Things to DO
by
Dick Prosapio © 2005
The
word, "Retired" produces a picture in my minds eye. There's a guy,
doesn't look like me by the way, sitting in a wicker chair on a
screened-in porch and he is reaching for a cup on an end table next
to him. It's a late afternoon in the summer... nothing else is in
focus in this picture, and I don't have a clue on where it's coming
from or why I've created it this way but it certainly doesn't look
anything like my retirement.
So, image aside, what is "retirement" like here?
Well, it's not much sitting around and perhaps the fact that we
still have kids-at-home has something to do with that. The fact is,
though our kids are in their mid-teens and are not dangerous, they
do tend to do things that make us very cautious about leaving them
unsupervised for long periods off time. Bringing boys over,
"experimenting" with alcohol, just general teen ager "stuff" that
makes our leaving home for any period of time longer than, say, half
a day, problematical.
In fact, we just can't do it. So, either we don't
go, or we go with "baby-sitter" back up.
OK, so we are time limited in how long we can be
gone. But in addition, there seems to be so much "stuff" we have to
do every day and every week, that there just isn't much time left
over for what ever my fantasy of "retirement" is. The fact that we
don't have a well means we have to haul our water from a source
thirteen miles away once a week. We could contract with a commercial
water-hauler but that would cost us about $60 for a thousand gallons
or $120 a month. Whereas hauling it ourselves costs about twenty or
twenty-five a month. That's a fairly large hit on our limited
budget.
Right now Elizabeth is deeply involved in a fight
with BLM, a local miner and his financial backer over the
establishment of a rock quarry in our area. It's turning into a
twelve hour a day, seven day a week investment with tendrils
reaching into every area you can imagine; State government. County
government, environmental specialists, nearby neighbors, communities
along the sixty one mile length of what is called, "The Turquoise
Trail" which is the state highway along which the gravel trucks
would travel to the tune of one every eight minutes or so.etc., etc.
So, that takes a bite out of what's possible.
Then there's our contract with Children, Youth,
and Families Department of New Mexico, which requires us to be in
contact with Foster Care Families in our area on a weekly basis.
There's our once-a-month sweat lodge and Men's Group, Elizabeth's
belly dance and pilates classes, Selena's track practice and Honor's
dance class.
Elizabeth has art projects she is working on in
collaboration with other artists across the country in addition to
her own investment in getting a collection of her work ready for a
gallery showing.
And I write an article a week for a little
publication in Colorado.
Oh, did I mention the dogs and the cat?
Who IS that guy in the wicker chair anyway? Well,
he's the not-me in retirement I guess. And maybe I would never be
him even if all these little "events" weren't impinging on my daily
DO. But we do think of travel, like to B.C.,
Australia, Ireland. We could actually do that, though it would eat
into our meager savings, but there's the "time" thing, and that, I
know, seems to be running out fast.
On the other hand; so what? This is the life I'm
living and all-in-all, it's a good one whether I see the Taj Mahal
in person or not. I've rafted the Grand Canyon, and piloted a plane
over a lot of Red Rock country. I've taken the ferry to the San
Juans, and been busted on the Canadian border.
I've had the opportunity to be a good father.
And I found just the right woman to be with.
Yeah. The hell with the guy in the wicker chair.
What's happening now is just fine.
