Category Archives: Transition

Because There’s Not Enough Wine or Chocolate in the World for This

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This has been a tough week for me. Perhaps for you, too. I avoided the inauguration, choosing instead to honor Martin Luther King Jr., truly a man of vision, integrity, and character. Nevertheless, my emotions have been turbulent. What follows is the evolution of my feelings. Feel free to skip to whatever part you need to hear today. 

Frustration 

“Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.”  Martin Luther King, Jr. from Strength to Love

The first blog I wrote this week was about my frustration and dismay that so many Trump supporters reject mainstream media and rely on social media and political podcasts to form their views. In other words, user-generated content—someone else’s opinion. Facts are not expected or required.

I struggled to think about how Trump’s supporters could possibly be influenced. How do verifiable truths become accepted again? Certainly not with factual arguments. But experiences can change minds. I hope that when it becomes clear he can’t deliver on his many outrageous promises, some of his supporters (not all–the diehard believers are beyond our influence) will become disillusioned and their disappointment will erode his power.

• • •

Then I thought, maybe WordSisters readers can’t bear another political conversation right now. So the next blog I wrote turned practical. 

Survival Tactics

“The dawn will come. Disappointment, sorrow, and despair are born at midnight, but morning follows.” Martin Luther King, Jr. from Strength to Love

It’s imperative we not give up. But the bombardment of Trump’s awful decisions and destructive actions is hard to cope with. So I thought about sharing my survival tactics. 

1. Focus on your family and friends. This is the sphere where you can have the biggest impact. Talk often, hang out together, plan meals and outings together. Take care of each other.

2. Consume less news. Skimming headlines is fine. When you have limited power to effect change, being informed in a topline way is plenty. Read, listen, or watch news later in the day. Allow the good parts of your day to happen first. Good stuff dilutes the overwhelm. Avoid the many opinion pieces that speculate (Trump might ___. If Trump’s cabinet does this ____ might be at risk). Save your worry and anger for actual events.

I believe in those coping mechanisms, but sometimes the world is too heavy and we need more.

• • •

Inspiration 

What finally helped me the most was focusing on Martin Luther King, Jr.’s wisdom. He continued believing and fighting for years and years regardless of the many hardships and setbacks he and the other civil rights leaders experienced. We can too.

“Let us rise up tonight with a greater readiness. Let us stand with a greater determination. And let us move on in these powerful days, these days of challenge to make America what it ought to be. We have an opportunity to make America a better nation.” Martin Luther King, Jr., from his speech in Memphis the night before he died.

Our Trip South

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Our ‘before’ leaving Minnesota photo.

“We’re doing this,” we both said. Fist bump.

On September 30, Jody and I backed out of our driveway in our 29 ft. Class A RV. Destination: Zachary Taylor RV Park, Okeechobee Fl., 1,671 miles away. Hurricane Helene had made landfall and Milton was threatening. We were driving towards chaos, towards uncertainty. In 16 days, our 6-month workcamper job started at the RV park.

Would we enjoy living in an RV for six months? Would this lead to full-time RVing? How would Jody and I do living in such close quarters … all the time? Would we enjoy the RV community? Would we be interested in boondocking (camping in a remote location)? Would our two small dogs accept RV life?

Four days after we left home, 215 people were known to have died as the result of Hurricane Helene since it made landfall in Florida. Hurricane Milton would make landfall in 5 days, a possible category 5 hurricane.

Months ago, we made camping reservations at state parks and planned to visit relatives. We limited our travel to 4-5 hours a day and camped for no less than 2 days.

Flexibility and being comfortable with unknowns were our mantras. We continued south, while relatives updated us daily on the weather.

“It’s an adventure. We’re doing this.” Fist bump.

Bennett Springs State Park

Our first destination was Sugar River State Park in Durand, Illinois. We weren’t expecting answers so quickly—darkness, quiet, and remoteness left us feeling vulnerable. 82 campsites with only 3 other campers. Jody and I agreed that boondocking was not for us and we would be happy to return to our sticks and bricks home after six months. Hiking was excellent amongst the woods and prairies where we could let the dogs run off leash. Buddy and Sadie were proving to be good travelers.

It was at our cousin’s home in West Frankfurt, Illinois where we truly felt retired for the first time. Sitting outside next to their pool, visiting for hours, was self-indulgent. Before, our retirement plan seemed to have been volunteering at sporting and music venues to financially contribute to Juan and Crystel’s college education. Heading south brought that to a hard stop. Our paradigm had shifted. This was about us.

Continuing south we camped at Bennett Spring State Park in Lebanon, Missouri. Stocked daily with rainbow trout, the park attracted anglers who lined the shores and stood knee and waist deep in the water casting lures, flies, and spinners. Jody and I remained on land and enjoyed the miles of hiking forests, woodlands, bluffs, sunny glades, and dry stream beds with the dogs.

Gus-Gus. Hattiesburg, MS KOA

War Eagle Creek falls off the top of an Ozark Mountain. The 59-mile flow is never dry, and changes through four seasons. The headwaters form in the hardwoods of the Ozark National Forest and streams through Jody’s sister and brother-in-law’s pastureland before spilling into Beaver Lake, the water supply for Northwest Arkansas cities and towns. Jody, the dogs, and I rode a four-wheeler with her sister driving amongst the grazing bulls, cattle, and calves until we reached a sacred area: bluff shelters on the right that the Native Americans, Osage, Quapaw, and Caddo used for protection against the elements and the creek on the other side. Men, women and children camped here to fish, hunt animals, and collect plant foods. Fire scars remained on the rock shelters from their fires.

Wall Doxey State Park in Mississippi had few campers. A couple was escaping in their camper van from Hurricanes Helene and Milton. Hiding out until it was safe to return to their home in Punto Gorda, Florida. While at the park we were informed that our reservations in Florida– Florida Caverns State Park, Alfia River State Park and Lake Manatee State Park were cancelled due to unsafe conditions. Instead of extending our stay at the state park, we continued south 270 miles to a KOA in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. Inching ever closer to our final destination of Okeechobee, Florida.

At the KOA, Gus-Gus the cat chose me. Gus followed Jody, the dogs and me home after a walk. I took note of his concave belly, told him to wait outside our RV, and got a can of wet dog food. After he ate, I gave him a bowl of dry dog food. Gus joined me in the dog pen, lounging on the dog bed as if he belonged. Buddy and Sadie were accommodating. This may have been because Gus looked like Juan’s cat at home and his name is also Gus-Gus.

Sunset, Perry, Florida KOA

My bond with the cat was making Jody increasingly nervous. She reminded me that there was not space in the RV for a litter box. For the next several days, Gus got to be a cat, laying in the sun, safe, purring when I stroked him, contented that he was being fed and watered. There were several stories making the rounds about Gus. The one I decided to believe was that a lady had brought her cats from her house in Florida, van camped for a few nights – set up a tent and play station for her many cats, and Gus wasn’t ready to return when she was, and she inadvertently left him. It was difficult for me to say goodbye to Gus. I racked my brain for how two people, two dogs, and a cat could survive in a 29 ft. RV and decided that we couldn’t. I said a prayer and left Gus in the care of the living and the spiritual realm.

Zachary Taylor RV Park

There weren’t any cats claiming me in the Perry, Florida KOA, our last stop before Okeechobee. It was the first location that we could see the damage wrought by Helene. Piles of debris were on the roadway. Electrical trucks ferried up and down the highway. The sunset not damaged by the hurricanes was a gorgeous hue of oranges.

Our final l289 miles to Okeechobee were uneventful. Driving into Zachary Taylor RV Park, I honked the horn marking our arrival. I hollered, “The Minnesotans are in the house!”

Let the adventure continue. Fist bump.

Adventure Travel

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Challenging, uncertain conditions, erratic weather, steep ascents, and descents.

Tour du Mont Blanc (TMB), one of the most popular long-distance walks in Europe, also described my internal climate. The TMB is a 112- mile hiking trail that circles Mont Blanc in France, Italy, and Switzerland.

“Let’s go,” I told Jody. “This is something for US.”

In April, Jody and I volunteered for 25 sporting and entertainment events at 5 different venues to raise grant funds for Juan and Crystel’s schooling. In May we are scheduled for 18 events.

Kosher stand at Twins stadium

Jody and I often manage the kosher stand at the Twins stadium. It was there, while grilling kosher hot dogs and vegan sriracha brats with the smell of onions permeating every piece of my clothing that bad weather started coming in. Overlooking third base, I had the distinct feeling, I don’t want to do this anymore.

The TMB is a classic long-distance hike. Jody and I did a classic parenting move and overextended ourselves. I wanted to bust out of myself. Explode.

I started researching international challenging hikes. The uphills of the TMB are consistently steep and over a long distance. Most days hikers are hiking through at least one mountain pass, though sometimes two or three. Often hikers are not able to see the pass from the trailhead for that day, and if you look too far ahead, it could feel like an endless amount of hiking.

Perfect.

We were hiking that terrain now.

Taking time at the dog park

I don’t want a day to go by without me being in it. Sitting on my patio, journaling, listening to the birds, feeling the sun’s warmth, pausing to see the trees sway and clouds flowing – that is my heaven. Closing my eyes, hearing it all.

Jody and I have shifted our paradigm to us. Less volunteering. More patio time. International hikes on the horizon. Already, I’m feeling more settled.

Though the TMB resembled my internal climate the Alpe Adria Trail (AAT) is more to my abilities. It is a long-distance trail that runs through three countries: from Austria, through Slovenia to Italy. It is often described as a pleasure hiker’s delight. Jody and I have signed up with a group to hike among mountain peaks, green valleys and along clear Alpine rivers and lakes. The trail connects the three countries from the Alpine glaciers to the Adriatic coast.

It’s not always, how are the children?  It’s also, how am I?

“Why, in my day . . .”

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Growing up, I recall elders recounting tales about life before some innovation. Today, the advent of artificial intelligence (AI) is a hinge moment like so many technological advances I’ve experienced in the last 40 years. I look back on past breakthroughs with wonder and nostalgia. I’m trying to come to terms with current developments.

1984 – Desktop Computers

I roll my eyes when young volunteer coordinators enquire if I’m comfortable with computers. In 1984, my boss handed me boxes for an Apple IIe desktop computer and an amber monitor (orange type on a black screen) and told me to set them up so I could write marketing and training materials. 

1989 – Internet

Today, that old setup is quaint and humorous—a one-color monitor, 5¼ inch diskettes, a computer that didn’t connect to the Internet . . . because the World Wide Web wasn’t mainstream until 1989-90.

When the Internet became commonplace, we used painfully slow telephone dial-up modems with their crackling static and rubber band sound. Modems meant I no longer had to courier work product files to my customers on diskettes, which had shrunk to 3½ inches. 

1994 – 2001 – Search Engines and Websites

In the mid-1990s, search engines like Yahoo, AOL, and Netscape came on the scene and Search Engine Optimization (SEO) helped people, products, and businesses get found. Google started in 1998. It’s hard to imagine a time before Google, when research meant visiting a brick and mortar library to use printed resources that might be checked out to someone else.

As websites grew common, having one for my business became important. A friend and I designed and rolled out mine in 2001. Several versions followed until I retired it several years ago.

1996 – Cell Phones 

For me, the next technological cliff came around 1996 or 1997 when small cell phones arrived. They made calls. That’s it. If you had the patience to tap number buttons repeatedly, you could eke out texts. No camera. No Internet. No email. No music. No maps. Next, I owned a different dumb phone that opened to a qwerty keyboard. Around 2005, I acquired a fancier flip phone with a camera. Woohoo! Before long my 35mm digital camera was obsolete.

2007 – Smartphones

The world shifted dramatically again when the iPhone was introduced in 2007—the best of the available smartphones. Cell phones had enabled me to keep up on client calls and emails seamlessly when I was away from my home office—in other words, an early version of remote work. Staying connected with family became immensely simpler too.

2007 – 2008 – Facebook & Twitter

The advent of social media—Facebook and Twitter along with their many step-children—has transformed the world. How we discover, understand, and consume news. How we see ourselves and connect with or demonize others. There’s no denying social media’s far-reaching impact. Despite my mixed feelings about Facebook, it’s where a number of readers find our blogs. 

Now – Artificial Intelligence

Evidence of artificial intelligence is everywhere—Siri and Alexa, helpful spelling prompts in texts and emails, blank-eyed, AI-drawn models in ads, and who knows how many AI functions we are unaware of. 

AI makes me uneasy. But I don’t want to be a Luddite, so I’ve told myself I really ought to dig in, try to understand its scope, possibilities, and implications . . . insofar as any non-AI developer can. I’ve begun experimenting with ChatGPT as a research tool (think of all the data it accesses), but it’s never going to be writing my blogs! Count on 100% Ellen, all the time.

Five years from now, when the next technological wonder launches, who knows what we’ll be saying?

Liminal Space

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Wednesday and Thursday in Minneapolis were a liminal space. Tuesday was in the low 90s and sunny. I welcomed my book group into our air-conditioned house instead of the baking patio, and I served lemonade pie, a frozen confection which suited summer’s last gasp.

During the night cool air crept in. No storm signaled it, but Wednesday dawned in the low 60s. The overcast day felt like a pause. A chance for our bodies to sit with the transition. Acknowledge and accept it. We were no longer part of the humid blanket of summer but not yet into the cool sunny days of fall.

So often we forget that we’re more than walking brains. We tend to ignore our animal nature. But some deep instinct responds to the season’s change–the later sunrises and earlier sunsets. The coming cold and darkness of winter. Beyond the sudden urge for apples instead of peaches and soups instead of salads is the emotional shift many of us feel. An awareness that feels metaphorical as well as physical.

Some are sad that summer’s over and won’t return for nine months. Others are relieved and energized by the sense of a new beginning–it’s a new season and time for new habits, new possibilities. This year, have seemed unsettled by the season’s abrupt change. I’ve sensed an undercurrent of unnamed emotions.

Today is sunny and in the mid-70s. Those underlying instincts are forgotten. Dissipated like the heavy cloud cover that pinned us in place on Wednesday and Thursday. Many have returned to being busy walking brains. But our bodies remember.