Surprise!

 The year started off in a dark place for me. The passing of my friend John and the aftermath of emotion, is still rumbling under the surface of my daily routine. 

Then the sun peaked through a little last week when I adopted a new kitten. It's been a rough start for her. She has a post operative infection from her spay procedure and contracted a virus at the clinic that she subsequently passed to Buster. They are both recovering and Penny's true personality is starting to show as she heals and continues to get used to her new surroundings.    

 

Last Friday afternoon, the curtains flew open and the sun shined bright again! We came home in the early afternoon from our shifts working for the park to find our oldest sitting on the patio with his wife and two of their kids!  They had road tripped all the way from Iowa to the Rio Grande Valley to surprise us and spend the weekend. We were both absolutely speechless and of course I started crying like I do anytime an emotion good or bad overwhelms me. 

The weekend was filled with showing them a short list of RGV attractions. The two grandsons don't have passports so a trip to Santa Ana Wildlife Refuge and a walk on the trail took us to the banks of the Rio Grande River. The closest we could get them to Mexico. 

Taking in the DonWes Flea Market

Derek at the Rio Grande

Randy and Amber at the Rio Grande

Champ and Caleb at the Rio Grande

On the trail at Santa Ana

Kids on a suspension bridge taken from the Hawk viewing tower

Champ Rockin' the Sombraro

On the second day we took them over to Boca Chica Beach to check out the Space X facility and beach area. Then it was off to SPI. The boys were experiencing the beach and ocean for the first time. It was too bad that it isn't warm enough this time of year to get in but we walked on the beach and waded a bit. I just stood back took lots of pictures and watched with a smile on my face and a warm fuzzy feeling in my heart. I love watching people experience something for the first time and I was still so happy I felt like I was going to burst. 

Beach time in the winter is always kind of weird. Some people like Derek and I will go out barefoot. Others leave their shoes or boots on. The air is warm but the water is cold this time of year. It's not your typical beach day, but then again sand dunes and cool water beat the hell out of snowdrifts and ice any day! 

We finished Sunday with Fajita's at our place and some pool and hot tub time.  I remember being an Iowa kid in south Texas at my Grandpa's place in McAllen swimming in December. It seems like yesterday even though it was 50 years ago. Watching the grandkids swim that evening brought back many memories of my own winter visits here to see my Grandfather. 

Monday was low key. We revisited one of the beach shops so the boys could buy some more items to take back home to siblings and friends, grabbed some pizza late in the afternoon and before we knew it our 3-day whirlwind was winding down and they were pulling away to make the long road trip back home to Iowa and back to their jobs and routines. 

And... they are off! 

We sat on the patio after they left still marveling at it all. I love a good surprise and this one definitely put itself solidly in first place of surprises. Most of the time the ones that come out of left field are bad things. It was nice to be on the receiving end of the kind of surprise that takes your breath away, but in a good way.  It was also the perfect event to jolt the dark energy that started off the new year back onto a positive hopeful trajectory. We will never forget the joy we both felt finding them lounging on our patio that afternoon and the memories we made over the next three days. 

Until Next Time...

 

In Memoriam "The Great John Harrington"

 The bonds of friendship forged between work campers run deep.  It is a different kind of bond than that of lifelong friends, or neighbors who you become good friends with. It is even different than co-workers in my traditional jobs that I have become good friends with. When work campers come together and work and live together for months or weeks at a time, every now and then the bond endures. It is the kind of bond that exists with long absences. Instead of seeing each other every week or so or at family gatherings or parties, we see each other a couple of times a year if we are lucky but the bond allows us to pick right up where we left off at our last encounter, whether that last encounter was two months at a job, or 2 hours at lunch when our paths intersect during our travels. It is something only the full-time work camper can understand, and it is wonderful. 

I write today grieving for a friend who lost her husband and soulmate, I grieve at the loss of a good friend to Champ and I. Today I write to heal and remember my friend John.

John in true form. Enjoy a good craft beer with us in Austin 2017

 

John and Cathy were the first volunteers we met on our first work camping job. We connected immediately and have remained close ever since. 

I remember the first time he said Palliative Care. It was late summer; I was talking to John on the phone. They had been in Texas for a couple of months and he was rattling off a list of upcoming appointments that Cathy had arranged. His new Primary Care Dr., Physical Therapy, Palliative Care, Oncologist. He kept talking but I don't remember what he said because I was still trying to grasp Palliative Care. He was pronounced Cancer free just a few weeks ago. 

The words hit me in the way a large bug, or small rock hits me in the face when I'm riding the motorcycle. It is quick, stinging and fleeting. I pondered his casual way of slipping it into the phone conversation for days. 

When we spoke again a couple of weeks later, I asked him why he was going to see a Palliative Care doctor and he said it was to talk about the future and options for later. Again, very matter of fact and casual, but that is how John approached his entire journey with Pancreatic Cancer. Matter of fact. He faced his disease with a positive attitude and calm demeanor.  It was at that moment I realized my dear friend was going to leave us one day and my friend Cathy was going to know the pain of losing the love of her life and I cried for them both after I hung up the phone. 

That was last fall before we came back to Texas for the winter. It is January and his journey ended on Thursday the 12th. Two days after his 68th Birthday. I spent last week honored to be by Cathy's side at their home all week as we both helped John leave this life as peacefully and painlessly as possible. Hospice nurses stopped in a couple of times during the seven days but the day to day, hour to hour job was up to Cathy. She helped John, and I helped her. It was a journey like no other. One she knew she would take with John but would never be ready for. Pancreatic Cancer is merciless. 

John was larger than life at times. He moved through the world with confidence and skill. John was the kind of friend who introduced a new friend to his old friends and wanted to meet his new friends' friends.

He had the heart of a Conservationist and walked the talk. He and Cathy spent many good retirement years volunteering at Wildlife Refuges around the country, leaving everywhere they worked better than they found it. He gave freely of his time and talents and was eager to share his knowledge. His mark can be seen in nearly a dozen different refuges where he and Cathy worked, served on Friends Boards and Volunteered at events. 

John in his element. Listening for birds on one our birdwalks together

John and Cathy were a dynamic couple together. Their different skill sets and personalities complimented each other. He would say often "All our friends are welcome in our home" He was the epitome of the phrase "Mi Casa es su Casa" That's the kind of couple they were and why so many are grieving this week along with Cathy. They would often be the driving force behind Volunteer gatherings, and day off leisure time spent together. 

John was a knowledgeable birder and was always eager to share his passion with anyone interested. That is where my friendship with him began. He led my first guided group bird walk. Later he and I spent a morning together early in our friendship walking the trails at Balcones Canyonlands NWR searching for the Endangered Golden Cheek Warbler. He wanted me to see it first with him. We found them and I took some memorable photos.

 All the while he was teaching me, pointing out different calls and teaching me not only how to find birds, but what to look for when I did find them. He loved to share this and manifested his passion by leading birding tours at the Refuges. His bird walks were well attended and at Festivals he was a popular guide. One person asked once if The Great John Harrington's group still had space. For me, the name stuck. I called him that until his last day. 

I especially loved the two times they visited us in Iowa at our summer work camping gig at Saylorville Lake. We birded on my home turf and he taught me even more. It was fun to watch him bird in an unfamiliar area and he told me how much he like the area. He even entertained doing a summer with us there working for the lake, but it wasn't meant to be. 

I think about all the people we know because of John and Cathy. I also think about our other friends who we have bonded with through our work camping lifestyle and realize it truly is a family. We love each other like family, kid each other like family and will ultimately grieve for each other like family. 

To quantify someone like John one only needs one word, "Giving". He was a generous and caring husband to Cathy, friend to many and good neighbor to all who lived near him. He thrived on helping others. He was our friend and we will forever miss him. When I have birded without him, I hear his voice reminding me of different things. I will never have his six-foot human form walking through the woods with me ever again, but I will have the sound of his voice and his spirit with me always. He truly was a Great Man and a Great Friend.

I sat at his bedside in his final hours talking to him. When I went into his room during the night to check on him that last night I was saying my final goodbyes to him alone in the room with a hallway light filtering in so I could see to put drop in his eyes and swab his dry mouth. I knew it was coming and soon. That was my last moment alone with him around 2:30 am. Before I went back to bed I uttered the words "Until Next Time" and kissed him on the forehead.  I have said those words so many times to many others but that night the words felt heavy with emotion knowing that "next time" will not be planned and will be in a place that only John can comprehend now. John passed away very peacefully a few hours later in Cathy's arms. It was beautiful and heartbreaking all at once. 

Cathy, Champ and I decided to take his scope and she provided us with his binoculars. We set out from their house after breakfast on Saturday morning. Our maiden voyage to the bird trails without him.  It was a challenge to identify some things without him there to help us, but we found many species and called on his spirit to guide us. We talked about John and quipped about what he may have said as we agonized over a gull that we couldn't figure out. We laughed and remembered him as we birded. Then, at the end of the trail as we were headed back to the car, we were talking about him when a Male Northern Cardinal landed in a short scrubby bare tree just feet away and at eye level. It looked straight at Cathy, and we all stopped and knew it was him. I think he was happy and the three of us healed a small bit more in that moment.

Winter 2020 pre cancer days. Birding on a cold beach and having a great time! 

In the days and months ahead we will grieve, laugh and all learn to accept that he left us too soon. We will support Cathy and our friendship with her will grow even stronger. We will always remember and share the stories about him and he will live on in the hearts of many. I am privileged to be one of those many. 

I will miss you my friend! 

"There is no death, only a change of worlds"   Chief Seattle

John Harrington  1955 - 2023

Until Next Time...

Escaping The Black Hole

We have heard it several times. 

"We're going to stay home this winter, to take care of ...."  With only one exception in our experience, the fellow full-timer who uttered that phrase, never moved their rig again. It can happen without realizing it is going to happen. 

We uttered that same phrase in the fall of 2021. For a number of reasons, we just felt we needed to be present in Iowa. It helped that our daughter and son-in-law very generously offered us housing, so we didn't have to ride out an Iowa winter in the RV. We knew we were in danger of falling into that black hole that develops around people who need to take a break, but we did it, none the less. 

I quit blogging and looking back, I realize it was the perfect time to be sharing my thoughts about what was happening. The reality is we settled into a routine of living in a household with our daughter's busy family and two grade school aged grandsons. We were there for Christmas with all the kids and saw friends we normally wouldn't see in the winter. I took a job serving in one of our favorite restaurants, conveniently located 5 minutes from 'home' and met new friends there that are now in my heart forever. It was a mild winter, by Iowa standards and we had a chance to be present with the family and take a much-needed break from the Full -time lifestyle. My daughter mentioned one night early in the winter, that maybe we should just plan to 'take a break' every five years or so. 

Sledding with the Grandkids

I have to admit, the Black Hole that sucks many from the full-time lifestyle did taunt us.

Winter passed.  We savored every minute of our 18 months in Iowa. But, along about September we were both itching to get away and migrate south.

We arranged to return to Llano Grande, where we were work camping the year Covid happened during the winter of 2019/2020. 

Flash forward... and we are back at Llano Grande. We are spending time with good friends in the RGV (Rio Grande Valley to you gringos) 

As I write tonight, I am full of emotions I can't quite process. I have written over the years about our first friends from this lifestyle, John and Cathy. 16 months ago, John was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer and has undergone surgery and treatments associated with an aggressive disease. We chose to come here to be close to them.  In our minds we couldn't be anywhere else. We have grown close to them over the years and feel as close to them as we do people we have known for decades. It is the connection that RV volunteers forge that is only understood by those of us who are in that lifestyle They have travelled to Iowa and met our friends and family. Our Iowa peeps ask about them all the time because they have met them, had dinner with them with us and socialized with them when they have visited Iowa.

Just like last winter, when we stayed in Iowa, tonight I know we are where we are supposed to be this winter. We will work for the park the hours we need to barter for our site. I secured a serving job to keep me busy and give me the extra money that I like. Most of all, we are here to support John and Cathy in any way they need us.  My emotions are all over the place. 

Breakfast ride with the Llano group

We have hooked up with the motorcycle club here and gone on one ride with them. It's a good group and we look forward to riding with them through the winter. I have the State Park right next door with good birding whenever I need to take a break from the world. If that doesn't do the job, Texas is a plethora of wide-open lonely roads. A long motorcycle ride is always good for the soul. Here in the park, we are back in the company of work campers we met and liked from last time. We are far from Iowa but very much in our second home with winter family. 

Simply put, we know we are where we are supposed to be right now. We don't know what lies ahead for our dear friend. For that matter, none of us knows what tomorrow will bring. We wake up each day with hope and a loose plan for our future and greet each day as the blessing that it is. 

Until Next Time....

It's Good To Be Home

It's So Good To Be Home.  I look at this oil painting my daughter and her husband painted together one evening, several years ago. It hangs on the wall in their workout room. It is often a focal point when I am doing my yoga balance work and it is in my line of vision when I am on my back doing floor work. I've seen it in their home for years but this winter, especially today, resonated deep within me. 

When my brother-in-law got the devastating diagnosis of small cell lung cancer last summer the scenario, we have always talked about moved to our foreminds. That is the scenario of what would keep us home in Iowa during the winter. Our daughter was quick to tell us that they had talked as a family and offered to make space for us in their home if we decided to stay. The summer went along, treatments were endured by Steve and other bad news came into our lives. A good friend from our RV life in Colorado also receiving a cancer diagnosis, followed by aggressive treatment. Others in our lives experiencing decline in their senior years. 

Champ sensed my angst and 5 days before our planned departure opened up the dialogue with me about staying here. As we talked it became apparent, the thought of having to stay and made me want to stay. It's hard to explain, but I believe all full timers go through this occasionally. Some push the feelings down, some come off the road for a period of time and in our case, we decided to take a break. 

We talked to Kelsy and JP, they talked with the kids, and it was decided we would stay this winter.

I found a job serving 3 nights a week in a restaurant nearby that I love to dine at. The money is good, and the crew is professional. I'm basking in the opportunity to spend time with the kids through the holiday season. We are present for things that we have missed over the past 6 years. 

Today I have a rare day alone in the house. The kids are in school, Kelsy and Jp went to work, and Champ went up to the farm to do a small project in the motorhome that is easier done when it is vacant, as it is now. 

Steve is responding well to treatments these days; John is in Colorado fighting the good fight and we are close enough we have thought semi seriously about taking a road trip out to see them when he is strong enough. Kelsy and I have a weekend trip planned to Milwaukee next weekend to take in the Van Gogh Immersive Exhibit and we were able to spend Hunter's 10th birthday celebrations with him in person instead of a video call. I have spent more time with my sister the past months than I have in the last several years combined. Many other 'firsts in several years' are on the horizon. 

We are missing some superficial things, like warm weather, the long-anticipated job with the refuge in the Keys and our planned motorcycle riding in the Smokey Mountains this fall.  But those things will be there next winter unless the oceans rise suddenly, and the Keys become the new Atlantis. I jest but the fact is none of us knows what tomorrow, let alone next winter will bring. I am starting to look at options for next winter and where we may plan to go. 

It happened this morning. I was near the end of my yoga practice. Liquid Mind blared from the JBL speaker in the corner of the room, and I was completely immersed in my practice. My mind was, well liquid, so to speak. I opened my eyes and found my line if vision cast directly on the canvas. Home is a fluid state for us, but Iowa represents home, our kids represent home. As I released a long exhale, I felt the most complete sense of calm looking at those words." It's So Good To Be Home" 

Until Next Time...

Staying Put

 

 

Yesterday the day brought steady rain and 46 degrees. My least favorite brand of weather, and I’m from Iowa!  I will take snow and below freezing temperatures any day over ice water falling from the sky. For the past 5 years ice water rain has signaled one of two things. It is time to hit the southbound ramp of the Interstate, or we came home too early. This year as I look out the window at the miserable day, I have to tell myself, the worst is yet to come.

The number one rule of living a full time RV lifestyle is flexibility and adaptability. Okay that’s two rules. The past two months have revealed a number of ‘signs’ that we needed to think seriously about our plans to go to Florida this winter.

After a lot of hand wringing and considerable over thinking on my part, Champ and I had a long talk one evening a couple of weeks ago and agreed we ‘could’ go south but we shouldn’t this year. Our daughter Kelsy had offered us quarters in her finished basement several weeks ago when the writing began to appear on the wall. We took her up on her offer and pulled the plug on our long-anticipated winter plans to go to south Florida.

Once the decision was made the stress began to leave my body and I started sleeping at night again. A sure sign that we made the right decision. I was quite touched when many of our RV friends around the country began to call and text to be sure we were okay. Facebook posts being what they are my revelation in my news feed left out all the details. It was nice to know that our vagabond friends are thinking about us as much as we think about them.

Buster in Texas  2017

Now my mind is focused on all the good things that will come from being home. We will be in our daughter’s home with two of our grade school aged grandsons. We will watch kids big and small blow out their birthday candles in person rather than on our phone screens. There are friends whose birthdays we normally miss that we will get to celebrate with. Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years will all be celebrated in jeans and sweaters with likely frightful weather outside instead of on our RV pad patio in shorts and t-shirts with Citronella torches burning. And we definitely won’t hear the sound of crickets chirping as we walk or drive around looking at Christmas light displays.

In the meantime, we have rebooked our Anniversary cruise that was scuttled by the ever present ‘C’ word. You know which one. (Hint- it isn’t cancer) I have found a job serving in one of my favorite restaurants, conveniently located just about a 5-minute drive from my daughter’s house. Champ will eventually have a list of little projects either at our daughter’s place or my friend’s house or here at the farm helping Randy this winter.

Speaking of my friend, one of the toughest things to figure out was what to do with my beloved Buster. 18 lbs. of lovable yet timid tabby cat. Kelsy has 2 adult cats and a Husky. All very nice animals, but my poor Buster is so used to a quiet, almost boring existence with us. I had to laugh when I realized we are the ‘old people’ that some cats live with. My good friend, whose house is as quiet as mine has agreed to foster him in her home with her cat.

Buster soaking up some love from Joyce in his winter home

Today we will introduce him to her home and her cat Penelope. He will be stressed but not as much as being introduced to 2 new cats and a dog. We will spend the weekend packing and for the first time since owning the motorhome, winterize it. We are so thankful to have the opportunity we do. We have known many who have remained in Iowa in their RV’s and fought freezing water lines and all the other misery of trying to stay in an RV in the winter in a cold climate. We are very fortunate.

I am absolutely sure that as the winter goes along things will unfold that will affirm our decision to stay present here. After a year hiatus from a southern climate, I’m sure we will be more than ready to get back into our routine next winter. But for now, we are in Iowa and happy about it.

Until Next Time

 

The Melancholy of Late Summer

It is September 2nd. On this day Champ’s oldest grandson turns 30. We all remember turning 30 ourselves, assuming one has passed that benchmark and remember how old we felt. Time zooms by then, suddenly, your grandkids are that old. Summer is the same way. The season flies by so quickly each year. Our summer was filled with a steady stream of grandkids visiting, a weekend motorcycle trip that covered 700 miles and two memorable vacations. The first with the kids and their families in June and most recently our long-anticipated trip to Maine to spend time with friends we met in Florida three winters ago and get a personalized tour of their home state.

The view from Burwell's Deck

The Maine Coast from Acadia National  Park

Champ and I with our friends and hosts Chuck and Julie

 Today was my day to mourn the passing of yet another summer season. I have done it each year as long as I can remember. It is the day I clean out the garden. For 5 summers, it has involved taking down the container garden on my pad at Saylorville Lake. This year it is once again a vegetable garden in the ground, here at our son’s place where we have made a summer home. In past years my late summer feelings have been a blend of relief that the extreme heat and humidity have passed, joy of the upcoming fall season and the warm earthy colors that go along with it and the dread of the winter coming. These days that ladder of those emotions is the dread of leaving the kids for the winter. 

 The weather was perfect. 70 degrees and cloudy. Jeans and a t-shirt allowed the hard work of cleaning out plants and taking down fencing to whiz by without really breaking a sweat. It was downright pleasant outside today for physical work. I filled a 5-gallon bucket with the last of the tomatoes, peppers and zucchini musing about who I would give them to and thought about the upcoming winter. My mind was buzzing with the familiar excitement of going to a warm climate and the anticipation of a job we have had lined up for a couple of years on the Keys. Both thoughts were interwoven with the sadness of missing winter birthdays, Christmas and going several months having to settle for face time and being deprived of hugs and the smell of a grandchild’s hair when they lean into me.

 Today like everyday the past 5 weeks all of my thoughts are laced with the angst of worry about my brother-in-law and a good friend who are both in the thick of a war with cancer. Even my therapeutic yard work provided no escape from those thoughts. 

 As I pulled the giant tomato plants from the ground and cut down the 12’ tall sunflower stalks I smile at the miracle that is watching a garden grow. A tiny seed in May turns into a giant plant capable of producing more food than we can eat ourselves in a matter of weeks. It never ceases to amaze me. I think that is the gardener nerd in me.

All ready for fall tilling

Fall flowers tall and beautiful

 My summer job is winding down in perfect time for all the fall activities and preparations to fly south with the birds. My work schedule at the Produce Market has settled down from 30-35 hours a week to 10-15. Like the mild weather the schedule is a relief. As I look out over the cleared garden plot, I am imagining next year already. The tilled area will be a little larger and the variety of vegetables will be a little different. I am getting ready to dive into the fall planting of grass seed and two new pollinator areas that will lie under the winter bed of snow and germinate while we are gone.

 For now, I  am taking a deep cleansing breath this afternoon, to prepare my mind and my heart for how quickly the next 7 weeks will slip away.

Until next time…

When Your Vision Becomes Reality

 

The decision to end our tenure with Saylorville Lake was a tough one. We love so many things about the place.  Afterall, it is where we met 20 years ago and where our story began. We loved all our years camping there and would never trade a second of the four summer seasons we lived and volunteered there.

It’s nice when a vision comes to life and that is what has happened this summer. Many discussions with our oldest son last year led to us building a full-service pad on his acreage 40 miles north of Des Moines. A nephew dug the septic field for us and our other son ran the service for our 50-amp pedestal. The concrete was already here. But the infrastructure was just the bare bones of our vision. The real vision was being more connected to the family in the northern counties and an opportunity to spend more time with grandkids who previously looked on us like virtual strangers. They now come in the motorhome and know where to find a juice box and snack rather than having to be reminded of who we are the 1 or 2 times a summer we see them.  The kids in the southern counties have more contact with their north Iowa relatives because of our location and the grade school aged cousins are becoming quick friends.

Part of my butterfly gardens getting established

I stumbled into an awesome part time job, just 4 miles away working for a local produce / flower/ Iowa produce market. The owner and his family are incredible and the local clientele are sprinkled with old neighbors and acquaintances that make the average workday feel like old home day. It is Iowa nice in its true form.

The weather has been perfect for motorcycle seat time. We took a weekend trip with a group of people, most of whom Champ has known for decades and some new friends made last year on a similar trip. We covered a little over 700 miles of Southern Iowa towns and made a lot of great memories as often happens on such trips. I ride my bike to work most days and evening rides are frequent.

Champ and I on the last day of the June trip

A stop on a day ride with the kids

The coolest thing for us this summer is, our daughter and family entered the RV world by purchasing their first camper. We have camped with the one time so far and are looking forward to another weekend soon.  

Kids at a picnic table. Pretty normal in our world

Kelsy and JP 1st Camping trip with their new camper

We basked in our bubble of joy until about 4 weeks ago. There are sobering reminders of how fragile this life is and how vulnerable full time RV’rs are to what goes on inside our bodies.  Within 4 weeks, we lost one our cats who succumbed to old age. We feel fortunate that we are here and had a place to bury her.  The next day we received news that my brother-in-law has an aggressive form of Lung Cancer. He is currently undergoing chemo and radiation to the extent his body can tolerate it. A few days ago, we got word from a couple in our RV life that we have become close friends with over the years, that he has Pancreatic Cancer.  Another RV friend is being treated for Cancer that has come back in another part of his body. My Father is declining because of Lewy Body Dementia as well.  Suddenly, our plans for the winter are tentative. There are times when one must draw a line between choosing what we want to do and being separated for a time from our friends and family to do it and knowing that you need to set those desires aside and be present to those who need you.

Annie's grave site along the fence line where she liked to lay

Champ on the right supporting Steve while he goes through chemo and radiation

We are looking forward to our trip to Maine in a couple of weeks. Each day we look for the joy in our lives. Watching the young kids play together, watching the butterflies and bumblebees cover my pollinator habits that are growing bring me great joy. Knowing we made the right decision to come to our son’s property for the summers bring us all joy. Amidst the trials that life has handed to people around us, who we love deeply, we will do what our hearts tell us to do in the coming months. Like most of RV life the plan is fluid.

Until next time…