Back again

Judy. This is our fourth return to Georgia since we left in the winter of 2017. Seems like a good time to make some observations.

1) It doesn’t feel as much like home anymore. Oh, nothing is better than spending time with the kids and grandkids.

An afternoon with the kids

FaceTime just isn’t enough for time with these folks, especially when the boys are growing and changing all the time. And time spent with old friends is a deep blessing.  But new construction is changing the faces of old haunts, and friends, close as they are, go on (as they should). Hiking along the Appalachian Trail, Ted commented that it’s no longer “our trail,” but a great trail to hike when we’re in Georgia.

2) Friends are still incredibly kind. It is humbling and gratifying to receive the kindnesses offered us--a spot in the mountains thanks to Sheila and Larry; a cottage behind the house of Susan and Kay. Doug and Carolyn offer their home for house sitting; Ralph and Sarah a bedroom in their home. Ritchie shares his home and friendship near the Marta station that will take us to the airport. Gary and Sally always have us over for dinner, and send a couple of home-bottled wines with us when we leave. In Florida, Anne and Bill take us in for a few days and recommend a good chiropractor. Rick and Micki share a meal and travel stories.The list goes on and on.

3) Ridiculously large portions are served at restaurants. Maybe this is why I see so many truly obese people. I’m not talking about overweight. I mean obese. And often sloppy. It just makes me sad. And if you don’t eat it all, there’s a lot of food waste.

4) It’s good to be back in the land of “yes, ma’am” and “yessir”. I know not everyone likes that—my mom didn’t, and I’ve heard people respond, “I’m not THAT old!” To me, it’s just plain respect. I say it to everyone, and did, years ago to all my high school students. And I love to hear it.

5) There are so many options in the stores! I seem to have gotten used to two or three choices, which makes life easier. Yesterday I stared at dozens of boxes of granola, trying to pick out which has the least amount of sugar.

6) When you don’t own a car but rent a lot, you get upgraded. It’s fun driving a BMW convertible. And sexy. But not good for hauling stuff to a garage sale. For that, you

have friends like Susan and Kay, who offer their truck.

Livin' it up!

7) Being back is exhausting. There are so many folks we want to see that we overcommit ourselves. If we don’t see you, it’s not because we don’t love you. There’s just not enough time.

8) I have the best talent agents in the world. When we left, they gave their blessing and said, “Let us know when you’re in the country, and we’ll see what we can do.” Every time we return, I get several auditions. Last year I got a great gig.

9) Staying in an Airbnb located in the basement of an old house, you will invariably hear footsteps well into the night, no matter how small the person upstairs is.

10) It’s still great to trade out clothes. I’ve always had too many, and now it’s to my advantage. I can only take so much on the road, so it’s fun to sort through what’s in the cedar chest, and find a whole new wardrobe for the month at home, then for the 3-month trip. Big savings, too.

11) Walmart probably has the best prices for the stuff we need to replace. And probably the most interesting people-watching opportunities in the world.

12) The professionals do their best to help us out. Doctors do their best to work us in; my chiropractor, Jared, makes sure I’m in good shape to head out again, and sends notes for the chiropractors I see in other countries. Michael and Roberta, our financial advisors, review our budgets, ask questions, and keep us on track so we CAN live our dream. Our support system is powerful.

13) With the craziness of downsizing and traveling, we didn’t register to vote at our Athens address in time for this primary. It’s frustrating. Lesson learned.

14) We have learned how little we need. Some of our favorite Airbnbs have been tiny. We carry photos of our grandsons and I have a small collection of shells, etc. that we put up everyplace we live, but somehow these small spaces become ours for the week, month, or several months we live there. It’s simple. And freeing.

In another few days we’re off again, this time to Atlantic Canada. Each time we leave, and each time we return, we learn more about ourselves and our world. Yep, the dream is still alive.

Hello again, Appalachians

Ted. The mountains of the southeastern US have a distinctive charm. 

They are not as rugged as the Alps of Europe or New Zealand, nor as tall as the Rockies. They don’t have glaciers or tundra. They are old, though. Really old. You can get a sense of it watching a tiny stream as it carves it’s way across solid granite. Trilliums have bloomed here every spring for millions of years.

Wild azaleas shout out in a dozen hues of orange for the benefit of the bees, not humans, who only arrived here a hundred thousand years ago.

On returning to Georgia, Judy and I always feel compelled to make a pilgrimage back to the hills we love. We have walked a bit of the Appalachian Trail every year for 34 years. Blood Mountain seems steeper and taller than it used to. Now, it is our turn to stand aside and let the thirty somethings race past us on the trail. We slowly wind our way down into Neels Gap just as that stream has for countless eons.