Things always look brighter when the weather starts to turn, and it is absolutely delicious out here this morning. It may climb up to around 90 by this afternoon, but right now it's closer to 60, and I am loving it - feels like fall! August seems to last forever in Houston, and September is even worse. By then the rest of the country is getting a break in temperatures, but there the nighttime lows are still in the 80's. However, here on the porch it feels just luscious, and my mood barometer has swung back to its usual Little-Mary-Sunshine position.
I've been thinking about our good friends Jack and Alma - the first ones I ever met who were actually living the good life - my role models. I never realized until now just how much our lives have paralleled one another. I met John when I first got to college, at the ripe old age of seventeen. I had barely been outside of Texas when he married me and whisked me off to live in Indonesia. I believe Jack was just out of college himself when he met his young Cajun sweetheart at a dance in Houma, Louisiana, and carried her off to travel the world. Like us, they had a daughter first, then a son, and the kids became quite adaptable, moving every couple of years as their fathers worked their way up the corporate ladder. The kids became adolescents, and Alma and I both learned what it was like to be part-time single parents, as our husbands had to spend more and more time traveling overseas. I would imagine we both spent a lot of time day-dreaming about the day when all of that would finally change.
When Jack and Alma were in their mid-50's, Jack took early retirement, and they moved to the countryside outside of Lafayette to build their dream-house. Jack returned to his Iowa farm-boy roots by planting a huge garden, and kept Alma supplied with wonderful fresh produce to use in her fabulous Cajun cooking. Alma returned to her roots by joining up with a group of ladies who met weekly to practice their French - the language of their forebears. They both became very active in their church and in the small community of Sunset, and were part of the instigating force behind getting a local lending library off the ground. Jack accepted the occasional odd consulting job at first, but when it started to feel as if he was back to working full-time, he finally decided to retire for real.
They had twenty wonderful years in Sunset, but when they were in their mid-seventies, after one too many hurricanes had swept through Louisiana and left them a huge mess to clean up, they decided it had become too much for them to handle at this point in their lives. Selling the place just about broke their hearts, and the move almost gave Alma a nervous breakdown, but they made the transition amazingly well. They now have a beautiful home in the heart of Lafayette, much closer to old pals and activities, and have become friends with everyone in their new neighborhood. Jack still has a beautiful garden, they both volunteer and attend an exercise class, and they are the healthiest, most active octogenarians I've ever come across, still traveling from one end of the country to the other to visit friends and family, and to take the occasional Elder Hostel trip. My idols.
If you had asked me five or six years ago, when John had to undergo angioplasty two years in a row, I wouldn't have given you two cents for the odds that we would ever make it to Wimberley. I was convinced that I would be widowed young, and that I would be stuck in the suburbs forever. However, since buying this place, John has passed all of his stress tests with flying colors. If I can just get him retired from his angst-laden career and moved up here, I think his health will improve even more. I see no reason why we can't expect a good ten or fifteen years together here, which is a hell of a lot longer than we've ever lived anywhere else, and I am determined not to waste another minute of it worrying about "What if?" When it finally becomes too much for us, then I can only pray that we will handle the transition half as beautifully as Jack and Alma did.
I've been thinking about our good friends Jack and Alma - the first ones I ever met who were actually living the good life - my role models. I never realized until now just how much our lives have paralleled one another. I met John when I first got to college, at the ripe old age of seventeen. I had barely been outside of Texas when he married me and whisked me off to live in Indonesia. I believe Jack was just out of college himself when he met his young Cajun sweetheart at a dance in Houma, Louisiana, and carried her off to travel the world. Like us, they had a daughter first, then a son, and the kids became quite adaptable, moving every couple of years as their fathers worked their way up the corporate ladder. The kids became adolescents, and Alma and I both learned what it was like to be part-time single parents, as our husbands had to spend more and more time traveling overseas. I would imagine we both spent a lot of time day-dreaming about the day when all of that would finally change.
When Jack and Alma were in their mid-50's, Jack took early retirement, and they moved to the countryside outside of Lafayette to build their dream-house. Jack returned to his Iowa farm-boy roots by planting a huge garden, and kept Alma supplied with wonderful fresh produce to use in her fabulous Cajun cooking. Alma returned to her roots by joining up with a group of ladies who met weekly to practice their French - the language of their forebears. They both became very active in their church and in the small community of Sunset, and were part of the instigating force behind getting a local lending library off the ground. Jack accepted the occasional odd consulting job at first, but when it started to feel as if he was back to working full-time, he finally decided to retire for real.
They had twenty wonderful years in Sunset, but when they were in their mid-seventies, after one too many hurricanes had swept through Louisiana and left them a huge mess to clean up, they decided it had become too much for them to handle at this point in their lives. Selling the place just about broke their hearts, and the move almost gave Alma a nervous breakdown, but they made the transition amazingly well. They now have a beautiful home in the heart of Lafayette, much closer to old pals and activities, and have become friends with everyone in their new neighborhood. Jack still has a beautiful garden, they both volunteer and attend an exercise class, and they are the healthiest, most active octogenarians I've ever come across, still traveling from one end of the country to the other to visit friends and family, and to take the occasional Elder Hostel trip. My idols.
If you had asked me five or six years ago, when John had to undergo angioplasty two years in a row, I wouldn't have given you two cents for the odds that we would ever make it to Wimberley. I was convinced that I would be widowed young, and that I would be stuck in the suburbs forever. However, since buying this place, John has passed all of his stress tests with flying colors. If I can just get him retired from his angst-laden career and moved up here, I think his health will improve even more. I see no reason why we can't expect a good ten or fifteen years together here, which is a hell of a lot longer than we've ever lived anywhere else, and I am determined not to waste another minute of it worrying about "What if?" When it finally becomes too much for us, then I can only pray that we will handle the transition half as beautifully as Jack and Alma did.
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