Houses for Sale
I have decided to sell my house. Anxiety has settled in, telling me I need to free up money for other
pursuits.
Other pursuits?
Other pursuits?
OK the grand-kids. Hockey lessons for one thing, plus train
trips and plane trips and car trips - to and from CA where two of my five grandchildren live. Trips
aside, there are other sports as well: soccer, swimming, basketball, and
baseball. And, as for college costs eight years ahead? Don't ask.
Trust me, youth sports aren't free like the old days (1950s). They cost big-time, and me, like a good number of parents (actually I’m a grandparent), am convinced that my progeny will either play professional sports or, at the very least, be sifting through college scholarship offers as he or she romps toward early adult life with both mind and body in decathlete-like fitness prior to settling on his or her MD in training residency location. OK - that's a joke, but something like that.
Trust me, youth sports aren't free like the old days (1950s). They cost big-time, and me, like a good number of parents (actually I’m a grandparent), am convinced that my progeny will either play professional sports or, at the very least, be sifting through college scholarship offers as he or she romps toward early adult life with both mind and body in decathlete-like fitness prior to settling on his or her MD in training residency location. OK - that's a joke, but something like that.
Somewhere along this continuum the progeny will fall in love with a
self-assured, attractive mate of equal or better intellect and I will move
toward a re-classification - that of great grandfather ... and living perhaps ... where? I don't know, think "King of Queens," the TV show where grandpa abides, let's just say, in quarters, that are below the ground floor.
House will be long sold by then and my power and influence will have diminished as well.
Oh ... and I'll be living ... oh, I don't know ... Kansas maybe.
Oh ... and I'll be living ... oh, I don't know ... Kansas maybe.
Epilogue-1
My Madison, NJ house finally sold, closing date 1/31/2013. New address is the sun-porch of daughter
Ashley’s home in Florham
Park, NJ, a few blocks north.
Just before the house sale, I traveled to Washington, DC by car to celebrate Obama’s inauguration with a dear friend. We spent the overnight
in Annapolis, MD then drove to DC the next morning for the main event. I bought a
Washington Post at Starbucks and we relaxed with coffee before moving on to a pub in Georgetown
where we watched the day's events on TV, which was secretly my
preference all along. I just wanted to be in the middle of the capitol on
this day.
Came home through a late night blizzard, that began lightly on the NJ Turnpike, but became severely more treacherous later as the car shifted and slid in snow ruts on the unplowed Garden State Parkway.
Good news is that I lived to tell it.
With the house closing approaching, I began the moving process - gathering things, tossing things, and packing things in almost two dozen Staples file boxes. The contents of these boxes were mainly old writing notes and thousands of photographs created from a time before phone cameras and saving pictures on the computer. I had ten days to lug everything to either Ashley's garage (storage for perpetuity) or my tool shed size sun-porch room inside her house. For the heavy items, the last to go, I enlisted help from nephew Bob, twenty years my junior. That finished, I made my usual solemn vow, "I'm never moving again."
OK, solemn?
Frivolous would be a better adjective. Why? Because, among other things, I seem to be an addicted mover that should have long ago joined "movers-anonymous." Not sure if I hold the world record, but with thirteen moves since exiting the US Army in 1970, I think I'm up there. One of those moves was especially cherished as I returned to the same home that I occupied forty-five years prior, 9 Lee Avenue in Madison, NJ. Another was to the same condo complex, same unit. A third was next door to a former home in a development with all same homes. So same home, just next door.
No doubt my frequent home moves say something about me. Not sure exactly what or if it's something good.
Hmmm.
With the house closing behind me, I took off for California on Thurs 2/7, where I stayed with west-coast daughter and family for six weeks.
Upon return I began a new life as tenet in the home of my New Jersey daughter. The NJ living space is a first floor sun-porch. It's bright and cozy, with dimensions approximating that of a medium-size tool shed.
I am happy about it, honest.
Once settled, I resumed my perpetual post-move ritual of searching for lost items. Minor success there, or should I say, a work in progress?
Epilogue-2
In April 2020 I returned for a second tour in my daughter's sun-porch. Very happy about it. I feel it's the last move.
