Home is where my heart is.

Home again, home again, jiggiety-jog,
Home again, home again, like a fat hog.

Or in our case two fat hogs. With no scales in our trailer, we have no idea how much weight we’ve actually gained but our trousers are getting uncomfortably tight. Brian says that the laundry facilities at campgrounds are equipped with industrial machines and therefore have shrunk our clothes. I’ve decided not to argue with his logic because he is always correct, well, almost always.

Our trip was cut short because my parents are coping with some health issues. Since Brian, Annie, and I are currently jobless and childless, it felt like the perfect time to help out. Brian has already proven his worth by constructing a 16-foot ramp, making life much more convenient and safe for my parents. But thanks to my quick thinking and sweet-talking his ramp has avoided deconstruction by the Village Zoning Board. Granville is an adorable place to live with volumes of zoning laws; building a 16-foot ramp without permission defies at least ten regulations. Thankfully my childhood in Granville taught me to ask for forgiveness rather than permission which ensured the ramp will remain in place until September 1st when my parents move to their retirement cottage.

Brian builds structures and I build relationships. Both are skills we will need for our new adventure, moving back home after 31 years away. Much like Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty, our time On The Road has created memories that will feed our souls and imaginations for the rest of our lives. Our time on the road has also solidified within us a desire to strive for purpose rather than money. In the previous stage of our life, we worked-to-live but in the next stage, we want to live-to-work. We want to love what we do so much that it doesn’t even feel like work. While the specifics of the work are not yet crystal clear, we are sure of two things: I want to work for myself and Brian wants to have a creative career, nothing corporate. Looks like his beard is here to stay :)

This will be my last entry to the Late Boomers blog. The discipline and creativity it took to craft the posts have bolstered my appreciation for the craft of writing. It has been a lifelong dream to write a community column for a local newspaper, following in the footsteps of my journalistic heroes: Mark Twain, Don Haven (You Know I’m Right for the Newark Advocate), and my Great Aunt Zollie who wrote 3,400 columns entitled News from Currin Valley for the Smyth County News (Virginia) for 57 years. 

Article about Aunt Zollie's final column

While I may not have reached the level of professionalism of my mentors, I am blessed to have had an outlet to pursue my writing dream thanks to you. A writer can never reach their full potential without a reader. Your interpretation and reaction to my words, be them real or imaginary, are vital. Communication with others requires precision and diplomacy otherwise all my words are nothing more than screaming into the void. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for taking this journey with me.

Add Brian's video here

Happy Trails, all 15,290 of them!