For reasons known.
And reasons feared.

Why did we lease out our house, pack our furniture into a garage, and take off across the country?

Because we could.

Thanks to the crazy real estate market in San Diego, our net worth went from not much to a bunch of zeroes. Plus, we had some luck with our business in the last couple years, dealing in used Steinway grand pianos
(www.TomWatsonPiano.com).

But it's not as if we're flush.

At some point our trip will be running on the fumes of a home equity loan. Warren Buffett wouldn't approve of our financial plan which essentially is: screw the balance sheet. Let's worry about money later.

The numbers most important to us now are the miles left before we reach the next RV park.

If we were smart, we would have stuck to San Diego, built up our business, tighten our belts in anticipation of the bubble that's about to burst in the real estate market, and squirrel away our resources to travel on senior discounts in our "Golden Years".

Screw smart.

And luckily, Tom agreed with me. Although it took some lobbying on my part.

I was the one who first said: "Hey Tom, whadda think about getting an RV and taking off for a while?" It sort of grew from there, short trip morphing into journey with no return date. When asked when we'll be back, it's fun to answer: "Dunno".

It's fun not having to leave a new spot you're enjoying because your itineary is not to have an intinerary. It's fun to look at a map and say: "Hey, let's turn south and check this out!" And it's so great to be able to turn around if it turns out: "Jeeze, this place sucks".

Okay, so why did we do it? What turned us into gypsies?

Tom's not as introspective as I am. He moves without exactly understanding why, at times. And he's really not interested in hearing my theory about his motivation. (Jim: "It's because your father never played ball with you". Tom: "Shuddup".)

Let's start with my big reason and then I'll throw in a few supplementals.

As a kid, more than once I heard my mother say: "When we retire, we'll travel". Sometimes I'd hear an elaboration on that plan. "When we retire, we'll spend half our time in Duluth and the rest of the year in San Diego."

She sure deserved it.

Just raising my sister Jackie entitled my mom to a year-long cruise in a stateroom with a balcony. Add rearing Ken, Cathy and me--plus some lean years getting by raising a family of six on a middle manager's salary--and she totaled up some gold stars. With bonus points for Jack.

I wish she had cashed in. Instead, she died.

And not by a quick, bouncing blow from a truck. She got lung cancer at age 60, and then it moved to her brain and although she should have died as quickly as Peter Jennings...hello & good-bye...she didn't.

She just went down hill, a long gradual slide which turned a woman who laughed into one who never smiled; bald, wasted, laying in front of the television set, listening to the laugh track of happy folks cracking up at Hawkeye Pierce on MASH re-runs.

Why is it obituaries, which I love to read for some reason (I'll introspect about that later) invariably say of a cancer victim, that the deceased "battled" cancer, usually in a long, drawn out epic fight. "Take that you nasty cancer!" Whap. Whap.

I'm sure there are some cancer warriors. But my mom wasn't one of them.

She fought the disease when it attacked her lung but she pretty much gave up when it went to her head. And then, on top of that, she got shingles which were painful to her and painful for us too because it hurt if you hugged her. No more hugs.

Hey God! She had to raise Jack, remember?

The warrior in this epic was my dad. He bought books about cancer and pestered doctors and retired early so he could be mom's caregiver, refusing to take a even one day away from her, saying "There will be time for that later".

No, no. "Later" was supposed to mean half the time in Duluth and half in San Diego.

Turns out later for them meant eight years of dealing with the "Big C". Dad duke-ing it out; Mom wasting away, never enjoying even one week of her "Golden Years". And Dad's "Golden Years"? He spent them missing her.

And then he died.

CLICK to go back to top

The moral ladies and gentlemen: Spend your bonus points before you're dealt a bad hand.

And that's the big reason I lobbied Tom to get the heck outta Dodge. "We're healthy, we can afford it, we're as free of responsibility as we're ever going to get. Ain't no time like NOW."

And the other reasons?

A healthy dose of wanderlust. Hiking with my dad as a kid, he loved to to check out what was "just around the bend". And he loved long car trips.

And he would have loved this RV. So I'm taking him along on this trip and we talk about the fun we're having.

I'm spending his bonus points and I know he's watching...along with Mom next to him on the couch. (Although, she doesn't approve of the nudity at Hippy Hollow.)

If he thought about it, Tom would probably agree he's taking his folks on this trip too.

He never reminisces about Christmas or childhood birthdays. And outside of the day he got his first piano, the only pleasant youthful experience he'll talk about (not counting the day his mother's home-brewed beer blew up in the closet) is the cross-country trip his family took when he was seven.

In a travel trailer. For seven weeks.

Dad, Mom, Tom, Joan and Donnie drove from Montreal down into the States, across the Southwest, up the Pacific Coast and relocated in Vancouver.

If I had to share a car with big sister Jackie for that long, my trip stories would include a few screaming matches.

But I've never heard Tom say one bad word about his famiy's journey across America. It was an adventure of wholeness and good, exploring new sights, looking forward to a new life...together. (A dream that wasn't realized.)

Any other reasons?

Yeah. Like I said at the beginning.

Because we could.

So far, so good

Rock out before
it's time to
sit & rock!

"A 'be back' place." San Carlos, Mexico

Some fuzzy creatures.

"Freedom is not having to shave." Abraham Lincoln

Queen, 1948, on mine tour in Bisbee, Az