what’s the matter with the word “die?”

“My uncle (a very slight pause, then softened voice, almost a whisper) passed.”

Or “passed away”, “passed on”, or “we lost him” or “he’s gone”.  If you listen to those terms, and take them at face value, you might wonder: “Passed”.  Passed what? – his driver’s test? “Passed on” – does that mean skipped, as in this round of promotions?    “He’s gone.”  Where’s he gone? – to the grocery store?

In our attempt to soften what is a tough life experience, I think we’ve gone overboard in the other direction.  Could we try to use the real words?  I will admit that the word “dead” has a heavy, ploppy sound.  But die, or death?  Are we working too hard to cover up the fact that life here ends?  Just as we work so hard to deny that we’re aging (nips and tucks, hair color…) it seems we deny that life ends.  In death.

Think about children, who are so very literal. “We lost my mother…” is terrifying. Why aren’t people hunting for her? If we “lost” Grandma, am I going to be lost, too? It’s hard enough to explain death to little children without using terms that just confuse the issue even more.

As we get older, sometimes we get better at actually calling things what they really are.  We don’t hide things anymore, we’re in favor of bringing things out into the open.  This is all very good.  But we still have a hard time with death.  The medical world still doesn’t like to talk about it.  Our families don’t want to talk about it, and for many reasons, we shy away from it ourselves.

However, it’s a fact of our life, and the more comfortable we can be with it, the more comfortable others can be. It takes courage to say it the first time, but it gets easier with practice. It might be that we are the ones that have to initiate the conversations, and use the correct terms.

When I die, please say so.  Connie died.  Her death occurred on…  She isn’t lost, she didn’t pass the truck while driving, she didn’t go somewhere.  She died.  And before we die, let’s talk about dying.  Let’s say – “when I die.” 

“even if I have pains..”

When we were young, if we had pain, there was a way to fix it. Take a pill, stretch, ice and heat, wait a week, or even surgery.  The result – sooner or later, we were all better and could go about our normal lives again. Thanks, Doc.

But sooner or later (and I know this is not just an aging issue….so many, many people reach this situation much earlier), the time comes when the good Doc says – “I can’t fix this. It will not get better. ” “It” might be scoliosis, scar tissue from old injuries, arthritis, fibromyalgia, degenerative back, spine, elbow or knee. The list is very long.

Wait, what? You can’t fix it? There must be something…

After the diagnosis of “it” happens, life changes.

First you’re mad. Mad at the doctor, mad at your wife, the universe, your job or the cat.  What do you mean, you can’t fix it? Why me? I was a good person all my life (!), why is this happening to me? What’s the matter with medicine that it can’t fix this? These reactions are illogical and we know it, but it is a natural first response.

Then there’s guilt. If I’d only…eaten right, exercised more, this wouldn’t have happened. Whatever. Even if you should have done those things – it’s too late change that now. Now you have to move forward. And mostly, as the good Doc will say – “we are like a car – we don’t have a choice about which part starts to wear out first.”

And then finally comes the understanding that this is the way it’s going to be. And here’s where the work begins.

We have a choice. We can adapt, or we can be like that dreaded person we all know. The one we avoid because the only topic of conversation is how their pain is today, the history of their pain, how the doctor said he’d never seen someone that bad, all given with that tone of voice. You know who I mean.

“I have learned that even if I have pains, I don’t have to be one.” Maya Angelou

There’s a fine balance to be reached with chronic pain between being real about the pain and being the crabby old person that no one wants to visit.

We have a right to whine…for 15 minutes. The pain is real, and those who care about us really mean it when they say, “how are you feeling?” You can tell who really cares vs. those who really don’t want to know, but feel they should ask. To the first person, you can be honest, to the second you say “I’m ducky,” or whatever other inane term you come up with.

“It” drains your energy. Being in constant pain drains you psychologically, emotionally and physically. Generally, the pain you are feeling isn’t obvious to the rest of the world. And chronic pain varies from day to day, so how do you nicely tell people today is not a good day and I have to cancel our plans and stay home? I’d like maybe a number scale, every day you just post a number to your world. I could wear it around my neck – it’s a 3 today. Or a 7.

Asking for help. Oh my – we are so stubborn and independent…and stupid! We must figure out a way to clearly and specifically tell those around us what we need. It doesn’t necessarily do any good to just say to your loved ones – I don’t feel good, or this is too much.

We have to figure out specifics – I can clean the upper kitchen cabinets, would you be willing to clean the lower ones? I can do the laundry, if you can clean the floors. I’m usually able to work for two hours in the morning, but then I lose my energy in the afternoon.

You can easily be consumed by the “it” that causes chronic pain.  The experts say it is important to psychologically separate yourself from the illness that causes the pain. I am not “it”. As those who have a disability taught us when they asked the world to switch from calling them “disabled persons” to “persons with a disability.” I am a person first, my chronic pain is second. I am not fibromyalgia, or scoliosis or arthritis.

Adapt. How can you do the things you need or love to do a different way? We need to take up the old fashioned barter system – I’ll clean your windows if you mow my lawn. Or find a teenager in the neighborhood to hire or bribe with chocolate chip cookies to help us.

And use the damn devices. Lose your pride. Use the cane. Buy a rider lawnmower, or a Roomba or a grabber picker-upper.

You have 15 minutes to whine. We’re all entitled. Then we need to move on.

“Tell me what you can do, not what you can’t do.” There is still so much more to life, even when it is hampered by pain.

I am not an expert on this subject. These are my thoughts and wisdom today. What is your chronic pain wisdom?

 

 

 

covid-19 observations

It’s May 25th, 2020, and we’re still at this “thing”. We, (the world) are so strong, we boast and pat ourselves on the back about the great advances we make, talk about impenetrability, “we’ve beaten the enemy,” “never again”….and we are laid low by a single invisible virus. Amazing, isn’t it? Humbling, isn’t it?

Each of us has a personal pandemic story, and the end is not written yet. Who, in March thought we’d be here, at the end of May, still at home, and the end of the story looking more muddled than ever.

For me, I personally know only one person who has had symptomatic COVID, and she recovered, thank God. My workplace closed their doors, and I am furloughed. My story is about learning to be content with limited social interaction, and instead of jumping into the fray, accepting that my most helpful job is to….stay home! Sigh.

So here are a few random observations about the pandemic and its effect on our lives.

Hair. You’ve got to be kidding me! Now I’ve always thought that it would be interesting to see what my hair would be like long-er. Well, this has been my involuntary chance to try. I now sport a completely different look. I had to buy clips and combs to keep it under control! The jury is still out as to whether I like it or not – but I’ve got plenty of time, evidently, before I need to make that decision! People are going gray, or shaving their heads, or letting their kids cut their hair. Now have you tried to cut your bangs looking in the mirror? How do those scissors go?

Misses. I missed the birth of my grandson, Jack. We all assumed I would be there. It was a shock to my heart when we realized there was no way I could be there.

Thankfully he arrived nicely without my assistance!! Thankfully a family friend, Kristen, was there to take care of Andrew at home. We will be forever grateful for her help.

I miss my beach. I miss my cube-mates at work, and the shift into a higher gear of mind, body and spirit when I walk into the office to add my piece to the collective mission of the agency. We miss breakfast at the Kopper Kettle, popping downtown to pick up some item and planning our next adventure or event.

Little Things Become Big. For those of us who don’t have school, children or jobs while this is happening, time is elongated. I’ve noticed that there is a new slower rhythm to my days. It took awhile to settle into it, but it’s not all bad! There are no big events on my calendar. Big things now are a Zoom call with my friends, a tele-health call with my doctor (man, we were efficient!), and grocery shopping – oh my word, there’s a whole “thing” with grocery shopping.

For the first part of this, my husband took on the duties that required actually being in proximity with people. I began to long for sightings of people, or places that were part of our previously normal life. So I went with him – going to the dump? – wait for me! Going grocery shopping? – we parked the car so I had the best view of the comings and goings in the parking lot! I sat, perfectly happy, watching the types of masks people wore, if any, how the store directed people traffic in and out, and if carts coming out had toilet paper on board.

The Sun. I can almost understand sun worshippers! Never has this ball of light had such a major impact on my life. If it’s there, life is good, and I am filled with optimism and the ability to laugh at our predicament. If it’s missing, my outlook can look as gray as the sky. On gray days I work to schedule my day more exactly, to give  a sense of accomplishment when checking off items on my list. Other times, I don’t do so well, and just plain long for the next peep of it.

Outdoors. Expand the love of the sun to the bigger outdoors. People commented early on – “Aren’t we glad we are heading into spring and summer vs. into winter?” Oh so true. The outdoors has become our release and the bright spot of our lives. Watching for the green to arrive, watching the birds return and seeing what survived the winter in our gardens.

I can’t walk the beach, but I can still find places to see the ocean. We have a robin’s nest under our deck and a phoebe’s nest inside a stored kayak.

Ageism. I’m still watching this. Interestingly enough, the country and world for years has heralded the increase in life expectancy. Look what science has done! Isn’t it wonderful that people can live longer lives? Until something like this happens. We are now a liability, and frankly, at times it seems, expendable. Will it be the elderly vs. the economy? Individual freedoms vs. the responsibility to care about others? Truly, what happened to the Golden Rule?

However. We hear the lurid stories of division and self-centeredness, until you begin to shake a little in your boots. Then you see and remember the other stories – one of my favorites was the little girl and her grandpa who lived across the street, meeting each evening on opposite sides of the street for a dance party. I love balcony operas…or pots and pans salutes, people making masks for others, the Wisconsin farmer who sent his single N95 mask to Governor Cuomo.

The Future. As our worlds open up, it’s clear that we are each going to have to take responsibility for our own opening up schedule. We will have to carefully consider our state or local schedule and weigh risks and responsibilities for ourselves. Just because the hair salons are open, should I be going to them? We have a responsibility to care for ourselves, so that others don’t have to. We have a responsibility to think outside our own bubble of self-centeredness and consider our impact on the rest of society.

I bet this will be different for every older person. Whether we like it or not, we are the cohort that is most at risk. It’s a bit unsettling. We’re tough, we will help – we always have. Now we have to admit that we have a certain vulnerability and it’s our responsibility to help by protecting ourselves.

Here’s one thing – our new experiences in life aren’t over yet, it seems. If anyone thought we’d be sitting on the porch in our rocking chairs for the rest of our lives, “enjoying” our retirement…well, how wrong that thought was. If nothing else, we’re making masks, learning to Zoom or Skype, make sourdough bread, plan virtual parties and learning to accurately visualize six feet of social distancing!

To the future!

 

 

 

 

it’s a snow day!

It’s a snow day! One of our delightful New England snowstorms that covers every tree twig, changing our normally dull gray landscape into a whole new world of wonder. My office is closed, the schools are closed, and for a few hours we can indulge in savoring this beauty before we have to shovel, snowblow, and with a bit of trepidation sally forth on slippery roads.

What do we do on a snow day? We put on the music, cook up a big breakfast, build up the fire and enjoy! Every window becomes a frame for another winter wonderland world, and I find myself aimlessly walking around my house, going from frame to frame, just to revel in the many worlds.

Later I’ll trudge out to the bird feeders to make sure my friends are as well fed as I am. I may grill dinner outside. There’s something adventurous about grilling in the middle of a snow storm! It tastes better!

And I’ll indulge in memories. Why? Because I can! It’s one of the delights of time.

Today snow days are announced on the scrolling banner at the bottom of our television screens or an alert comes to our phone.

In the olden days, we waited anxiously by the radio for the announcer to read the list of school closures alphabetically, or sometimes more immediate was the phone call from the neighbor or friend on our informal phone tree with the magic words – “no school today.”

Then began the process of outfitting all five of us with our outdoor gear. Snow pants, coats, hats, the struggle to find matching mittens, or at least one left and one right mitten, rubber boots with buckles, sometimes with plastic bags inside if they had sprung a leak. Then my mother would shoo us out the door, I’m sure hoping she had at least ten minutes of peace before someone was back at the door with wet mittens, wet feet or “I’m cold.”

We lived on a road that in the winter was closed beyond the last of the few houses before it went over the mountain. Everyone was well aware that our best sledding hill was the half mile stretch of road from the high end of the plow run, to the bottom of the hill. All drivers knew to watch for whizzing sleds, and the alarm would be yelled from one child to the next – “car coming.”

Our community was full of kids, and what one didn’t think of to try, another did. There are hair-raising memories of toboggan crashes and sledding under barbed wire fences in the dark.

There were snow forts and tunnels, and days when the snow crusted and you didn’t need a sled to sail down a field, and days when you saw “blue snow.” The best in the world was just lying back in a snowbank, feeling, hearing and smelling the silence of a snow world.

When you finally came home, your wet clothes went on huge racks in front of the stove, or over a register, and the whole house smelled of wet wool. My mother had hot chocolate ready for us, of course, and then we could settle in with a book for the rest of the day…or until someone had an urge to go back and sled some more.

Enjoy your snow day.

 

 

mud! I love mud!

There are jobs we need to fulfill when we age. Yup, work. It’s not all sunshine and roses, my friends. At one point, I wrote a whole series on the jobs of aging. Things like – Enjoy, Grow, Give and today’s topic, Have Fun.

Think back over your life, and all of society’s demands. Little kids are allowed to have fun, and we encourage it endlessly. However, when they walk through the hallowed walls of learning, society starts to squeeze it out of them. “You’re a big boy now”, or “Susie, act your age.”

From there, it just continues. We must look and act the part of a grown up professional, a career woman, a “grown-up.” There are lists and goals and guidelines and expectations. None of them seem to include chasing butterflies, stopping to smell the roses, eating dessert first…or splashing in mud puddles. Think how the neighbors would talk if they saw us out in a rainstorm splashing through the puddles, all by ourselves.

But one of the very special things about getting older is we are allowed to play again. Especially if we have grandchildren. We get to play with them, and no one will blink an eye.

Our job is to take advantage of this allowance. Even if we don’t have grandchildren – find some to borrow. They are society’s key to appropriateness!

I have been waiting for a very long time for the chance to splash in mud again. My grandson helped me do my job the other day. Mud, squishing between our toes, splish splashing through puddles. We splashed and laughed and sang Rick Charette’s “I Love Mud” very loudly: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GbCLHM1QpQ8

“Mud, mud, I love mud! I’m absolutely positively wild about mud. I can’t go around it, I’ve got to go through it, Beautiful, fabulous, super duper mud.”

All sorts of play. In winter we made snow angels and went sledding down the hills, yelling as loud as possible. I couldn’t wait to buy him a pail and shovel and make sand castles at the beach, or just fill the pail and dump it out and start again. With him I can chase fireflies, roll down hills, lie on our backs and watch the clouds go by and name their shapes. The other night, at storytime, three of us read stories to each other at the same time – who says books need to be read one at a time? There he was, with his mom on one side, grandma on the other and he in the middle, all reading a book out loud (very loud), with big grins on our faces!

Even without grandchildren, let’s play. What were the things that made you happy when you were a child? Coloring, banging on drums, making a mess in the kitchen, camping? Just think – they make adult coloring books, you can still learn to play the drums, make a mess in the kitchen trying a new recipe, and you can even go glamping! Do it, do it.

Let’s not be old and stuffy and set in our ways. Let’s open up to fun and becoming a child again. All those years we were stuffed into society’s boxes – now is the time to wonder and explore and laugh and be adventurous and make messes. When you feel an urge to do something fun, stop everything and give in to the urge. Grab your grandchildren, or your neighbors’, or an enlightened friend your age, and play again.

It’s your job.

 

 

 

rusty hinges

Talk about surprised by aging! They were right on when they said “use it or lose it!”. But did I really believe them? Evidently not. Did I once again think I was too cool to have stiffness and painful joints happen to me? Just because I knew the lingo, did I really think that would excuse me?

Why should I be surprised when I didn’t use it, I would lose it and discover that losing it can be very painful.

Aging experts, physical therapists, doctors, nurses, exercise specialists – they all tell us that as you age, if you don’t keep moving, if you don’t exercise those muscles and joints, you will get stiff and lose ability to move easily.

Also, if you don’t keep working to keep your muscle mass, that muscle mass will turn to fat.  So instead of strong, tight muscles to hold you up straight and help you lift yourself from your chair, they will weaken and stiffen and you start having a hard time getting up from that nice, soft comfortable chair.

Muscle strength is what also support your joints, keeping them from turning rusty!  You know the feeling.  If you haven’t moved them recently, they feel like they’ve rusted in place and you are no longer a well-oiled, flexible frame, but a solid, stiff block of cement that yells at you (pain) every time you try to flex.

I’m learning a very difficult lesson. A very painful lesson. In my teaching days, I would blithely say, “With modern medicine, you will probably live to be 85 to 90. Do you want to spend it dancing or in a wheelchair? The choice is yours.” Now, I hear my own voice echoing back to me.

Walk. Remember the 10,000 steps a day craze? It’s still a good goal. It’s good to stop and smell the roses and curl up in front of the fire and read a good book. But not for too long. Move. All kinds of moving. Flexibility. T’ai Chi. Yoga. Strength training. One of those stretching programs on the internet. Silver Sneakers. Swimming.

I’m heeding my body’s painful voice. Some physical therapy, water aerobics (great flexibility, strength training and aerobics all in one) lots and lots of stretching exercises to “unfreeze”, and making sure if I’m sitting to get up every 20 minutes and move about! It’s all part of my new body maintenance routine.

What about you? Were you “surprised” by stiffness and loss of muscle? What are you doing to stay well-oiled?

One of the best guides to balance, strength, flexing exercises that I’ve found is the National Institute on Aging’s Exercise & Physical Activity. You can order a free copy or download a copy or watch and join the exercises on YouTube.

Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg does planks in her routine. Can you?

 

Photo courtesy of J’Adore, Bath, Maine.

 

 

 

the wild and wondrous winter ocean

The ocean in winter is a wild and wondrous thing!

Every time you go, it has a new personality. Today it was glacial, the beach littered with ice blocks, mini-glaciers carried down the river and left stranded on the beach. Marvelous shapes and forms, and with the sun coming through the thickness, you could even see a bit of glacier blue.

It was also blowing a major gale, turning each tiny stick and blade of grass into a stunning sand sculpture.

The trick with beach walking is, if possible, to face the gale at the beginning of your walk, and then the return trip is like a sweet ending. If you had remembered to wear your superman cape, all you’d have to do would be lift your arms and you’d be skimming the beach, with absolutely no effort!

We haven’t been to the beach much lately as I caught the everlasting cold, and the weather has been terrribly unfriendly. It’s good to be back.

The beach in winter is a place for the intrepid, the dogwalkers, the horseriders, the birdwatchers, even the occasional surfers. We, the intrepid, own the beach in the winter.  It costs us to own it – it takes all our layers of clothes and a haughtiness that faces the howling wind and says, “we will not be beaten.”

My husband says the ocean is winter-cleaning the beach, similar to the old-fashioned spring-cleaning. It scours out ridges and pools and eats away at the sand dunes. Then it reforms it to its latest creative desire. Old sand bars are flattened and then are carefully sculpted into a new ones in new locations.

Of course there’s a scientific reason for all these changes – but I prefer to think of it as the ocean playing with design and preparing a whole new beach to surprise us with in the spring.

There are days when the ocean is dull and flat and steely gray, just like our winter blue spirits. There are times it seems just plain mad, maybe mad at the coast for being in its way. There are days it is clearly unfriendly, evidently not wanting us there. It will snatch your breath, bite your face and throw sand at you, until you say, “okay, okay, we get it, we’ll go home.”

Then there are days when it is crisp and bright and stunningly, icily beautiful. And once in awhile it plays with us, all of a sudden soft and sweet.

Winter in Maine in my opinion lasts way too long and blows too many icy gales. We plan our escapes, trying to carve days and weeks off the long haul.

But when we’re here, the ocean, in all its personalities, is our joy.

 

 

 

 

i’m having a hard time being thankful

Really.

Six degrees, six inches of snow on the ground and a howling wind. Happy Thanksgiving to us.

I think for the first time in my life, I have not greeted the first snowfall with at least a bit of anticipation of that miracle that is snow. Truly, there is nothing quite so breathtaking as a snowfall that covers every inch of the trees and bushes, making a snow lacework.

Nope. I’m whining, and complaining and grumbling. It’s too early, it’s too cold, that’s the last time I’ll see the ground until April? May? Who knows.

What’s different? It’s the cold. The cold seeps into my bones and I can’t get warm. I have to wear down mittens or my hands ache with cold. I dread stepping outside to that blast of winter.

This is why people choose to become snowbirds. Now I understand them. Winter used to be my favorite season. Now I’m already wishing it was time for a winter vacation way down south where it was guaranteed to be warm. And it’s only Thanksgiving.

But it is Thanksgiving. I have allowed myself five minutes of whining and complaining, and now it’s time to move on.

Today my husband and I are going out for Thanksgiving dinner. Someone else is worrying about the stuffing being too dry, or the pie pastry being too tough, making sure everything comes together at just the right moment.  Way down underneath, I’m glad that someone is not me!

I’ve loved making Thanksgiving dinners. We spend hours and days of preparation, and it takes about twenty minutes to consume! But I have always loved it. When our kids were very little, I spent all day preparing, and they ate mashed potato and rolls! Oh well.

We have so many Thanksgiving memories to look back at. When I was young, we had to wait dinner for the hunters to come back. It was agony. I remember weighing myself just before dinner and immediately after – and not being able to figure out why I hadn’t gained five pounds! In our family, there was the children’s table, simply because our house wasn’t big enough for everyone at the same table.

We’ve had dinners with 30 people, and dinners with two Cornish hens, one for me and one for my husband. The year we bought land in Maine to build our house, I packed a Thanksgiving picnic and we ate turkey salad sandwiches on our land, spending the day envisioning a new house and a new life.

The other thing I’m thankful for today is the longer, wider, deeper view of life and the world you get having lived so many years! Things that didn’t make sense or seemed to have no purpose when you’re in the middle of them, begin to show their meaning as time goes by. That, then, gives you hope that the things that you’re muddling through right now also have meaning and value, even though you can’t see it at the moment.

You don’t get that hope unless you’ve lived awhile.

You are also reminded of the good there is in the world. So many people doing good things. People choosing good and kind and honest and ethical. When the world looks ugly, we know to stop and focus on what is hopeful and just and kind.

We’ve seen so much good.

I’m thankful.

 

 

 

i just saved $676!

I saw your ears perk up!

How did I do that? I compared my current Medicare Part D prescription plan with others on the Medicare website, and found a plan that will save me $676 in 2019.

It’s Medicare Open Enrollment, and it’s our chance to check out and compare the 2019 Part D plans and see if we want to switch to another plan. It’s easy, my friends.

You can do it yourself by going to the Medicare site. I typed in “drug plan finder” in the search box on the home page and it took me to the right sub page. I used the generic search, which only asks for your zip code. Then you enter the drugs you take, and up will pop the plans that are in your area (26 for me). It will sort them by lowest retail price. It gives you the star rating of each plan, and if you click on any one of them it will give you the details of the plan. It will also tell you which pharmacy near you will get you the best price.

All of this specific to you, your location and your drugs.

Nifty.

I tried it myself at home, and then because I had not done it before, I made an appointment (no charge) with my local area agency on aging’s Medicare specialists and had them check my work. Sure enough, I was right. So then and there, I enrolled in my new plan, to begin January 1, and dis-enrolled from my old plan.

So why should there be such a difference from last year? Because each drug plan is a private company, not run by the government. They can add or remove drugs from their “formulary” each year, they can make a deal with a pharmacy to give better prices, and they can change the “tier” of any drug. (Last year one medication I take regularly went from a Tier One (generic, very cheap) to a Tier Four (not at all cheap!))

The plan I had last year was good, but now a competitive plan saves me $676 for 2019.

Here’s my message: don’t assume that nothing changes year to year.  Don’t assume that because you picked the best plan last year that it will be the cheapest and best this year. It might still be – but then again, it might not!

Here’s my other message: Open Enrollment lasts until December 7. After that, you’re locked into your drug plan until next year’s Open Enrollment. Do not delay.

If you are making an appointment with an area agency on aging Medicare specialist (these people are the best – they do not sell insurance, they are unbiased, they volunteer to do this work) – the appointments fill up fast. Even if you do it yourself on the Medicare website – the website slows to a rush hour dead crawl the closer you get to December 7.

Open Enrollment is also the time when you can change from original Medicare to a Medicare Advantage plan or vice versa, without penalty. If you’re unsure on that, call your local area agency on aging and get educated on the differences. Each person’s situation is different, so education is key.

15 minutes saved me $676. What can it save you?

 

 

 

road trip

We love road trips. When our family was young, road trips were a family value or ethic or at least a tradition. It might be an afternoon trip to see a town we had never driven through before. Or we would even do the trip where you come to a stop sign and someone would call out “Left,” and we would go left.

Sometimes we hauled our camper behind us for a multi-day trip. We had computerized lists for packing for those trips, and we could pack in record time if the mood struck!

Our kids had mom-made organizers that hung from the back of the front seat so each had their own entertainment in pockets right in front of them. Snacks, books, GI Joes, cassette tapes, and road games.

Now, when it’s just the two of us, the tradition continues.

We took a road trip to Aroostook County one Friday morning recently. Maine is a very large state, and how can you really know your state until you’ve been to “The County”?

People asked – “The County? Why are you going to The County? There’s nothing to see there except potatoes.”

But the potatoes (and broccoli and cauliflower) are grown on rolling hills, in open fields, with long horizons. People live in neat, spic and span houses, with very large, very neat, spic and span lawns. It is a beautiful countryside.

Potato harvest was just beginning, but the broccoli and cauliflower harvest was in full swing.

We stopped at a rest stop with a stunning view of Mt. Katahdin. It brought back memories of my climb up that mountain. And a huge sigh of relief that I don’t have to do it again!

We stayed in Fort Kent, right up at the tippy top of Maine, took our picture by the Route 1 Mile 1 marker, and had a delicious dinner at The Swamp Buck.

We explored the now decommissioned Loring Air Base, and its empty concrete bunkers, which during the Cold War contained nuclear weapons.

It was another great road trip in the history books, complete with a 10# bag of fresh Aroostook County potatoes.

But what is different, and better, now, is the freedom. We left on Friday…because we could. We came home on Sunday, because we felt like it. We could have stayed another day, but we were done. This untethered time has its own beauty.  Time to stop longer someplace, time to take a side road or two, time to turn Left instead of Right. Time to learn more, soak in more, and come home when we’re done.

To Road Trips!