A Day Trip to Nowhere

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We had an Adventure!

Sure, I have been out of the house since social distancing became a thing. I've gone to the grocery store a few times (Steve does most of the grocery shopping), I've had several doctor appointments for cataract surgery and follow up, two Costco trips, and one carefully distanced dinner with friends at a reopened restaurant.

But that's a far cry from the retirement I had planned when I left my job of 21 years in February. A cross-country road trip, regular yoga classes and gym time, etc. etc. were all cancelled by the pandemic. Instead I have stayed home except for absolutely necessary outings.

I attended a conference immediately after I retired, where I handled admin and logistical tasks. I consulted with my replacement at my old job by (sometimes lengthy) phone calls. I wrote (fewer days than I should), I did yard work and cleaned the house and washed dishes and clothes. I watched way too damned much television, and knitted my way through piles of yarn.

But I didn't take a day and get out of the house just for the sheer escape of it. I didn't see anything outside my tiny bubble, and the lack of connection to the outside world was taking its toll.

So a couple days ago Steve and I took off in the late morning for a drive. We had no plan, no destination, and no limits. We didn't get home until after 8, and it was marvelous! We spent nearly all the time in the car, but it was a beautiful day and we saw things we had never seen.

We drove to McMinnville (about 50 miles) for lunch from Arby's, one of the many chains we don't have in our small town. Then we drove around the local area, stopping at Evergreen Air & Space Museum. The indoor waterpark was closed of course (and I would seriously love to meet the pilot that landed that 747 on top of the building! *G*). Steve took some pictures of outdoor exhibits, but neither one of us was comfortable about going in, even though with masks and only a few people in a building large enough to house the Spruce Goose it was probably safe.

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"Probably" safe isn't my jam at the moment. I masked up, walked up to the ticket counter and stuck a few bucks in the donation jar. We figured that were probably hurting as much or more than everyone, and we had benefited from the outside exhibits, so we gave them some love and went on our way.

We drove around back roads east of McMinnville, and ended up in Wheatland, where we decided to take the Wheatland Ferry over to Salem.

For those of you not familiar with Oregon geography, most of the state is defined by its rivers. The mighty Columbia forms the western two-thirds of our northern border, the Deschutes runs through Central Oregon where it powers hydroelectric facilities and eventually joins the Columbia, and the Willamette -well, a large swath of Western Oregon IS named the WIllamette Valley. It was this last one we crossed on the Ferry.

We got in line and as is common around here we were behind a large pickup truck so we couldn't see much. We were speculating about how many cars the boat could carry because we couldn't actually see it around the truck. Steve shrugged and said, "Well, it can't take too many, otherwise it would just be a bridge." For some reason I thought that was hysterical. Even after all these years he still makes me laugh. I think that's a relationship goal right there.

The picture above was taken from the ferry as we made the crossing, one of 8 or 9 vehicles on the boat. The crossing is a whopping 580 feet and took only a couple minutes, but it was just so utterly charming, and we couldn't have asked for better weather for out excursion!

From there we drove toward Salem and continued east into rural areas and small towns we had never really visited. We dawdled along back roads, circled in block in a couple tiny towns in order to see a particular historical artifact or interesting building. We saw field after field of unidentifiable green things growing the the rich soil of the river valley, with the occasional field of flowers - I think one was lavender and the another was golden poppies - providing spots of brilliant color that no camera can do justice to.

For the first time in the 30+ years we've lived in Oregon we visited the Abbey at Mt. Angel, a far larger place than I expected. It sits at the top of a hill overlooking a wide swath of the valley amid tall evergreens, with spectacular views. It was truly beautiful and peaceful. The small town below is the home of a local Oktoberfest, and the entire town is themed around that celebration. Someone I know described it as constructed entirely of sausage and beer.

We circled back into Salem, headed for the highway that would take us back across the river and over the coast range that separates our little town from the Willamette Valley. In the end we drove more than 200 miles, spent several hours just gawking at things, and ended right back where we started.

It finally struck me late in the day that I had not taken a real day off since retirement. I hadn't gone to work, but I hadn't really taken a recreation break either, and I was feeling that far more than I realized. Until I did take a real day off.

It was an Adventure, but it was also a necessary mental health day. I didn't realize how much I needed it!

Recommendation: Hamilton, the Revolution

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Recommended Reading

Hamilton: The Revolution

by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Jeremy McCarter

Unless you're been living under a rock for the last five years, you've heard of the Tony-award-winning musical "Hamilton." Based on the biography by Pulitzer Prize winner Ron Chernow, the innovative production took the theater world by storm, spawning standing productions and touring companies, plus the recent release of a filmed version on the Disney+ streaming service.

I was fortunate enough to see one of the touring companies. The live performances are stunning, well worth the price I paid for my ticket - enough so that I made an out-of-state trip to see it a second time.

The recommended reading, however, isn't the musical itself, or even the Chernow biography. Brilliant though they are, and as much as I recommend both of them, what I really want to bring to your attention is the book written by Lin-Manuel Miranda (the creator of the musical) and Jeremy McCarter, whose creative resume includes New York magazine, and New York's Public Theater (the off-Broadway home of "Hamilton").

This book is a behind-the-scenes look at the creation of the hit musical. The full libretto is included, with a series of footnotes detailing Miranda's work on specific lines or references. There are interviews with people involved with the production, tracing the development from Miranda's first improbable appearance at the White House in 2009 to the stunning Broadway opening night July 13, 2015.

Along the way Miranda and his team explored new and exciting ways to bring this story to the stage. Throughout the book Miranda discusses his creative choices, his musical influences, and the personal history than informs and illuminates his creation.

The book is lavishly illustrated, and this is one book I highly recommend you get it hardcover.

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If you have seen and loved the play, or watched the filmed version, or listened to the original cast recording or The Hamilton Mixtape or even Weird Al's Hamilton Polka, this book will offer insights into the creative process that brought this phenomenon to life.

While the book may resonate more fully with fans of "Hamilton" I believe the exploration of its creation will offer insights into the creative process for everyone.

Hamilton: The Revolution, by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Jeremy McCarter

Grand Central Publishing (April 12, 2016) 288 pages

ISBN 978-1455539741

Also available in ebook and audio

{The above is an Amazon link. I am not currently an Amazon affiliate and I do not benefit in any way from this link.)

Welcome to My World

I live just above the tsunami zone in a tiny town on the Oregon Coast. The evacuation signs? They point to our neighborhood.

Right now that’s a metaphor for my life.

After working for nearly 55 years, the last 21 in the same job, I retired. After more than 20,000 days of employment I no longer live by anyone else’s schedule. My time is my own.

My purpose here is to document the transition from a middle manager with a sideline writing novels to a full-time creative; my journey into a full embrace of the modern maker movement in all its chaotic glory.

I won’t make this journey alone. I have a husband, children, friends, mentors, and colleagues who will all be a part of this.

I want this to be a record of the journey: the good, the bad, the ugly, the successes and the abject failures. I promise you this will be a real-time, warts-and-all, narrative of what happens when a semi-successful creative leaves the relative security of a decent job with a steady paycheck and benefits for the life of a full-time creative.

There are a lot of challenges ahead. Financial upheaval. Schedules destroyed. Relationships tested. Family disruption. Travel dreams. Drowning in a sea of possibilities.

I don’t know how I will address the issues, nor how they will be (eventually) resolved. But I can guarantee there will be some adventures along the way, and I hope to uncover some insights that will help those creatives and makers who want more than just a comfortable retirement.

Growing up in the 1950s and 60s retirement was next-door to death. Our parents and grandparents worked hard, retired at 65, and died before they turned 70. Retirement was mostly a few years of possibly-poor-health.

Now, we retire earlier and live longer, giving us time for a second act, or a third. Our health is better, we have treatments for ailments that were debilitating a generation earlier. For creatives especially it is a time of freedom from other peoples’ schedules, a time to make the things we want to make.

For me retirement was delayed well past 65 for various practical reasons, mostly financial. My (younger) husband, a full-time freelance writer for our entire marriage (36 years and counting) needed access to health insurance. When we found an affordable way around that, I gave my notice and left my office for the last time on the 15th of February, just a few months shy of my 72nd birthday.

Which brings us to today.

I’m in good health, I have a part-time consulting gig to supplement my Social Security and retirement, my husband has taken a flexible part-time job with access to health insurance, we’ve reduced our debt over the last couple years to reduce or eliminate those pesky monthly payments; in short, we have done the things the standard retirement articles tell us to do. Unfortunately we haven’t done all the things; there are home repairs not finished, we have two cars that are paid for but we’ve recently realized that we need a different vehicle (which may entail a financial hit), I need cataract surgery and have it scheduled in the next few weeks. All manageable but certainly not optimal. It would have been much better to take care of that stuff while there was that comfy paycheck to help deal with it.

But that’s the standard stuff, for people who have a standard retirement. Creatives are not “standard” people; they have a different worldview, a different way of looking at things, different needs.

There are going to be a lot of things that come up over time, and most of us have no idea where all those bumps are in our paths. I hope that you will share your bumps with me, that the comments, questions, and discussions will help us all figure out the road ahead.

{Note: Since I first wrote this piece I have had my cataract surgery and a very successful recovery. Modern medicine is a Very Good Thiing.}

Finding the Path Ahead

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I’ve taken a lot of leaps into the darkness in my life.

In my 30s I left a bad marriage with only the clothes on my back and a rattletrap retired postal van. At least I had a decent job.

In my 40s my second husband and I decided it was time to move out of Seattle. We’d saved some money, we had a Volkswagen bus, and a child about to start high school. With that, and nothing more, we packed up and moved. We headed for Eugene, Oregon, where we had a handful of friends. One of them, a woman I had only met a few times, had rented us a duplex without us ever seeing it. Neither of us had jobs, and we moved in with only days to spare before our daughter’s first day of high school.

As I started my 50s we bought a house at the beach, intending for it to be a weekend place while we - inspired by "This Old House" and its descendants - made it over into our dream retirement home. Almost immediately I landed a job just two miles from that house. I left the job I'd held for nearly ten years, we quickly packed up and moved again, and we’ve been here ever since.

About that same time I sold my first novel, and launched a writing career.

Now I am embarking on what may be the biggest leap of all. Just a few months ago I retired from my job here, after more than 20 years, and became a full-time writer.

I had no idea then, and I still have no idea now, what lies ahead. Current events, especially the pandemic that is currently sweeping the globe, have destroyed all my carefully-crafted plans, and left me facing even more uncertainty than that day we landed in Eugene without any idea where we would live, or how we would support ourselves.

There are plenty of places to find retirement advice. There are entire organizations devoted to helping retirees enjoy the present and plan for the future. There are financial advisors, health professionals, mental and physical therapists, wellness gurus, life coaches, and community and senior centers overflowing with classes and workshops to help you fill every hour of the day. Boredom will never be an issue if they have any say in the matter.

The availability of help, especially in matters of health and finances, is a Good Thing. It always helps to have experts and professionals in our corner. A little guidance can save us from stumbling around in the dark and losing our way.

Still, this is a journey we all have to take, and for the most part we are our own guides. We have to, no, we get to choose the things that are important to us. Ultimately we make our own decisions, decisions that are informed by our own experiences and the experiences of the people around us.

We share those experiences as a way to try to shine a little light into the darkness ahead of us, to find a path that makes us happy, and to point out pitfalls and potholes to our traveling companions.

That’s what I’m here for, and I hope you are, too.

My choices, and my path, will always veer toward creativity. I hope yours will, too. And I hope you’ll share your path with us here.

Here’s to a long journey ahead!