Out of Surgery. On the Mend.

I took Pam to the Pen Bay Hospital today at 8:00 am for her consultation with a wrist surgeon—a sentence you never plan on writing while on vacation. After an informative and comprehensive discussion of the facts of her accident of Tuesday the 26th, the decision was made to have surgery immediately…as in the next three hours immediately. This news gave us the time to go back to the camp and take Lucy for another bathroom walk. As instructed, I had her back at the surgery center at 11:20 am for all the preliminaries. They were about to wheel her back to the theatre around 1:15. I was told I had 3-4 hours to kill before she would be ready for me to take her home. I drove into Camden in a daze, never before having left her in the hands of a surgeon of any kind, one of life’s many blessings. Nevertheless, I was starving. Traffic in town was horrible since it was Friday, arrival day for the hundreds of tourists eager to see the leaves this time of year. I stayed on as many back streets as I could until I found a place to park, only to discover that there was an hour long wait at my go-to lunch place. I ended up settling for a bowl of chowder at Sea Dog, where Cappy’s used to be. On my way back to the hospital I realized that I was still hungry and I needed some coffee. Then I saw Bleecker and Greer just outside of Rockport, and since local places are always better than national chains, I pulled in and ordered this…

There are a million places like this up here, charming, cozy, and overpriced. This plain cup of drip coffee and a piece of something called Blueberry Ricotta cake set me back $12 bucks. On the other hand its nothing compared to what Pam’s medical bills will be. But right now, money is the last thing on my mind. I’ve probably checked the time on my watch at least a hundred times since I left the hospital. I hate that this has happened to Pam. She has been so very brave,  her Yankee resolve on full display. But I know her and I know how disappointed she is to be out of commission at her favorite place in the world. And because I know her so well, I know that she is probably thinking that she will end up being a burden to me and our guests. Complete and total hogwash, but that’s how she thinks.

Its funny how things work at a time like this. You’re going along without a care in the world then suddenly all your plans vaporize. Among the thousand things that race through your mind after seeing your wife’s wrist creepily askew is the fact that you need to get in touch with some people to let them know what’s happened. Who to call? For me it was a strange mix of family and friends. But it was a reminder of who really is important in your life.

Just about the time I was finishing up that pricey blueberry ricotta I got the call from the doctor. All was well. Pam came through beautifully. She was in recovery and I could come in to see her anytime. I swallowed down the last drop of coffee then made a beeline for the hospital. When I entered her recovery room her eyes were closed and I thought she was still asleep. When I bent over to whisper in her ear she mumbled, “best nap ever…” A few minutes later she went into considerable detail about the fact that her arm was not where it was supposed to be. Even though she could “see it” over there, she felt it way over here. No words of mine could change her mind on the subject so I let it go.

To see her laying there in the bed drifting in and out of coherence and completely vulnerable choked me up, so I quickly sat down in one of then chairs against the wall beside her bed. Then she suddenly announced that she had no idea why, but she felt like crying. So she did. The doctor assured me that everything went perfectly and that she would eventually make a complete recovery. I smiled at him, thanked him for his work and said, “Bless your heart.” He was very nice and professional. What he didn’t know was that had he botched the job I was fully prepared to kill him.

So, we are both back at camp prepared for anything. Up next is plenty of rest and medication to manage her pain and begin to heal. Paula and Ron arrive tomorrow afternoon. It will be nice for Pam to be surrounded by those who love her the most. At some point I will figure out a way to tow her around the lake in our spare kayak. Not sure how she will manage the cross-stitching thing. I may have to hold the frame for her while she stitches one-handed.

Putting the “Fall” Into Our Fall Vacation

Yesterday afternoon Pam and Lucy spent a couple of hours in the backyard on a delightful Fall day in Maine. Pam read a book while Lucy busied herself with finding sticks, mussel shells and rolling around in the grass. Everything felt like a scene from a Hallmark movie, right up until the moment when it didn’t.

These are the entrance steps to the cabin. The first time I saw them a few days ago when we arrived I remember thinking, “that’s odd, where is the third paving stone?”  To enter the house from the back yard you have to come around from the left of these steps. When doing so Pam caught her toe on the raised stone and went sprawling head first into the border stones of the flower bed to the right. The result wasn’t pretty. She somehow made it inside on her own power with an abrasion on her face, another on her chest and her left wrist at an unnatural angle. Even though she was in a lot of pain she somehow had the presence of mind to bark out a series of rational instructions…

1. “Call Tif and ask her for directions to the closest ER.”

2. “I’m going to need help getting out of this long sleeve shirt. They will want me in short sleeves if they have to put me in a cast.”

3. “Probably should go ahead and feed Lucy. We won’t be back in time for her dinner.”

4. “Can you fill up my water bottle?”

5. “How am I going to be able to paddle board and cross-stitch?” (Not in the resigned way of realizing that she would NOT be able to do these things, but rather in the rhetorical question style of How will I manage to do these things considering these new circumstances)

Meanwhile I’m getting queasier and queasier the more I look at the angle of her rapidly swelling wrist. Soon we were on our way to Pen Bay Medical Center where we would spend a little over three hours being expertly treated by a staff of the kindest, most attentive medical professionals you would ever want to encounter while on vacation. I watched my wife endure several extraordinarily painful procedures with a combination of patience and toughness that I could not have managed if my life depended on it. In this way she is exactly like her Dad. There’s something about the Maine in her—no drama, no foolishness. You just screw up some courage and get along with it. 

So, a summary of her condition. She did break her wrist. The doctors were able to stretch the wrist back into a more natural position (which was about as dreadful as it sounds). Then they fitted her with a temporary cast that she will wear for the next few days. We will call an ortho doctor at the hospital today to set an appointment for as soon as possible where he will take another look to determine if her wrist can be set and placed in a more permanent cast, or, whether she will need to have a surgical procedure to insert screws or pins. In the meantime, I am waiting on her every need and both of us are planning on making the most of the situation. We are also thankful that she did not suffer a concussion from the impact of her face on the stones. It could have been much worse. Of course it could have been much better too. It could have been me instead of her. In every way that would have been a better outcome.

When we finally made it home last night and got settled I took this picture…

How is it possible that she could be so beautiful after what she just endured? 

Sunny Pictures and Daughter Day Thoughts

Yesterday the wind blew in from the north. There were whitecaps on the lake. Although the temperature was in the 60’s it felt blustery to this southern boy. So we drove into Camden for blueberry pancakes at the Deli. Afterwards we stopped in the Smiling Cow, chatted with Meg and picked up some gifts for the kids back home. Pam got started on a new cross-stitching project while I was hard at work taking a mid-morning snoozle and an afternoon nipper-napper with Lucy. If this sounds to you like a boring uneventful day, then we can’t be friends. Today promises to be much more physically active. There will be fishing and kayaking. However, since it is currently 42 degrees, the aforementioned activity will have to wait. Yes. I am a thin-blooded southern wimp. Sue me.

I promised you sunny pictures of the place so here they are:

The view from the dock looking north.

The southern view.

The house and the lovely lawn.

The fire pit.

On to other matters. Ok, so last night I pulled up a social media account and was bombarded by photographs of …daughters. It seems that yesterday was National Daughters Day. The first thing that popped into my head was, says who? When did this happen? I don’t remember this actually being a thing. Was there a vote? I have nothing against daughters, mind you, its just that it felt a bit contrived and manipulative, probably a conspiracy cooked up by the greeting card companies—Big Sentiment. I will not be coerced into posting pictures of mine in this space. But I will offer a few words on their behalf. Kaitlin is about the finest human being I know, a brilliant teacher with a first rate mind and a heart full of compassion. She’s smart, witty and the best friend you could ever ask for. Sarah is my daughter-in-law who my son had the good sense to marry. She too is super smart and creative. She has the voice of an angel and makes the most beautiful charcuterie trays known to exist in the free world. Both of them are beautiful, accomplished women. But I don’t need a National Daughter Day to remind me of their worth.

We Made It

The trip took two days. Fourteen and a half hours. It was as uneventful as it could possibly be. When we arrived at Vacationland Lucy was ecstatic. Pam took a video of her excitement from which I captured this shot…

The girl is nine years old and still has hops!

Ok, so what’s this place like? It’s cloudy today so any pictures I take of the lake will not be representative of the beauty here. There is a big lawn that sweeps down a slope to the lake. We’ve never really had a lawn like this in Maine. Lucy loves it, a fence-less place for her to run free. At the edge of the lake is the fire pit, set on a ledge just a couple of feet from the water offering grand views up the lake. This place is almost at the extreme southern edge of Hobbs Pond…

Later today I will put the kayak in the water and paddle the circumference of the place to get my bearings. Pam will drive into Belfast on a grocery run. That’s what is known as the division of labor. In case any of you are thinking it unfair that Pam has to “work” while I am “playing” should remember that over the past two days I did 100% of the driving with zero speeding tickets, moving violations or fatal accidents.

The indoor accommodations are not what we have become accustomed to at Loon Landing and Summer Dreams. But in fairness, nothing could possibly be. Vacationland is much more what I would consider to be the average lake rental. The kitchen is equipped with “silverware” of unknown metallic origin. It kinda feels like metal but bends when you spread peanut butter onto an English muffin. In addition, there is no dishwasher on the premises, leaving us to ponder the cleanliness level of every plate, pan and utensil. All kitchen equipment seems to have been selected from the rejects of the home kitchen of the owner of the place. But, everything else is perfectly fine and acceptable. Our bed is king size and comfortable, the bathroom works perfectly. At the very top end of the positive ledger is this delightful weather forecast…

I cannot wait for those 46 degree mornings.

Tomorrow I will share photographs of the place in glorious sunshine.

October 4, 2023

I remember it like it was yesterday. I sat across a desk from the loan officer at F&M bank in Ashland with my Dad next to me. The dour banker stared down at me, Potter-like, over his bifocals as I signed my name on the papers. It was my very first loan, $5,000, enough to cover tuition and books for one semester at the University of Richmond. Dad was there to co-sign the loan since I was just a student with a part time job. I remember the strange confluence of emotions that accompanied the transaction, that giddy feeling of being a grownup along with nausea at the prospect that I might miss a payment and wind up in jail. I even remember the amount of the payment—$136.00 a month.

Not long after that came more college loans from the Charles B. Keesee Fund, then my first car loan for a two year old VW Scirocco. One year after getting married Pam and I bought our first house for $87,500. Our interest rate was a cool 13.75% and the $900 payment felt terrifying. There would be many more car loans, mortgages and home equity loans to get my kids through college, plus a business loan to purchase an office condo. Somehow I managed to avoid debtors prison.

But in a mere 15 days on October 4th, 2023, while in Maine, I will make my very last mortgage payment. It will be the first time I have been totally debt-free since I was 19 years old. 

It will be a time of celebration but also nostalgia. All of those loans. Hard to believe. I never took out a single loan for anything that I have regretted. Educating my kids—best money I ever spent. Buying my home—great decision. Even buying that hideous cranberry-colored minivan back in the day—a necessity with two kids.

Being debt-free will be great but it will also feel a bit weird. I have spent all of my life under the heavy weight of financial obligation. To a very large degree it has been my single most powerful motivator. It has driven me to succeed since failure to live up to those obligations would have been catastrophic for my family and my reputation. It simply was not an option. I’m wondering what it will feel like to live without the weight. Maybe it will diminish my drive. Perhaps I will flounder without financial urgency. Maybe I will start looking for some new place to spend money.

Wait. I know.

I need grandchildren.

Vacationland

The excitement is starting to build for our next Maine adventure. We leave this Friday morning for our as yet unnamed Fall trip of 2023. There are a couple of things about this upcoming vacation which make it unique. First of all, we will be staying at a new camp on a lake we haven’t been on since 2016. The name of the place is Vacationland and it's on Hobbs Pond. It features a really big back yard that slopes down to the water along with a fire pit right on the edge of the lake…

The observant reader will have no doubt noticed that the gas grill on the expansive back deck features 5 burner elements. Also, I’m loving that two seater swing down at the water’s edge. This lake is closer to Camden than almost every other place we’ve stayed, only a 15 minute drive. The closest general store is in the town of Hope just a few minutes down the road.

The second thing that makes this trip unique is that for one of the three weeks my sister Linda and her husband Bill will be with us, along with Paula and Ron. Bill and Linda have never been to Maine so we get to be their tour guides for the week. Nothing makes us happier than introducing people we love to this amazing place.

Wait…what does this place look like on the inside? Almost forgot…

Yeah, I’m thinking we will be happy here.

Pick Your Poison

Pam and I wanted to try a new restaurant that had popped up on the ever expanding complex of shops and stores that have metastasized on Broad Street, west of Short Pump. Wood and Iron, its called. As we drove out there Pam asked this question, “Why are they constantly building more buildings out here when there are so many empty spaces in the buildings that are already here?” This is what is known as a rhetorical question and it is unanswerable. First off, the word they in her question is instructive, referring as it does to the faceless, nameless developer behind each new project that carves itself into the landscape. My only answer was something like, “Why, indeed?”

When Pam and I first moved to Short Pump, there wasn’t much out here. Thirty nine years ago there was Short Pump Elementary School, that auto repair shop with the crashed airplane lodged in its roof and a couple of general stores. Now, its a mass of retail stores, strip malls, restaurants and gas stations. And that crashed airplane was finally laid to rest several years ago. But the question remains…why has there been such an explosion of construction. Well, this is what commerce does, it expands. Some will call it progress. Some will laud the convenience of having practically everything you could ever want or need within ten minutes of your house. This is true. Convenience is convenient. But in the new era of online shopping, I can buy virtually everything offered by every store in greater Short Pump from the comfort of my sofa—buck naked. Aside from the horrible mental picture I just painted for you, it does make Pam’s question all the more relevant.

So, I decided to test an hypothesis that has been brewing in the fertile soil of my warped imagination which is—despite the endless choices offered to me in Short Pump for shopping, eating and entertainment, which buildings do I actually patronize? How many of the 2000 stores and shops have I ever actually entered, and how often do I do so? With the handy assistance of my credit card statements over the past few months, here is what I have found for the time period between August 15th and September 15th:

Publix in Short Pump Village—13 visits

Various restaurants—12 visits

CVS, corner of Cox and Broad—4

Sunoco gas, corner of Three Chopt and Church—4

Lowe’s—2

That’s it, the sum total of institutions that I have visited more than once in the past 30 days. There were a few other places where either Pam or I visited just once:

Jiffy Lube

Flagstop Carwash

Cutz for Guys

Staples

Dog Crazy Groomers

Judging by this list, Pam and I are most interested in…food. We spend most of our time and money either buying groceries to make food, or going to places where they cook it for us. In this way I don’t think we are different than most people. Of course the above lists only include places where there is evidence that we spent money. Obviously there are other places we go frequently and spend no money:

Hope Church—8 visits

Hope Thrift store—three visits

My office—20 visits

So, the question remains, why the endless construction and expansion of choices? Pam and I might not be good examples but the answer is because its what the people want. Developers don’t spend their money unless they can do so for a handsome profit. Businesses don’t expand unless there is substantial evidence that such expansion will be profitable. If you are one of those people constantly decrying urban sprawl and complaining that there are no more beautiful fields in Short Pump filled with grazing cattle, I would suggest that you stop buying stuff. Oh, and don’t complain if you have to wait an hour and a half for a table at your favorite restaurant after the board of supervisors changes the zoning laws to prohibit new construction.

Or, if you’re really fed up with all the convenience/congestion of Short Pump, move out to Fluvanna County or Louisa. I hear there’s virtually no congestion and you have to drive twenty minutes to pick up a prescription. 

Pick your poison.

One Seat. No Waiting.

A camp came up for sale on a lake we love in the Mid-Coast area yesterday. Pam sent me the link apparently because she hates me. It was a very tiny, run down, dilapidated shack measuring 250 square feet. It featured this bathroom…

What’s the asking price, you say? $390,000. But at least we wouldn’t have to scrub the toilets.

Yeah, so…we are never gonna find a place to buy. That’s ok though. At least the places we rent have indoor plumbing.

On a side note, I woke up this morning with a headache for the fourth consecutive day. The previous three days it went away after a cup of coffee. Not so today.

On a second side note, my wife is the hardest working woman in Short Pump. For the past three weeks or so she has been juggling chainsaws like an ace. First, she has spent countless hours working on stuff for the Home Owners Association of our neighborhood. Along with that comes her job of creating wedding invitations for a dear friend of ours, a job that requires long hours on artsy websites doing God knows what late into the night. Then yesterday she went into school to start setting up her classroom for her job as an interventionist at an elementary school. She is a phenom and the best thing about it is…she has no idea that she is a phenom. If you know her…you know.

Grateful

Every morning when I open my iPad there’s a picture displayed from the vast archive of photographs stored in its memory. This morning it was this one…

I took it in late September of 2017. It might have been on our first extended Fall trip to Maine. Pam is standing on the deck at Loon Landing in the late afternoon preparing to cook dinner. In so many ways this is quintessential Maine-Pam. There she is in her red flannel shirt, wearing slippers and an apron, head tilted to one side with a fist on her hip—the way she does when I annoy her by taking her picture. The sun is beginning to set, its light becoming powerful as it shines across the water bathing the house in yellow. There is no railing on the deck to block the magnificent view, just beautifully manicured flower boxes along the edge. Every year the boxes are different, Carolyn May’s creativity and imagination on display.

The reason this photograph is so special is that it captures something important. This is my wife at rest and at peace. There isn’t even a shadow of worry on her face, just a contented and playful smile. There is no place on earth she would rather be, nothing she would rather be doing. I get to do this for her twice a year now. Of all the investments I have made in my life, there is none that produce returns as beautiful and valuable than this.

It is said that modern humans know the price of everything and the value of nothing. In most cases its true. But not this. The value of these experiences far outstrip whatever it cost ten fold. In eleven more days we will do it again. We are so grateful.

What Is Retirement?

I am in, for the lack of a more precise definition, the retirement business. I have spent the last 41 years helping people invest their money so that one day they could afford to retire. Since I am now in my middle 60’s, so are the majority of my clients. Therefore lots of them have retired. I have not, and the question of when and how this will happen is still very much undecided. But I have had a front row seat watching people retire and observing the results. It has been a fascinating experience, one that has caused me to ponder foundational questions like—What is retirement?

In the history of civilization retirement is a very new phenomenon. For centuries our ancestors knew nothing of the concept. People worked from the time they were children until they literally couldn’t get out of bed in the morning. Most people didn’t live long enough to reach the golden age of 65. Like leisure, which wasn’t even a word until 100 years ago, retirement only came around as a concept in the last 75 years or so. The dirty little actuarial secret about the creation of Social Security under FDR was the salient point that the life span of the average worker back then made the prospect of the government having to fork out a retirement check to a worker for 15-20 years nearly impossible. It never occurred to the designers of Social Security that the program could possible go broke because of the mind boggling advances in science and medicine that would greatly extend the average human life. The assumption was that workers would pay in to the system for a few decades then die before they ever collected a dime in retirement, while the survivor benefits paid to the spouse would last just a few short years. You will find no references to the concept of retirement in the histories of antiquity. There is nothing about it in the Bible. Yet, in the year 2023 it is on the lips of practically every business news channel commentator. Entire magazines are devoted to it, not to mention the fact that AARP is the single most powerful lobby group in the country. But this post is not about the business of retirement or a discussion of the actuarial facts upon which it is based. I want to discuss what actually happens to people when they retire. What are the emotional and psychological benefits and deficits involved? I have literally seen it all.

I have seen some people come alive in retirement. They flourish free from the constraints and pressures of work. They discover new passions and revisit old ones. Some travel, others devote time to their hobbies, still others become happily immersed in the lives of their grandchildren. Many of these “flourishers” become professional volunteers, spending their new free time at hospitals, food banks and churches. It sounds exhausting, but they seem to love their new lives.

But others have a different experience. Faced with loads of free time they become adrift. The first six months of their retirement is spent doing all the home projects they had put off for years, or they go on that trip they had always wanted to go on but didn’t have the time. But after that they wake up to the reality that there isn’t really a driving reason to wake up in the morning, no purpose or cause that requires their participation and talents, a form of depression sets in like a mild layer of fog on the lake every morning. The good news is that many of these folks eventually snap out of their funk. With the encouragement of others they realize that they need to develop a plan for their lives post-career. Some of them take jobs at hardware stores or grocery stores part time as a way to stay busy and meet new people. Others become part time consultants in their old industries for a few hours a week. Still others find new interests and pursue them with vigor.

But for others, retirement is a disorienting and debilitating experience. Stripped of their work, these folks find it difficult to find purpose. They no longer feel a part of anything important. For them what starts as a mild depression becomes more like despair. They become withdrawn from old friends and family. Inevitably—they get sick. Even people who had always been healthy and robust—get sick. At this point I should probably say that in my observations, it doesn’t seem to make much difference how comfortable or well off people are in their retirement when it comes to which outcome they experience. I’ve seen extremely wealthy people fall into despair and people on very tight budgets flourish and vice versa.

All of this analysis is what I have observed watching nearly 70 different people from every background imaginable enter their retirement years. It makes me ask myself this question—Which will I be? Will I be one who flourishes or the one who falls into despair? What about you? My answer is a guarded one. I do believe that everyone thinking about retirement needs to have a plan—not just the financial kind, but rather an emotional one. You should be able to answer this question…What is the thing that will energize me every day to get out of bed? What will your daily schedule be? What will be on your agenda each day of the week? What will be your to-do list goals? Yes…you will need a to-do list. Why? Because we were not created for sloth. Rest, like any other good thing, is only beneficial in moderation.

One more observation, if I may. This is purely a matter of opinion and preference but—don’t go to one of those “communities” that cater to only people of a certain age. Make sure you have a healthy relationship with people much younger than you. Your attitudes and disposition eventually reflect what is around you. You spend too much time around old people you will become much older much quicker. Find some young couples with children to love. Pour yourself and your talents into helping and supporting those exhausted parents around you in the midst of raising their kids in this crazy confusing world. After all—that was you not so long ago. Those kids need your love and advice, the wisdom of your experience. I can think of nothing more fulfilling than being in the encouragement business. Its hard to be that person if you’re walled off in a retirement community surrounded by a bunch of geezers.

It has been a humbling experience watching people retire. I like to think that I will flourish when its my turn. But I’ve seen enough people who were better than me struggle mightily. Knowing the right thing to do is not the same as doing the right thing. It takes courage and intentionality to craft a good life in retirement. It isn’t for the feint of heart.

The Groomers

Ever since we returned from Maine a month ago life has felt chaotic. There was a medical procedure and the accompanying health concerns. At work it seems like a game of whack-a-mole, new business to write and dear, long time clients passing away, plus all the playing catch-up that comes with taking six weeks off. The next two weeks will be even more hectic, as we try to get everything done in time to go back for our Fall trip. In case you are beginning to become annoyed—I am not complaining. However chaotic life becomes as a result of two trips to Maine in one year, I’ll take it.

One of the things we do to prepare for Maine is taking Lucy to the groomers. The rest of the year, Lucy’s grooming needs are taken care of in-house. But if you’re staying in someone else’s cabin for weeks on end, you want your Pup to have as little excess hair as possible along with short and smoothly ground nails. I will not tell you how much this grooming costs because I would be irretrievably embarrassed. Be that as it may, it had to be done. 

Usually, the groomers tie a doggie bandanna around her neck—to help assuage the shock of the bill they just handed you. But this time there was no bandanna. Instead, there was this:

They put bows in her hair right behind her ears. We can’t decide if she likes them, is embarrassed by them or clueless of their existence. But Pam has decided that with the price we paid these people, the bows are staying in until they fall off. We will get our money’s worth.

In other news…I am in the process of closing down The Tempest on Blogger and recreating it on Wordpress. Patrick is helping me with the nuts and bolts of the process and I am doing a terrible job of following up because of the aforementioned chaos, however it will eventually get done. So very soon, The Tempest will have a completely new look and feel, but unfortunately the same insipid content!!