The joy of community

After being raised in a tiny 2-stoplight town in Ohio (where I knew almost everyone), I spent 37 years of my life in a major metropolitan area--in and around Washington, D.C. For 32 of those years, I lived in a small, older family-owned apartment complex in Alexandria, Virginia. In 32 years, I never had a neighbor who invited me into their home, nor did I invite any of them into mine. In my last number of years there, there were two older ladies--one next door and one across the street--who were pretty much the only people who spoke to me. I only knew my next door neighbor's name because I regularly got her mail.

When I would go out walking in my complex, I would smile and say hello or good morning to everyone I passed. Many people didn't even acknowledge me much less return my greeting or smile at me. This angered me. I thought--what is so hard about just smiling or saying hello? Why would you NOT? I never understood it and, while I enjoyed the area, it made me sad not to feel a sense of community in a place where I had spent more than 3 decades of my life.

Last year, I retired and moved to a small beach town on the Eastern Shore. My best friends had lived there for 20 years and I had visited regularly over the years. I called it my home away from home. During the years when my job and its attendant stress were taking a toll on me, this town and my friends' home was my escape and asylum from the madness.

I now live in a small condo community. Thus far (we are a new community), it is an all-adult community and predominately over 50, with perhaps 35% full-timers and 65% weekenders. For the first 6 months or so I lived here, I was the only full-timer in my building and only 1 of 3 or so full-timers in the entire community. There were moments when I thought "Here we go again." and wondered if I would ever feel the sense of community that I had hoped for; but, as more units sold, I got more neighbors--mostly weekenders but some more full-timers too.

Not quite 1 1/2 years after moving here, I finally feel that sense of community that I had craved. I love my neighbors! They are such wonderful people. I adopted a puppy last fall and the community has turned into a major "dog town." I have met most of the community before they even moved in, thanks to walking my VERY cute dog and living near the sales office. :)

I'm involved, via volunteering, with animal welfare, childhood literacy, human welfare and the over 50 population, which further gives me that sense of community--of being OF and doing FOR--and I am the happiest I have been in many, many years. When I walk my dog in this development and the next development over, people wave. Some come over to talk to me and pet Missy. I am meeting new people all the time. My dog has her community of pup pals too. :)

Change was a long time comin' as the song says...but it was well worth the wait.

The joy of retirement

Two weeks from today (on May 31), I will celebrate the first anniversary of the day I retired. I spent 37 years working for the Federal Government--the last 10 or so years in a very busy and stressful job. I hadn't planned to retire until I maxed out (i.e., until I had a high enough combination of years worked and age that my pension was as high as it was going to get, which would be another few years) but, as it turned out, I didn't make it that far.

In late 2006, I wasn't sure I was even mentally ready to retire (though I wouldn't qualify until late 2008 anyway). Shortly before my boss Frank's departure that fall, I asked him how he felt about his retirement and shared my concerns about whether I was ready to do the same. He said "Once you start to seriously think about retirement, you start leaning in that direction--and once you start leaning, it's hard to stop." By that point in my career, I knew exactly what he meant. It was one thing to be wistful and envious as many of our coworkers said their goodbyes, but to really seriously start fantasizing about being retired meant trouble.

Despite his warning, that is exactly what I did. I started to lean. I don't know if it was intentional or not. I still didn't know whether I was ready to go, but staying was starting to be a much less desirable prospect than going. In the spring of 2007, both of my staff members left for other jobs within months of one another. I held down the fort alone for several months, until we were able to hire one replacement. During this time, I got terribly sick. I was off work for two entire weeks. Well, it is more accurate to say that I was out of the office for two weeks, because I was still running things via email and phone from home.

Not too long after I returned to work, I had my mid-year performance evaluation with my new boss. I told him that those two weeks had given me a lot of time to think, and that one of the things I was thinking about was retiring as soon as I qualified (October 2008, when I would turn 55). As was my custom, I went to the beach for the week of my birthday. I drove from one condo development to the next for days trying to find my retirement home. On the day after my birthday, I bought a condo (some birthday present, eh?).

I came back to work and broke the news--I bought a condo at the beach...I can't afford to live and pay mortgage/rent and bills in both places...so I need to retire. We worked out a deal--I would move to the beach and telecommute all but one day a week, when I would drive back to the DC area and spend one day in the office. I moved to the beach on January 20, 2008, and drove back to DC once a week for 4 months, retiring as of May 31.

It is almost unbelievable to me that it has been a year--I guess this is what they mean when they say "time flies when you're having fun"! It has been a wonderful year. I am SO loving my home and living at the beach...I've kept myself busy with volunteer work and decorating and furnishing my home...and I adopted a puppy in October.

I thought I would have a tough time adapting--going from a Type A harried work life 10 1/2 hours a day to being retired--but, to my surprise, I had absolutely no problem adapting! Sure, I miss the people, but I don't miss feeling like a wound-up top every day; and I CERTAINLY don't miss traffic in the Washington, DC area, which sets new records for insanity every year.

I have a great home, wonderful neighbors, I am being of service to my community and I have the cutest dog in town (who makes me laugh every day). What's not to like?

So, if it feels right, go ahead and lean. I did, and I have never regretted it for a single minute.

The joy of flight

Yesterday, I was sitting here--in my home office, on the PC--when this strange noise arose outside my window. As it got louder, I realized what it was. I looked out my window and smiled, as what seemed like hundreds of snow geese winged right over me, honking up a storm. A few minutes later, another phalanx (my word--not sure it is apropos for a gaggle of snow geese) flew over.

It appears that I am on the flight path! One could, I suppose, consider such cacophony a nuisance, but I do not. I see it as a gift. Granted, if that much honking went on all day and all night, THEN I might find it a nuisance; but, as it is, it is just an occasional treat--to be witness to the joy of flight.

The joy of having enough

I am reminded for the eight hours per week that I volunteer with the State how blessed I am. Being so regularly reminded of my blessings is blessing in itself—it keeps me from getting complacent, from staying in my head too much, from assuming that everything is alright. Everything is SO not alright.

What I do at my volunteer job is to answer the main phone line for people who need help with food, medical insurance, housing, bills, etc. I do this job for 8 hours per week (two four-hour days). My coworker, Kathy, does it for the other 32 hours of the week when I'm not there. When I leave after 4 hours on the phones, my heart is heavy from hearing such sad stories and I feel drained. I don't know how Kathy does it for 8 hours a day. I could not.

Women call me crying because they have nothing to feed their children, and no money to buy food. People call me, freezing, because they cannot pay their heating or electric bills. Some are limited in job hunting or keeping a job because they cannot afford a vehicle…or they have a vehicle and can’t afford to put gas in it or to pay to get it out of the repair shop when something goes wrong with it. Some have been put out of their home due to foreclosure or eviction and call me, terrified, after spending their first night in a homeless shelter. Parents feel sad and helpless because they cannot afford to buy their children Christmas gifts.

Many people will judge those in such circumstances. They'll say these people are lazy, that they don’t want to work, that they won’t do what it takes to help themselves. Is this true of some of these people? Yes, I'm afraid it is. Is this true of all of them? Absolutely not!

There are people asking for help now who have never even thought of needing to do so before. The company they worked for went under and they lost their job (along with any benefits, such as health insurance, that may have come with it). They got sick, had no health insurance, and were driven into debt by the staggering hospital and doctor bills (and instead of being able to rest and take care of themselves once they’re out of the hospital, they have to scrabble to figure out how to stay afloat—how to keep from losing their house, etc.).

Before Missy came into my life two months ago, I was visiting the local SPCA weekly to see if I could help a dog escape euthanization (our SPCA is a kill shelter). In the weeks just before I got Missy, a third to a half of all the dogs in my local SPCA were surrenders--dogs that had been voluntarily turned over to the SPCA by their owners either because they could no longer afford to feed them or because the owners had lost their home.

Even some of my closest friends and family members are being hit hard by this economic downturn. My older brother just closed his home building business after 20+ years in operation. Several of my closest friends are struggling financially.

Things are bad. Really, really bad. Appreciate the joy of having enough. Recognize your blessings. And, if you're able, reach out to those who are struggling--either by giving of your time or your money. 'Tis the reason for the season, baby.

The joy of change

I have lived alone for many years. When you live alone for a long time, you get used to doing what you damn well please when you damn well please--for the most part, anyway. My routine got turned upside down 6 1/2 weeks ago when I adopted Missy, my Shih Tzu puppy. Now, there are Sheri's routines and there are Missy's routines and sometimes they clash, so Sheri's needs sometimes must take a back seat to Missy's.

Change is sometimes uncomfortable or even painful, but it is most often for the good. For a long time, I have tended to be too selfish, and caring for another living thing is helping me change that (and in return, of course, she gives me gobs of love and affection).

Since I am retired now, I have had the luxury of avoiding going outside when it is unpleasant--raining, snowing, extremely cold or windy--but living in a condo with a puppy, I no longer have this luxury. The dog must be walked. Change.

Between her energy, her friendliness and her "Nosy Nora" nature, Missy asks to out about every 2 hours. Naive me, I thought a dog asking to "go out" meant "I have to go potty." But, with Missy, sometimes it means "There is neighbor outside and I want to go say hi!" or "The Verizon man is across the street working on the power and I want to go say hi!" or "Denise (the condo sales manager) is in her office and I want to go say hi!" or "I see leaves falling from the trees and I want to go chase them!" or "I see Lynx (the neighbor's cat) and I want to go play with her!" So now I know to say "no" to some of her requests, especially when it's pouring rain or freezing cold.

Anticipating those freezing cold early-morning walks, I went and bought a double-layer ski-type jacket. I hate the cold. But go out in the cold I must...and right out of a warm bed, too. Change! Now that I have learned proper bundling-up procedure for those morning walks and can actually be comfortable while I'm out there, I've come to enjoy them more. Not to say I'm going to encourage hour-long walks in the freezing cold, but I'm at least not grumbling anymore.

Fall and spring are my favorite times of year. My absolute favorite weather comes at these times--a beautiful sunny day where the sun is warm but the air has a fresh coolness. I have always disliked losing those beautiful fall days to cold, harsh winter--and even moreso now that I have to be outside a lot more than I used to--but the seasons are inevitable. Change.

And now we have a new President-elect. This is change I can smile about!

The joy of being one

I have been single and unattached for the majority of my adult life. This has been especially true of the last eleven years, since L. moved to California. L. was a man whom I found captivating and frustrating in nearly equal measure (he was as close to the human equivalent of the Star Trek character, Spock, as I'd ever met). Ironically, before I met L., I had wished for a man who was as comfortable with solitude as I; L. was that--in fact, he was probably even more solitary a person than I--but I found it wasn't nearly so enviable a thing to have once I had it (funny how that happens, eh?). I loved him intensely, but I knew that he wasn't a man that I could be with for the rest of my life. When he moved to California, I was heart-broken, and yet I also knew it was probably for the best. L. and I are still friends to this day. He is now married.

I'm just fine with being one, but I wasn't always. I spent my 20s in bars with my best friend B, who was outgoing, flirtatious, built like a brick shithouse and, okay, let's be honest, easy. Men flocked to B. like flies on shit. I was cute, but I couldn't compete with that--I was an old-fashioned Ohio girl! I attracted my share of guys, but I had absolutely no luck at having relationships; at that time, that is what I wanted more than anything.

In my late 20s, I went through a spell where I would go out with B. and come home having met no one. I was despondent about it, because I was still locked in that quaint American mindset that I was supposed to be married by that age (this was the 70s). I became so unhappy, in fact, that I dropped out of dating entirely during much of my 30s and instead hung out with my new (at that time) gay guy friends. It may sound like a pathetic cop-out for a straight girl in the prime of her dating life, but it was one of the most joyous times of my life. I was able to go out, dance and have copious amounts of fun without the pressure of "Is someone going to ask me to dance? Will someone find me attractive? Will someone ask for my number?" I received unconditional love from my gay friends and I didn't have to be anyone but myself.

In my 40s, I found that I was no longer attracted to men my age or older as I had been in my 20s. I dated younger men during this time (which is when I met L., who was 13 years younger than I), but found that--except for L., who was intellectually and emotionally much older than his years--most of them weren't very interesting to talk to. It was in my 40s that I finally came to peace with the concept of being one. Perhaps I just wasn't meant to be paired, I reasoned, and what is so wrong with that? If it was meant to happen, it would; why spend precious time and energy worrying about it?

One of the joys of being one--at least for me--is that you become more comfortable with being with yourself (i.e., not always needing other people to enjoy yourself) and you learn more about who you are and what makes you tick. In my 40s, I definitely developed a clarity about who I was, what I wanted and what I didn't want--and I was no longer afraid of expressing that (I was an absolute wallflower in my 20s, so this was new ground for me). I learned to appreciate solitude--and eventually to require it.

One of the frustrations of being one--at least for me--is that most people have no concept for what it's like to be one. Since most people are paired and filter what they see through their own experiences, feelings and fears, people who are terrified of being alone tend to either treat me like a leper (I have been at the movie theatre alone and had people stare and give me wide berth as if I might infect them with my oneness) or like some pathetic creature who needs their nurturing.

Case in point: Years ago, I once had lunch at a regular haunt near my workplace and was paid an incredible amount of positive attention by the beautiful young man who was my waiter. I was not so silly to think it was attraction, but I couldn't figure out his motivation (it seemed overkill for a good tip, esp. since I was already known there to be a good tipper). At the end of the meal, he presented me with my check and said "I'm sorry that you had to have lunch alone." Ah. A nurturer. I gave him a smile, put down my book, and explained to him that I didn't have to lunch alone--that the hour I spent with a good book and a good meal was my oasis in an otherwise very stressful workday--and that, though he may not understand it yet, there are people who actually enjoy being alone and that I was one of them.

Being one in a society that trumpets "pairedness" as not only the norm but "the way" isn't always easy...but it is who I am.

The joy of relief

This morning, I came terrifyingly close to losing my little girl--what I call the 10-month-old Shih Tzu puppy who I adopted two and a half weeks ago. Missy and I were out for our first walk of the morning and I was distracted. Just before we left home, I'd heard a neighbor (though not one I immediately recognized) out behind my house frantically calling a name over and over; I presumed that her dog had run off.

Missy and I went out to help with the search but, by the time we got out to where the lady had been, she had switched to her car and was driving around the property, too far away for us to catch up. Missy and I proceeded on our usual walk route, but I kept looking around to see if I could catch sight of the dog. It was bitterly cold and windy for an early fall morning, so I was also distracted by being physically uncomfortable as the wind battered me.

Suddenly, Missy took off in a strong run--aimed straight for the major highway near our house--and between the distractions and the fact that I was new to wearing gloves while yielding the leash, the leash handle pulled out of my hand when she hit the end of the lead. Missy was running full steam toward the rush hour traffic whizzing by at 50-60 MPH and the terrible image of her being hit by a car flashed through my brain.

In a flat-out panic, I screamed her name over the howling wind and passing traffic until finally she stopped and turned around to see what I was so excited about. Getting her attention was only half the battle--us being new to one another, there hasn't been enough time for me to train her adequately to come on command. So I cautiously advanced, knowing how much she loves to be chased, not wanting her to start running again. After several agonizing seconds that felt like forever, I got close enough to the leash handle to step on it and keep her from advancing into the road if she took off again.

Soon, I had the leash back in hand and we resumed our walk. I'm sure Missy had no idea how hard my heart was beating and how labored my breathing was as we headed back home. To her it was probably just another day of romping in the grass and smelling the flowers. For me, it was a terrifying lesson about how important it is to stay focused on her when we're walking. I am so thankful that my scary experience had a happy ending. I can only hope the same for my neighbor.

The joy of a perfect fall day

Some people think it's weird that I live at the beach and yet I haven't actually been on the beach for more than a few minutes since I moved here in January. I don't find it odd at all. I love living at the beach--I just don't happen to love it as much during the summer as I do during the spring and fall. One reason is that I don't tolerate heat and humidity as well anymore, especially when the water is so cold that I can't easily get in the ocean to cool off. Another is that, in the summer, everyone is on the beach, including hundreds of people who don't live here.

Years before I ever thought of living at the beach, spring and fall were my favorite seasons. My idea of a perfect day, weather-wise, is a bright spring or fall day when the sky is a clear blue with puffy white clouds, there is a light cool breeze, and the sun's warmth balances the coolness so that you can still be comfortable without a jacket. As a person who loves to walk for exercise and yet has a low tolerance for heat, a day like this--with a temperature around 65-70 degrees--is as close to perfection as it gets.

Many days of the past two weeks here have been just like that. It was perfect weather for the new puppy and I to become accustomed to walking together in our first two weeks together. I'm finding that she likes the same kind of days I do--as a Shih Tzu, she has a low tolerance for heat too, so we're well suited. She loves the cool breeze that comes in the window from the trees behind my house along with the sights and sounds of the open window--crickets, cicadas, birds, butterflies, etc.

The past few days have been gray and cloudy, topping out at 60 degrees with a fierce, chilling wind that made me think about pulling out my winter hat and gloves. Not only has it not been pleasant to walk the dog, but I have found myself bummed out by the recent cold front--it is a portent that my perfect fall days are soon to be over and winter is on its way--but first, the forecast says we will have some more (slightly chillier) perfect fall days to enjoy. Get outside and enjoy them while they last!

The joy of puppy love

Today is my birthday. I got an early birthday present that I wasn't expecting--a puppy. A friend recommended me as a potential adoptive mommy to friends of theirs--a family who is going through a health crisis and had made the difficult decision to give away their 9-month-old Shih-Tsu puppy, Missy, because they didn't feel they could continue to care for her in light of this new unfortunate circumstance in their lives. After a meeting with the owner and Missy on October 4, Missy came to live with me.

Physically, I have rarely felt so much my age as I have this week; and yet, emotionally, I have felt young and happy. There is nothing quite like the love of a puppy to make you smile all over. While I am not elated about having to get out of bed and take Missy outside before the sun is even up, this is more than balanced by the joy of being greeted by Missy upon awakening. She climbs on me and kisses my nose and snuggles for a few moments to give me a chance to wake up before we go out.


One of the most joyous parts of being a new puppy mommy is seeing the world anew through her eyes. Her first big adventure was visiting some of my favorite haunts--the boardwalk, Lake Gerar (aka "the pond") and the seawall. She was enthralled by the seagulls, fascinated by the smells (Thrasher's fries, pizza, cheese steaks, fudge, you name it) and enchanted by all the people she met. She could barely contain herself with all the sensory input and it was sometimes a challenge for me to keep her out of the way of cars, bicycles, joggers and tourists.


I will admit, there have been moments when I questioned my decision--she is needy, has horrible separation anxiety, doesn't know how to play without biting and jumps on everything and everyone--but then I look at her sweet face, see how smart she is and how well she is learning new behaviors in just a week and I know she's worth the effort. I see how the tip of her little baby tongue sticks out when she brings me her squeaky toy and there is no way I can't smile. I hear her little baby growl when she says "Come on, play with me!" or "I have to GO!" and I have to laugh...even when she is getting on my last nerve.....like right now! Gotta go!

The joy of a country road

I find it ironic that, now that I'm living in a small town, my commute is longer (by both driving time and mileage) than when I was living in the Washington DC area--an area known for protracted and headache-inducing commutes. A Sussex County Delaware commute and a Washington, DC or Alexandria, VA commute can be quite different animals. In the DC area, you can sit at traffic lights at what seems like every 50 feet. In Sussex County, I'm currently driving almost a half-hour one way to my volunteer job and I do not sit at ANY traffic lights (I do hit a few flashing red lights where I have to stop and look for traffic but, if the intersection is clear, I don't have to wait to proceed).

Since I began this volunteer gig in July, I had been looking for a "nicer" route to work. The obvious route from my town to that town is the one that all the tourists use to get to my town (a beach resort); it being the most obvious and direct route, it is used pretty heavily in both directions, especially during beach season. There are a number of traffic lights on this route (though nothing like driving through Alexandria).

I recently started using a more rural route which completely avoids that major state route and uses country roads. According to Google Maps, the rural route is actually longer by mileage than the other route, but I get there faster because there is much less traffic and many fewer traffic lights. But getting there faster is only one reason why I use this route.

I was driving home from my gig yesterday--the sun shining, the crops waving in the wind, the car windows open to welcome in the strong breeze--and I was smiling. It was like being back in Ohio (where I grew up), except that Sussex County is flat as a pancake and the part of Ohio I'm from was very hilly. The crops in the fields were looking bedraggled, but it was all still so beautiful to me and filled me with a simple joy. A ride in the country was an event where I'm from in Ohio (what the heck else was there to do?); in fact, it still is when my siblings and I make it back there. My mother will pile us all in the car and off we'll go. Maybe we'll go shopping in an Amish town or visit our old hometown or maybe we'll just drive--the sun shining, the blue sky dazzling, the trees dancing--and enjoy the simplicity of being home again.

A friend from the DC area was visiting last weekend and I took her to lunch a few miles out of town. As we were driving, there was a large herd of cows all standing clumped together under the trees at the edge of this huge field. I said to my friend "Now that's not something you see every day in Alexandria." We both laughed, and I told her about my adventures since moving here--seeing huge turkey buzzards right on the road (eating the roadkill) and seeing roosters walking along the edge of the road. It's definitely a different kind of scenery than I had for the 37 years I lived in the DC area--but I'm rather liking it.