How do you say that?

One of the new homes on the drive between South Haven and Glenn was having a well drilled this morning. The truck outside the home was "Koops Well Drilling, Inc." For those who are not from West Michigan that's pronounced "Copes" if there were no "s" on the end it would be pronounced "Coop." Confused? Don't worry. Many are.

I went to Hamilton High School school with Blaine Koops (the former Allegan County Sheriff, now retired). My dad's best friend was his uncle, Lloyd Koops. Again, the correct pronunciation  is "Copes." Down the road from us lived the Koop family. Harvey and Mary Lou Koop (of Hamilton Dahila Farm fame) and their children. The correct pronunciation is "Coop." One consonant at the end of a name changes everything.  

Eding Tractor Sales in Hamilton (and all Edings that I know of) pronounce their name "A-ding," not "Ed-ing."

We lived in Cambridge, Ohio for four years. I worked at the daily paper in Zanesville, Ohio. There was a small town not far from Zanesville called Gratiot, pronounced "Gray-Shot." In later years I worked for a paper in Ithaca, Michigan, which the county seat for Gratiot County, pronounced "Gra-shit." Not far from Ithaca was the tiny town of Pompeii, pronounced "Pom-pee-eye," not to be confused with the city of Pompeii, pronounced "Pom-pay," that was buried by a volcano.

The Arkansas river is pronounced "Ark-ken-saw," until it flows through Kansas where it is pronounced "Are-Kansas." At least that is what my sister told me. Could be her circle of friends were the only ones who pronounced it that way.

And then there are variations on spelling, as in Cheboygan, Michigan and Sheboygan, Wisconsin. 

My maiden name is Stehower, the correct familial spelling is Stehouwer. Dad changed it, supposedly because the military got it wrong during WWII and he rather liked the spelling.  Regardless, the name is "Stay-hower." But frankly I've never been one to correct someone who says it wrong. 

There is no point to this, it's just random thoughts triggered by a well driller's truck.

This is our life

We are on our way back to Michigan. I have mixed feelings about it. It will certainly be good to be back, to see our sons and their children. But now the reality of no longer having a brick and mortar home is truly beginning to take hold.

The fact is … we are living in our home. Right now.  I am in the living room. Eight feet away, King is in the bedroom. If we were so inclined we could throw spit wads at one another.

I am looking out our front/back door at a small reservoir.  I believe it is stocked with bass and there are a few fishermen out -- some on the shore, some in small fishing boats. I can also hear at least one jet ski. 

View from our campsite in Elk City.

This little campground in Elk City, Oklahoma has five free campsites. It offers water and electric hookups. There is a four-day limit to stay here. When we arrived Sunday around 1 p.m. we snagged the last spot in the campground. By 10 a.m. today we were the only people here. King and I sat in our lawn chairs this morning and watched the ducks looking for their breakfast and saw a couple of fish jumping. There is a farm (or is it a ranch in Oklahoma) in the distance and we could hear the cattle. It is difficult to describe how restful this is. We will hit the road again Tuesday. By the time I find a place with WiFi so I can post this, it will be Wednesday or Thursday.

Our plans had originally been to head north through Kansas where I was going to finally be able to visit the world’s largest ball of twine. Mother Nature had a different idea. With the threat of a blizzard bringing possibly 30 inches of snow, we decided to stay on a more southerly route and head to Memphis and then make a left, real sudden like, and head north. Hopefully we will miss the white stuff. It’s difficult to imagine as we sit here in the sunshine with our windows open that spring is not everywhere. In fact, the weather in Cawker City, Kansas (where we were heading) called for 80 degrees on Tuesday, and snow on Wednesday. We will pass. There will be another time.

Life is good. And it's so easy to just say, "not this time, maybe next," and actually mean it.

And it's a simple life. Primitive by some standards.

I just watched a large motor home pull into the campsite next to ours. They backed in, hit a switch inside the home, jacks came down and leveled it automatically. Someone got out and plugged in to the power outlet and I can now see someone else reading in the front seat.  An even larger motorhome pulled in shortly after that. I have never seen one so big. Ever.

Our travel trailer is nothing like our new neighbors. Our experience parking is not quite the same. We argue while King backs in. I still don’t understand why he wants me to direct him. He doesn’t listen, look or believe when I tell him which way to turn. He always gets out and checks for himself. I’ve learned it’s best to just not say anything and let him make his disparaging remarks. I have plenty remarks of my own, but I always turn my head so he can’t see my lips moving. I’m polite that way.
  
We have nothing automatic. Once we are backed in we eyeball the trailer and decide which side needs to be raised, guess on the number of leveling blocks needed, place them in front of the wheels and pull the trailer onto them. If we are still listing left or right, we simply move the pillows on the bed to accommodate an uphill sleep. We have an antenna for the TV which King attached to tent poles duct taped together. If we think we are in an area where we can get a signal, we set it up, otherwise it remains in our "junk box" which is attached to the outside of the trailer. Adjustments for the antenna are also manual – meaning one goes outside to adjust it. We don’t hook-up to campsite water, opting instead to fill our 40 gallon tank and conserve water as much as possible. There is an outlet for hooking up to “city water” but the plumbing in our trailer is 40 years old. We don’t want to chance too much water pressure blowing out our plumbing. And yes, they make flow regulators. Again, our plumbing is 40 years old. Why chance anything?

We have no blenders, mixers, Bullets or food processors. We have no microwave. No coffee maker. No crockpot. No instant pot. There simply is not space for them. We eat lots of soup, sandwiches and salads.I drink instant coffee. Same as Mom. Sometimes I do a stir fry. King is not really into big meals. The only food request he has had in 43 years of marriage is stuffing and instant mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. He prefers turkey over ham. He doesn't like peas, corn or asparagus. He loves Mountain Dew and donuts for breakfast and I can't convince him to change that habit. 

Right now King is watching “Charlies Angels” reruns and the dog is lying next to me on the “couch,” which is actually the spot for the table which we’ve taken down to make a place to sit comfortably (as a living room).

This is our home. This is the way we live. It certainly is not for everyone, but for us it is a respite from 43 years of being responsible. The only responsible thing we've done in the past 18 months is buy burial insurance for the two of us. The money for a monthly premium for a big policy will buy a tank of gas. We have our priorities. The kids will have enough to bury us and have a party. No funeral, please.

Yes. I'm sure my siblings think we are rather irresponsible. When we talked about doing this three years ago, my sister Donna thought we were insane. I found this out from a family friend. She never told me. Donna was always one to plan everything out in detail. She and I took a trip east in 2001. We left in September and had mapped our route six months beforehand. I am not exaggerating. As it turned out she and I had made no plans for the last day of the trip and when the time came, Donna could not fathom just stopping at a motel along the route without a reservation. So we drove from Vermont straight through to Michigan. It was not difficult. I was so (greatly perturbed) I was awake the entire time. I loved my sister dearly. I miss her deeply. But like all siblings there were times when we genuinely did not like one another. Kind of like marriage.

Pre-planning is not the way King and I go. We've always been ones to fly by the seat of our pants. We will be driving along and he'll say, "Find a place to stop for the night." I will whip out my phone and go to www.freecampsites.net and hunt for spots along the route. Sometimes they are good. Sometimes not so good. But the price is right. And that's the way we roll.

This is not a travel post

I opened blogger for the first time in several weeks to find an announcement regarding changes being made by Google+. The unfortunate (or possibly fortunate} thing is it could have been written in Latin and it would have made just as much sense to me. I guess I will have to see if my blog is still available and continue as if things are normal until it goes away entirely. In other words, I'll just ignore it, same as ignoring the "check engine light" in my truck.

Does this mean I am becoming my parents?

Probably.

Neither of them knew how to turn on a computer, although Dad took a programming course through adult education when I was still in high school. I recall he came home with a bunch of punch cards that to  most people today would mean very little. They were pretty impressive to us at the time. That was 1973 or 1974. Dad was eons ahead of me and I would have to give him an A for effort.

Then the technology that Dad spent six weeks learning in adult education became obsolete. New technology took over, changed and got "better" almost overnight. Dad was left in the dust. I never took a computer class but was able to keep up for a while by punching buttons and figuring out how to undo what I had done, but slowly I am losing the "keeping up with technology" battle.

Today our children transfer money using Venmo, Zelle, Square Cash and a host of others. I can manage the granddaddy of money transfer things (PayPal) but nothing else seems to work. Not that I haven't tried. Then again, this year the tried and true "send money to the grandchild in a birthday card" failed as well." We suspect a mailbox thief.

My older sister Donna was determined not to let technology pass her by and worked to keep up with every new thing that came along. I don't know if she were still alive if she would be willing to trust all the money transfers, etc. available today as she was pretty careful with her money and electronics, but I'm sure she would know exactly what the flux capacitor did on her computer and be able to sync it to her television.

When we were first married King could hook up cable for the TV and stereo, creating surround sound in our tiny apartment --  not that surround sound was needed in a 500 square foot apartment -- but we had it. In fact, we were the first couple in our complex to have a television with a built-in cable receptor. I remember because when we moved out, the apartment supervisor who checked us out made us unload the U Haul trailer as he was convinced we still had the university's adapter attached to our TV. He had never seen a built-in adapter. He also did not offer to help re-load the trailer.

I find I can take some small measure of comfort that my placement in the battle with technology is eons ahead of King's. Or maybe that comfort is misguided. Sometimes being blissfully ignorant has its benefits.

King and I fight over the remote and which button to push to switch from regular TV to Netflix (on those rare occasions when I am able to get the WiFi to work in the trailer). I find myself becoming exasperated, "Stop just pushing buttons for the hell of it and slow down." And after passing me the remote (chucking it at me actually), if I don't instantly find the right button I hear, "Well, genius, you are no better than me." (And in reality I'm not).

One thing I really especially enjoy (sarcasm) is  the fact that he does not know how to use GoogleMaps. We bickered from St. Joseph, Michigan all the way to Vandalia, Illinois over changing routes and following maps. I kept telling him I really enjoyed driving the backroads of Illinois and I didn't know what his problem was. Stopping at the "Chat and Chew Cafe" beats McDonald's any day. He insisted I got us lost on purpose (I did). I suggested he either learn how to use the GPS on the truck or upgrade from a flip-phone to something that supported GoogleMaps.

The other day I was on my way to the grocery store when one of our sons called me. I pulled into a parking lot to talk since I really don't care to pay a $90 fine for talking on a phone while driving in California. He and I chatted for a while and before saying goodbye he said, "You know Mom, you should really get a bluetooth device for the truck." I paused for a moment and then admitted there was one built-in to the truck and I had even paired it to my phone, but kept forgetting to turn it on.

Technology does no good if you don't use it. And it won't be long before what I do have becomes obsolete. I guess I'd better use it before I lose it.

Our last hurrah??

It’s a quiet Monday morning. We are at our daughter’s house where King is building a “Little Free Library” for our daughter’s mother-in-law. The next project will be a closet organizer. He has already built a storage unit for all of our daughter's outdoor Christmas decorations. I christened it the "Sears Tower," because it is rather tall. (As in it almost reaches their second-story window).

Last week found us camping in the Anza Borrego Desert State Park. We stayed at the Blair Valley campground which is a primitive campground – meaning no electricity and no water. It was free, which is always a good price. The only amenity is a vault toilet near the entrance to the campground.  Campers bring their own water and carry out their trash. There are no designated campsites, the "rules" say to park no more than one car-length from the "road." I think the entire time we were there about seven cars drove past our campsite. The isolation is awesome and the solitude is beyond explanation. The park itself encompasses about 600,000 acres with many different campgrounds within the park, so for those not into "roughing it," there are alternatives.

It was a good week for exploring. King and I were generally up early and did our wandering in the morning. We were back home (and by “home” I mean our trailer) by noon and would spend our afternoons napping or listening to satellite radio. It was a relaxing week. We visited small towns nestled in the mountains or sprawled out in desert valleys. We saw the remains of Native American seasonal camps, experienced warm days and cold nights, and watched the solar eclipse under crystal clear skies. The only noise was the occasional radio music from our nearest neighbor about a mile away as it drifted across the ancient dry lake bed.

This week we are settled back into the noisy campground at Sweetwater Summit County Park. It’s a different kind of relaxing. We have electricity and although we never hook the trailer directly to running water, we can fill the tank whenever we need to. As an aside, King and I don’t trust the plumbing in our trailer enough to hook it up directly to city water. She is 40-years-old and our fear is if we directly hooked up the pressure would blow our plumbing apart.

At this campground we are surrounded by campers. We wave at our “neighbors” while we drive to our campsite, but King and I are not the mingling types, so we don’t share campfires, we don’t really talk to them – just basic pleasantries and assurances Cindy doesn’t bite. 

And there are showers here. Oh, blessed showers.

Two years ago King removed the shower from our bathroom in the trailer to give us more storage space. It was an all-in-one unit, meaning you could sit on the toilet and take a shower. I used it one time to wash my hair. We needed the space more than we needed to shower.  So, now that we we have the availability of a campground bath house at this particular campground, we take advantage of the facilities. The showers here, by the way, are coin operated – four quarters for eight minutes. I am determined to use my full dollars’ worth (must be the Dutch in me) and I’ve found eight-minute showers are longer than the ones I used to take when home was a regular house with a regular bathroom and regular shower.

Our children bought King a small TV for Father’s Day last June and our oldest son helped us set it up internet TV with all of King’s favorite TV westerns and old sitcoms. I bought King a wall mount for Christmas and now it hangs over the bed in the back of the trailer. Here in the greater San Diego area we can pick up at least 50 stations with an antenna. A few weeks ago King watched a few of the college bowl games in Spanish. For someone like me who only listens to the games halfheartedly it was interesting to hear the same game voice droning on and on – except in Spanish.

And speaking of King watching TV in the back of the trailer… that “back” spot (or family room) is about seven feet from where I sit, in what normally would be the dinette area, but I’ve converted into a sofa (formal living room). This is our home. Small and compact with all we need a few feet from wherever we are. People may ask, “How was camping?” and we will tell them it’s “fine,” or “fun” but the reality is, this is our lifestyle now. This is what we do. This is our home. Permanently. Our “home” is truly where we park it. The realization that this is not a “vacation,” but our new lifestyle, is going to take some getting used to. It can be a little daunting at times. 

We will be heading back to Michigan this spring so King can play golf with our sons. I wonder what he is going to do to keep himself busy. When we worked on the farm there was always a project – 20 acres of lawn to mow, wood to cut, chickens and rabbits to feed, etc. etc. – so the concern of boredom does loom now.  My suggestion that he take up whittling was met with laughter.

This has been a learning curve for both of us and this type of living arrangement is not for the faint of heart. I would say it takes a giant leap of faith, but in reality it is more than that. It takes a willingness to be able to take things as they come and also takes the realization that, yes, we know this cannot last forever. After watching my parents struggle with their aging bodies and then standing by helpless as my mother's mind disappeared, we know this is basically our last hurrah.  Someday we may have to find a permanent place to live (one that cannot be moved), or move into an assisted living center. But until then it's our turn to have some fun.

Happy New Year

It’s the last day of 2018. I’m not one to wax poetic about the end of the year and new beginnings. I’ve never kept a New Year’s resolution and I don’t think I will be starting now. Not that I don’t believe in them, I just know myself and my limitations. So other than to say I’m going to try to stay out of political debates on Facebook, I don’t have any resolutions.

I’m pretty sure the biggest change for me for 2019 is the same change I’ve made every New Year – remembering to change the date on checks. And since I don’t even own a check book any longer, it’s not much of a concern.

My older sister Donna would have turned 70 on January 1. I miss her. But her absence is one I’ve adjusted to. That may seem harsh, but it’s my reality. When I think of Donna I think of the good times we had. I remember the trips she and I took together. I remember her temper. I remember her generosity. I think of the things that made Donna the person she was. But my first thought when I realized she would have been 70 in 2019 was, “Wow, I have (or would have had) two sisters in their 70s.” That’s a sobering thought. Wasn’t it just yesterday my younger sister and I were anticipating their return home from college?  And wasn’t it the day before yesterday we were celebrating her birthday with friends from Chicago and sledding down Veldhoff’s hill?

Today King and I are spending the last day of 2018 in our “new” home. He is watching football and I am writing, messaging our daughter, knitting and just generally chilling. It’s rather relaxing.

Santa gave King a wall mount bracket for our TV for Christmas. We were going to install it last night, but King left the charger for the drill at our daughter’s house. So we drove to her house today to get the charger and returned to the campground to get the wall bracket installed. The most I can say about the installation is we are still married. Projects, King and I are not a good combination.

I may have mentioned before that our travel trailer is tiny. I don’t think that fully expresses how small it truly is. Before we got the TV mounted on the wall we had it set up on a small rolling cart between the refrigerator and the bathroom door. It had to be moved any time we wanted to open either door.  Now it is hanging above the bed and I am sitting at the table – about eight feet away. It really has not taken much to become accustomed to living in a small space. We have a place for everything and when it is not in the proper place it is VERY apparent.

I have had people tell me they would love to live in a small space, but can’t imagine parting with their possessions. The reality is, once you start looking at possessions/treasures as simply “things” it becomes easier to do. I will admit, there are nine boxes stored at our son’s home. But in those boxes are things that I might need should there ever come a time when King and I can no longer live in a 16-foot travel trailer – a crock pot, food dehydrator, a juicer and a few other items of that nature.  Sentimental items are either gone or have been given away.

So King and I are content. It’s not a matter of learning to go without. It’s a matter of enjoying what we have.

Later today we will be heading back to our daughter and son-in-law’s home to babysit while they go out to ring in the new year with friends. It’s been a long time since King has made it to midnight and I doubt he will tonight. Whether or not I make it is questionable as well.

I wish everyone a happy and peaceful New Year.

Coddiwomple

Coddiwomple is British slang meaning to travel purposefully toward an as-yet-unknown destination.

Taken from the Mindful Travel Facebook page

That's King and I. We don't know where we are going, but we are heading there in a determined fashion.

Right now there is really no destination or set goal in our meandering. I know we will be back in Michigan for the summer. The plan is for  King to continue playing in his Tuesday golf league as well as participate in weekend golf scrambles with our sons.

For our daughters-in-law, golf scrambles are not top on the list of fun things husbands do. I must admit I was right there with them in my intense hatred of golf when our children were young. Now that the children are grown and I find my unencumbered time a joy...King can participate in as many scrambles as he likes. Sorry ladies. I feel your pain, but I don't participate in it. I just need to find King a summer man-cave so I don't have to join him in his post-golf celebratory late-night music-fests. (I despise those more than I ever did the golf).

In the meantime we will relish our purposeful travel to parts unknown.

One thing has changed.

When we first started out on this adventure I had this secret image of meeting people and writing feature articles about them. There are a lot of interesting people out there with stories to tell.

Case in point -- the gentleman who serves as the campground host at the remote national forest campground where King and I escape to quite regularly. He truly is a fascinating character, and in the four minutes I spoke with him, I learned he used to work for the city of Lemon Grove, Calif., and when the opportunity to take over as campground host was presented to him, he jumped at the offer. A part of me would like to know more. What it is like to live alone during the week only to have the solitude invaded on the weekends by people who are either seeking escape themselves or who are out to have a good time partying? What does he do all day long? Does he get lonely? What are some of the strangest things he has seen?  But my reality is, after years (and years and years) of talking to strangers and writing stories about their lives...I just don't have it in me any longer. I'm tired. So I settle for snippets of information.

My imagination serves me better than reality most times anyway.

In the meantime between campground visits, we are having a good time spending time with our daughter and her family.

This past week she has been attending a real estate seminar in La Jolla, which means King and I have been taking the boys to school for her. They attend school in a different school district so every morning we have a commute to school. And this is California. Land of the multiple highways and never-ending traffic. Although the school is just seven miles from their home, it takes 20 minutes or more to get there. (By the way, school districts in California do not provide free busing for students. Students either walk, pay to ride the school bus, or their parents take them to school).

And I am back in elementary school again. It's a little different from the school of my youth, or even that of our children's youth. Each morning after the 7:25 a.m. bell, a mini-assembly is held in the  courtyard outside the classrooms. Parents and children alike attend. Mom's in sweatpants, pushing strollers, Moms in business clothes, Dads in suits and Dads in jeans -- they all participate. The assembly starts with reciting the Pledge, (yes, even in "liberal" California, they still recite the Pledge of Allegiance. And just because my political views lean to the left, does not mean I don't approve of reciting the pledge -- don't get me going), announcements are made, and they sing a song, or hand out awards, etc.

Mornings are on the cooler side -- high 50s to low 60s -- I arrive in a t-shirt and jeans because "back home" this would be flip-flop weather. Other parents are wearing down-filled vests and scarves. I have to remember to dress the boys in their hoodies or I get the "what is wrong with their grandmother" look from other parents.

And speaking of weather...It's been different not having to dress in winter coats, boots, hats, mittens and scarves. I can (and do) run out to the mailbox barefoot. Although I will miss Christmas shopping with snow softly falling, I could easily get used to this.

Our new life

We have officially been "on the road" for about a month.

Technically that is a misnomer. We left Michigan on November 8, and drove like crazy people to arrive at our daughter's home five days later in order to babysit while they took a mini-vacation. We almost made it in four days, but strong winds in Arizona forced us to hunker-down early to wait out the wind. There is little worse than pulling a swaying trailer through mountain passes.

We have been staying at our daughter's home off and on since arriving and will continue to do so until shortly after the holidays or until our son-in-law runs screaming from the house, whichever comes first. The two of them have a lot of holiday parties, farewell parties for co-workers, and work conferences between now and the new year. We are needed and it has been enjoyable to do "grandparent duty" for them. But it is a fine line between helping out and "over-staying your welcome," as my mother used to say.

Flexibility is one of the joys of having no hard and fast plans, but it is also something we have to get used to. Or at least I have to get used to it. King keeps himself busy by working on all kinds of projects at our daughter's house. Some of them she asked him to do, others he found on his own. I'm not certain if she really wanted them done or is just too polite to ask him: "What the heck did you do now?" I know that is the way I was with my father.  So many times I wanted to say, "Thanks Dad but I really had different plans for the breezeway (or whatever)." My father had a difficult time with our project timetables, which generally were based on bills, golf outings and paychecks -- meaning projects would be started, bills would come up or an all-important golf scramble was scheduled and project completion would be pushed back months.

As I write this I am watching our daughter and King put together a lighted "Happy Holidays" sign to place on her garage roof. I THINK it is the last of the outdoor Christmas decorations.

I enjoy watching the two of them work together. Our daughter has grandiose ideas which she patiently explains to her father over and over again until that one "ah ha" moment when he finally "gets it." He really is not that obtuse, he just has problems conceptualizing abstract ideas. Where I will throw up my hands in absolute frustration while trying to explain something to him, our daughter will keep trying until her ideas come across. Of course it helps that they have not been married 42 years and that daughters and daddies tend to have more patience with one another than husbands and wives.

I have enjoyed being a part of holiday traditions in a new home. Our daughter has taken a mix of the traditions she grew up with and blended them with the traditions of her husband.  We spent two weekends ago shopping for a Christmas tree and decorating the outside of the house with lights that would rival the Griswolds from the movie "Christmas Vacation." This past weekend the tree has finally been decorated and Sunday night was the last night for lighting candles on the Menorah. They have been teaching the boys about reason, self-esteem, courage, freedom, love, loyalty, generosity and hope. I hope the traditions they are starting now are something their boys will continue when they are grown.

Back "home" in Michigan our sons have blended our family traditions with those of their wives. It has been enjoyable to watch this -- the give and take and working to make things work to create new family traditions -- traditions that I hope will become ingrained only to change again when the grandchildren become adults. My daughter and I were discussing this the other day. She was surprised to learn that some of the Christmas traditions we followed as she was growing up were a combination of Stehower and McCrossin traditions. Some were our own invention.

Wishing everyone a blessed holiday season and may your traditions bring you comfort and joy. Best wishes for a great New Year.