Flea Market Finds – Picture Gallery
Easin’ Along…in Search of Perfection – Guest Blog
Retirement Reflections is a wonderful retirement lifestyle blog created by Donna Connolly, a resident of British Columbia. A link to her blog can be found here and in the sidebar on this page under blogs that I follow. Recently Donna asked me to submit a guest blog to Retirement Reflections for her Summer Sunday Series: Favorite Retirement and Lifestyle Bloggers. I consider her request a great honor.
As we observe the second anniversary of Easin’ Along and welcome the many new subscribers that have joined us in recent months, I decided to post the article I submitted to Retirement Reflections as a way of outlining what is meant by a retirement activity we call Easin’ Along. I hope you enjoy it.
We named our website Easin’ Along simply because those are the words that describe our retired lifestyle. We invite readers along on a Slow Walk through the Golden Years with a focus on our faith, a love of the road less traveled, a passion for great food, and memorable moments with our family and our dear friends. From the beginning, our purpose was to participate in and promote an active retirement lifestyle, combine those activities with a love of writing, and share our experiences with Easin’ Along readers.
In the years leading up to retirement, Helen (adorable wife) and I had both compiled long “do lists” filled with things we hoped to accomplish once retirement was no longer just a plan. Our vision for the Golden Years was a busy lifestyle filled with activities that we could only dream about while working full-time. We had passions to pursue, and new interests to explore. Additionally, we both shared a craving for time spent traveling to fascinating places that lay just over the horizon and beyond. Our mission would be simple…catch sight of the perfect sunrise and toast the perfect sunset.
In my case, all hopes and plans probably have been propelled by memories of my father who, throughout my adolescence, kept a toy truck camper in his study. That camper represented his dreams of long road trips with my mother once he put away his briefcase. Unfortunately, cancer took away those dreams, and my father, before his 53rd birthday. To this day, the memory of his premature death prompts me to get up and get moving.
Within days of joining the ranks of the retired, we took Easin’ Along readers on a five-week road trip exploring the East Coast, traveling from the Outer Banks of North Carolina to the deep woods of Maine. We have taken readers on three more extended journeys since, including our most recent trip where we rented a motor home, named it Sherman, and drove from Chicago to the Pacific coast on a sojourn we titled Sherman’s March to the Sea.
Once smitten by the RV lifestyle, a travel trailer named Bertha soon followed us home. In the future, we will share some of our activities on the road with Bertha, either across the country or perhaps to a military installation…preferably near a beach town. We might also load up and head out to one of the many fairs and food festivals in a mountain community nearby. We’re perpetually on the lookout for events where we can enjoy the Bluegrass or Appalachian folk music for which our region is known, as well as the opportunity to amble over to a flea or farmer’s market and browse…slowly.
When not traveling, we stay busy. Helen has found new interests that she enjoys enthusiastically having uncovered a love for both pottery and pickleball. Somehow, she manages to work both into a schedule that includes arranging flowers for the church, singing in the choir, and treasured time with friends. As for me, I serve as an elder in our church and sit on two committees there. I participate in two exercise classes at the YMCA, and my mission to master art through the lens of my camera is an ongoing endeavor.
If I’m completely honest, I will confess that there are aspects of working full-time that I find myself missing on occasion. I miss the friends and the relationships I accumulated over many years of a career building homes. I find myself missing time around young people and feeling the effects of their boundless energy and enthusiasm and their connection to things current. I miss the daily challenges that one confronts in the workplace and the process of finding successful solutions to those challenges. Finally, I miss earning a paycheck—not because of the money, but because every dime I ever received represented hard work, dedication, and a contribution toward the task of accomplishing a goal. Nevertheless, I’m not trading any of the above for the job I have now.
The greatest blessing to come out of retirement is that I have been afforded the time to write. I truly and truthfully enjoy every minute I spend composing posts and articles for Easin’ Along. Having just passed the second anniversary of the first post, I can honestly say that being able to share our activities with others is both a gift and a joy. The thought that a weekly creative commitment is something to dread has never, ever, entered my mind and I cannot envision the day that I will tire of writing.
Helen and I also remain committed to the job of searching for the perfect rising or setting sun. Shared above is a sunrise Helen captured on a pre-dawn walk along the shores of Lake Michigan last fall, plus my favorite sunset photo, taken from the pier in Hermosa Beach, CA is shared below this post. We have yet to witness perfection, but as is evident, we have ventured close. Therefore, our search continues and probably, hopefully, always will.
We remain firm in our conviction that retirement is the best gig going, and, for as long as we are able, we will continue…Easin’ Along.
Joe Bruner retired from a career in the home building industry and a second career as an officer in the US Army Reserve. He and his wife Helen, who retired from the staff of a private preparatory school, live in Knoxville, Tennessee. They have written extensively about their travels and retirement lifestyle on their website Easin’ Along (www.easingalong.com). Their articles also appear on Militaryliving.com and in R & R Travel News.
Saying Goodbye to a Very Loyal Friend
Wilbur was probably the most loyal friend I ever had. With great sadness and eyes filled with tears, I said goodbye to him this week as he crossed the rainbow bridge. Wilbur made that passage in much the same way he did everything else…with calm dignity.
Seventeen years ago Helen (adorable wife) and I moved into a new home that we had just completed on the lake and surrounded by trees. It was early winter and a squadron of mice decided to move in with us and take over our basement. I was building several houses at that time and complained about the mice to a brick mason on one of our projects. Buddy, my brick mason friend, lived in one of the nearby farming communities and offered me one of the thirty feral cats that he fed daily as a way of bringing the mice under control.
Always a cat lover, I thought long and hard about his offer. The problem was that Helen had professed a strong disdain for cats and convincing her to allow one into her new home would be a real challenge. At the end of the work day, I returned to Buddy and said I would accept his offer, but I had three specifications for a cat. First, the cat had to be an ardent supporter of the Tennessee Volunteers and therefore it needed to be Orange and White. Second, the cat had to have the potential to be BIG. No scrawny wimps would be tolerated. Third, if the new addition did not work out or if Helen put her foot down, Buddy would allow me to bring it back to his feeding station. He said he thought he had just what we needed.
Several weeks passed and I had all but forgotten about my discussion with Buddy, but one Sunday morning Helen and I returned home from church to find a large cage on our front porch. Inside the cage calmly sat an orange and white cat. On top of the cage was a note that read “My name is Tom and I’m yours”!
Tom was a mess. Hair was missing on one-third of his body from mange. Blood and other junk were seeping from his nose, and fleas were having a field day on his naked skin. Nevertheless, there was something very appealing about this orange mess. When he was released from the cage, I expected him to run for the woods, but instead, he walked over and began rubbing his head on my pants leg as he chattered away in a low mutter. He had me from hello. Helen’s nurturing instincts took over immediately and said we needed to get him to a Vet and get him cured of his ailments. Thankfully, that was the only discussion we had about allowing him to join the family.
Being that it was a Sunday, there were no Vet clinics open so I confined our new friend to the basement and went to buy some cat food, a water bowl, kitty litter and litter box. Helen placed an old blanket on the basement floor as a bed. The next morning I opened the basement door to gather Tom and take him to the Vet. Sitting on the top step, was a cat and a half-eaten mouse. I assumed he was giving me a deposit on the rent and the Vet bill.
It was a good thing because the trip to the Vet was expensive. After treatments for mange, a respiratory infection, de-worming, and neutering, I was left holding a tab for over $400. There was no way that this cat was going anywhere until our basement was free of rodents. He was officially ours and put to work immediately. The veterinarian estimated his age to be about three years.
Over time, this arranged adoption worked out extremely well. From the day he returned from the veterinarian, he was my constant companion and followed me around like a lovesick puppy. Because he was constantly talking to us, he was given the name Wilbur from the owner of the TV talking horse of the 50’s. Helen loved the way he chattered away and it gave her someone to talk to in the mornings when I was still in the non-contact zone. For someone who never liked cats, she soon was admittin’ to being smitten with this kitten.
Wilbur was polydactyl, meaning that he was born with six toes on his front paws as opposed to the five toes of normal cats. He also had an extra dew claw between his thumb and first toe. Mice, once caught, never had a chance with Wilbur, and within months we never saw another one in our basement. He also did a number on moles, chipmunks, and even small rabbits in our yard. This cat was born to hunt. Surprisingly, he gave birds their distance. I always supposed that Helen had laid down the law to him in their morning conversations.
Laid back but never lazy, Wilbur went through mice and Meow Mix in a frenzy and his weight soon ballooned from 14 to over 26 pounds. His mange went away quickly and he was blessed with a shining orange coat and a shimmering white patch across his chest. I was blessed with the big cat I always wanted. Wilbur was a real stud…metaphorically speaking. Although we had five animals in our household, Wilbur took the “Best Pet” trophy almost every month.
His ability to capture mice notwithstanding, it was his charm that warmed Wilbur to everyone. He was a people cat. Unlike most cats that are indifferent and downright disagreeable, Wilbur never met a stranger. After we downsized to a smaller home, I was concerned as to how he would react in a neighborhood with a lot of folks out walking the streets. My concerns were unfounded. Wilbur soon got to know everyone and sought out anyone who would permit him to rub his head on their ankles as he had always done to me.
Time marched on and seventeen years after arriving at our doorstep as an orphan, Wilbur, at age 20, began to let us know that it was time to say goodbye. Instead of sleeping on our feet and leading me to the treat basket the first thing every morning, he began sleeping in a closet. His weight dropped precipitously to around 12 pounds, and suddenly he did the one thing he had never done–he stopped using his litter box. Time and kidney failure had taken a toll.
On Monday of this week, knowing that the inevitable was coming, I did everything imaginable to avoid making a call to the Vet who had first treated him so long ago. Finally, I placed the call, made an appointment, and cried all the way there. We diverted to pass by our former home where he first came to us. I suppose it was to recall some great days and perhaps another way of stalling for more time.
I entered the veterinarian’s office where I was greeted warmly by the staff who spoke in hushed tones. The Veterinarian led me to an office and left me alone with Wilbur for a few minutes together. When he returned, he was extremely comforting to me and incredibly and professionally humane to Wilbur. Within a few minutes Wilbur passed quietly, and my loyal friend was now a memory.
So long, Wilbur, we’ll try Easin’ Along without you.
It is so very strange not having him around…I miss him more than I can put into words.
Special thanks are extended to Dr. Bihl and Volunteer Veterinary Clinic for many years of professional care for our animals and for the kind comfort extended to me this week during a very difficult situation. We remain eternally grateful.