Grateful

My sincere thanks to all of you who have taken the time to read my thoughts, both big and small. At the least, I hope you have enjoyed my posts. Maybe every now and then I've even given you something to think about.

For me, this blog is a hobby, an occasional teaching tool, and a bit of self indulgence, as I've always fancied myself a writer.

I know it seems like things are a little crazy right now. But, those of us of a certain age remember other times when we also weren't sure what the future held.

As kids and then teenagers, we lived through the assassinations of three beloved leaders; the brink of nuclear war with the Russians; a power outage that knocked out the East Coast (many feared it was the Russians); a very unpopular war that was killing thousands of American soldiers, and the first -- and so far only -- Presidential resignation.

If you're not sure what to do with that Amazon gift card you got as a present yesterday, consider purchasing The Soul of America by historian Jon Meecham. He's a great writer and in this book, he chronicles the many times during our history when we managed to overcome division and fear to more forward.

(If his name sounds familiar, he spoke at the funerals for President and Mrs. Bush and was very engaging.)

So, while there's a lot to be concerned about as we head into 2020, I sincerely hope that during this holiday season you can be as grateful as I am for the many blessings that we do have.

As food for thought, please check out this surprisingly motivational video from Steve Harvey.

Wishing you the best in 2020...

The Next Chapter

I've been surprised at how easy it has been to adjust to "retirement."

I've written before about how I "got retired" from a job that I truly enjoyed and hoped to still be working at today.

I honestly thought that I would have to be dragged kicking and screaming into this latest chapter of my  life. Right now, retirement for me is best defined as not working full time in the traditional sense.

I'm the associate in Mari Sennott and Associates, my wife's very successful real estate practice. I'm teaching part-time at a state university about 30 minutes off-Cape and continue to do the occasional organizational communications seminar at a large Rhode Island non-profit.

So, I haven't joined the daily round of golf and a nap crowd yet. But, I've settled into this somewhat non-regimented life style easier than I anticipated.

I'm sure one of the reasons is that I just don't have the energy I used to, which is hard to admit. It seems as if it wasn't that long ago I wouldn't shut off the TV until I saw Johnny Carson's and later Jay Leno's monologue.

Now with our granddaughter's 9:00pm bed time I'm quite comfortable turning in at that hour, too -- whether she's staying with us or not.

So, I can't tell you what goofy things Jimmy Fallon did last night.  And don't ask me about Saturday Night Live. Even if I stayed up, chances are I wouldn't know who the host or musical guest was. The latter is a little discouraging, as I promised a younger me that I would always be cool and keep up with the latest music and trends.

But what's been hardest about this newest phase of life is seeing Father Time catch up -- not only with those generations removed from me -- but friends much closer in age and shared experience.

My Mother's best friend -- the last person she wanted to see in addition to the priest before she died -- passed away herself a week or so ago. Mary was literally the last of a generation of friendships that began more than 50 years ago.

We learned last week of the passing of a good Attleboro friend and a loyal colleague of mine when we served together on the City Council in the 1980's. Tony and I lost touch over the years, but Mari and I have fond memories of spending time with him and his wife at countless political events; enjoying dinner and drinks at Jerimar's (Mari's Dad's restaurant), and having breakfast together on Saturday mornings, when we arrived to take control of the Dennisport cottage that we rented on successive weeks. (It was owned by our local State Rep., who was an ally and friend to Tony and me.)

Thirty one years ago Tony also assured Mari I was not as "old" as she thought I was and that I would be fun to date.

I don't think I ever thanked Tony for that vote of confidence...

...which is yet another reminder that when you reach a certain age, it's important to have all your affairs in order. Not just the legal stuff, but being sure that the things that need to be said are said to those who need to hear them.

Realtors Don't Like Us

It's ironic since we're in the business, but we're the kind of people realtors don't like.

We've lived in the same house for 25 years.

We probably should have moved about ten years ago when I was recruited for a job with an international energy firm that had its North American headquarters in Andover, MA, just a couple of miles from the New Hampshire border.

The commute was a bear, but Megs was a senior in high school, so moving wouldn't have been fair. I also traveled extensively, which would have left Mari alone in a new home, while trying to establish her real estate footprint in an unfamiliar area.

So, I rented the second bedroom of a basement condo in Chelmsford that was owned by the head of HR at an area software development company. Bill was from Pawtucket and had a similar ugly daily commute. He was on the road a lot too, so sometimes only one of us was there. Many weeks neither of us were.

We had a lot in common from our travels and big jobs at large corporations to talking about Rhode Island. So when we were both at "The Foxy," Bill and I spent the time swapping stories and eating the left overs that our wives sometimes packed for us. {The name of the condo complex was Fox Run hence the nickname, which has a special meaning if you're from Rhode Island.}

Mari and I almost moved about two years ago to one of the few Cape condo complexes on her "if we ever" list. But it didn't work out.

You need to understand, there's nothing remarkable about our home. It's your typical Cape style house: one bedroom down with two up and a bathroom on each floor. There's nothing Cape Cod-ish about our subdivision, either. It could be transplanted to almost anywhere and fit right in. There are no water views and while we're really close to ponds and beaches, none are within walking distance.

Our house sits in the middle of a 1/2 acre corner lot surrounded by trees giving the impression that we have roomy front and  back yards.  There's more than enough space when Mariana is over to play soccer and whiffle ball, as well as practice our chip shots.

Aside from the usual updates and repairs, the only major changes we've made to the house are the new kitchen that Mari did this year and outdoor shower that I've wanted since we arrived. Because we've decided to age in place -- that's the technical term for "we ain't goin' nowhere" --  there are vague plans to turn the first floor bedroom into a master suite.

The average American moves about 11 times. So, why haven't we?

When my parents would visit, my Dad often said that he enjoyed coming because our house was "comfortable." I think that description probably best sums up why we're still there after all these years. Our home is comfortable and at this point contains far too many memories to leave behind.

One of the folksy sayings realtors have when a house has been on the market longer than expected is that the home is "just waiting for its owner."

So, in the case of our little house, I guess that's us.