Tag Archives: travel

April 1

Retired. Retired is a term that applies to people of a certain age. The elders in our family range from 86 to ninety, so they do not think of themselves as retired, nor would anyone think to inquire. Their project is to have as much fun as possible.

Since I never worked in the corporate world, and my only full time position was as a parent, retirement crept up on me. Retired from what, exactly?

I had several careers, which I may dissect at a later date. But today I am here to remark upon my somewhat new status. I have not responded to the last two requests to work as a tutor of English for our local school district. The hourly fee is fair enough, but engaging with guidance counselors is generally painful. I found it to be so in high school, and though there are exceptions, I find it so today. In addition to corresponding with counselors, the school tutor must correspond with teachers, parents, and school administrators. Interacting with the students themselves is often delightful and rewarding. But being paid one hour for every four or five worked is unrewarding, and even a bit offensive. I suggested free lessons at our public library to a neighbor I was tutoring in ESL. Tutoring ESL to an adult involved intercultural exchange of ideas, and I do wish we had continued.

But I am so busy! No, I am neither a grandparent, nor am I a frequent world traveler. So how do I keep so busy and largely satisfied with my own company during the days?

Read on, tomorrow!

Sketch by Circe

The Return or Re-Entry

The Return

Re-Entry Innocence:
Re-entry begins innocently at rest stop.
Waterford, Vermont HS Girls’ Soccer Bake Sale.
I buy cookies. Homemade.
Still in Vermont, small maple leaf-shaped bottles of syrup on display.

Music: mystery mixes in CD player.
Guess that child. Sublime with Sublime.

Games with GPS:
Can I force it to show a route
Over the Tapanzee, not the GW?*
Success of sorts, after half an hour
Aimlessly recalculating, avoiding streets.

Pit Stop Rediscovery:
Gas for car; Red Bull for driver.
Passenger is not so bored as antsy.
Notes 2 for 1 price on Red Bull.
Asks Big Man checker whether Red Bull gets rid of cellulite.
(Nope, still don’t have much, but figure
Stretch marks are TMI & not going anywhere!)
An insomniac & he doesn’t get it
right away.
Behind me, short, cheerful man with shiny, fringed pate does.
He wants some Red Bull, too
If it will grow his hair back.
Big Man catches on, laughs.
“People complain about the price of gas. Look what this stuff costs.”
I pay.
“Take the Tapanzee, not the GW.
And get home safely.”
Seriously into solitude,
I rediscover that most people mean well.

Road Sign Reconsideration:
Writing the moment the CT exit sign for
Newtown looms overhead, I reconsider.
It takes a village to raise a child?
What made him kill babies?
Was he murdering his own past?
His motives are of little import now.
Only prevention of future
Slaughter of the Innocents.

Resignation:
The empty refrigerator awaits;
Piles of wash will whirl and whoosh;
Accumulated mail is more menacing;
Work to lend structure and meaning
(As did my morning swim.)

Reluctance and Rejoicing:
Hiker son left behind in North Woods;
Rapid motion son awaits our return.
Fine, awaits the return of the bike rack. Borrowed car already packed for
Outer Banks trip commencing at 3am
Mom has fewer ulterior motives!

Resolution:
Don’t leave inner barefoot, pond-paddling, wildflower-picking child behind!

This [Middle Class] American Life? (My pseudo-installment to the venerable NPR Radio Show.)

Do you recognize yourself? Do you have any re-entry rites and rituals to share? (Online bill pay is not a satisfactory response! 😉

*The driver was not engaged in “games with GPS.” GPS ultimately wins: We plummet off Tapanzee while making a U-turn for GW.

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