually to the Metroplex. We still have some work to do before that day arrives, but the to-do list is shrinking.

When we vacate our house, hopefully soon, we’ll notify our telephone provider that we no longer will need the number. We’re going to rely exclusively on our cell phones.

I am well aware that for many folks and readers of this blog, that is no big deal. Our sons are landline-free. Many other younger members of our family are, too. We have friends who are roughly our age who’ve made the leap. They’re happy with it.

I reckon I’ll be just fine, too, when that day arrives. But still …

I grew up with landlines. They’ve been an integral part of my life. I actually can remember every single phone number I’ve ever had dating back to the house where I lived beginning in 1953. I know. It’s  a sickness that needs a cure.

The advantages of cell phone use are well known. You take the number with you wherever you go. We intend to be on the road a good deal in the years ahead. I’ve mentioned already about intention to visit as much of North America as we can before we’re no longer able to do so.

However, we cannot be without our phones. Thus, the cell phone becomes our singular mode of communication.

Sigh. Wish me luck, please, as we prepare for this big step. I’ve noted to friends and family that everyone should have one big challenge awaiting them before they check out. Ours is coming up quickly. It involves pulling the plug on our landline.

I’ll keep you posted.

national news

Happy Trails, Part 43

MESA VERDE NATIONAL PARK, Colo. — Oh, how I love parks. National parks, state parks, municipal parks. You name ’em. I love ’em.

We’ve spent a good bit of travel time visiting and staying at public parks. They’re quite friendly to us recreational vehicle users. What’s more, the National Park Service has this wonderful perk it extends to us older folks. It’s called a “Senior Pass.” It gets us into national parks for free — for the rest of our lives.

Texas’s state parks system also allows us free entry, but it’s not a lifetime pass. We have to renew it annually. It’s worth it for us, given that (a) state park overnight RV lodging is cheap and (b) the state parks in Texas generally are places of beauty.

We ventured to Mesa Verde National Park, which is about 40 miles west of Durango. It features 1,000-year-old — and older — cliff dwellings carved out of canyon walls high up in the mountains. It’s about a 20-mile drive from the park entrance to where one can see the dwellings. It’s a winding, highly scenic excursion along the way.

If I had one gripe about our national parks, it’s that they aren’t exactly pet friendly. We found this out on another trip to Guadalupe Mountains National Park in Texas and at Carlsbad Caverns National Park in New Mexico.

We had to sneak Toby the Puppy along with us to Mesa Verde’s exhibits. He wasn’t allowed to walk along any trails, but since we didn’t see “trails” as I understand the meaning of the word, we took him with us along paved walkways toward the exhibits; then we would pick up him and pack him through some of the dwelling exhibits.

Shhh! Don’t rat me out … please.

Our travels are going to take us to many more of these federal parks. I believe we’ve been to 17 national parks already in our 46 years of life together. One of my unofficial bucket-list objectives is to see all of them before I’m no longer able to travel long distances.

So … the adventure continues.

national news

Happy Trails, Part 42

SILVERTON, Colo. — Our retirement trail took us to what I believe is one of the most picturesque towns I’ve ever seen.

Silverton sits in a valley surrounded by peaks of the San Juan Mountains. It’s perched 9,318 feet above sea level.

They run a narrow-gauge train between Silverton and Durango. We chose to drive it ourselves along one of the most spectacular stretches of U.S highway I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

It’s U.S. 550. It tops out between Durango and Silverton at a pass that measures 10,640 feet above sea level. And, yes, the aspen are starting to turn into that spectacular yellow one sees on those Rocky Mountain postcards.

I want to mention this visit because it kind of surprised us when we arrived at this town. We hadn’t planned on making it a destination during our day on the road. It turned out to be.

It’s a small burg, to be sure. It looks rustic in the extreme. City Hall was built in 1908. It’s single street is lined with a series of gift shops, coffee houses, joints that serve craft beer, barbeque restaurants.

Interestingly, I didn’t see any, um, head shops or places that sell marijuana. They made “recreational marijuana” legal in Colorado a year ago. Actually, on our most recent visits to Colorado, I haven’t discovered a huge cannabis influence in people’s daily lives. Then again, I might not be looking in the right places to find it.

Silverton, though, has emerged as one of those post-retirement discoveries we have made on our journey across North America. The only other town I can compare to it might be Deadwood, S.D., which we saw not quite a year ago on our way home from Mount Rushmore.

I am willing to bet the farm that we’ll have many more of these discoveries in the years to come.