Well, I’m down in Carolina for about a month now. On a calendar it might not seem like much time but, I realized, over the last few days that all the changes, well beyond anything geographical, have been very dramatic, may be profound and, hopefully everlasting. I usually lean toward slow and steady changes that advance only with time. Looking back, I may be wrong.
My first hint, besides total strangers saying hello and talking with me (I still can’t get used to someone like me, an old poop, being called sir), was visiting Cary’s “Lazy Days” or was it “Cary Days” or “daze” (It doesn’t matter). The mere idea of closing down most of the downtown area for something like this was almost beyond my comprehension! Aside from that, I found myself amid those 50,000 or so people, waiting patiently and silently for someone, ahead of me, to move out of the center of the lane. Back North, I’d be saying, with great vigor, “EXCUSE ME!” But I didn’t. I wasn’t even getting impatient! What’s happened to me? Despite the sea of humanity, air of humidity and discomfort of sweaty clothing, it was a wonderful day.
I had further evidence of my new, southerned infused, less stressed, life style. That took the form of something as simple as a haircut. During the Cary Days fair I found an honest to God, no frills, barber shop. That’s a dying breed in New Jersey. Up there all you’ll find are hair stylists and salons. Stylists and salons allow you to do two things: Call two weeks ahead for an appointment, three weeks if you want a specific person, and paying 40 dollars extra for the privilege. I walked in, sat down and was treated as if I’d been coming in there since I was seven years old.
Then there was the young man, coming home from work, while I was at the barbeque area, who started to talk to me like we were old buds. We spoke of the local job market, the good fishing areas, why you don’t take golf seriously. Just like we had been friends for years.
Yesterday was my sternest test. I found out that I may be the victim of identity theft., In my former, northeastern life, I would have been a nut case, ending in the ER with highly elevated stress levels and blood shooting out my ears. That didn’t happen! I just went about my business to start to get that mess straightened out. No yelling, no screaming…… just get it straightened out. Having a really remarkable lady by my side sure does help a lot. I know for sure that she’s higher on the food chain than I am.
The final hint was a quick five second moment. I was putting gas in the car. That in itself is something new to me. In Jersey, we can pay God-awful taxes, put up with rampant corruption, run large companies, make millions on wall street, maybe even be the inspiration for the Soprano’s, but we’re not allowed to pump our own gas. Anyway, I got out of the car, started the process and looked over to someone doing the same thing. I nodded and, without thinking, without a hint of satire, but with true feeling of friendship , I smiled and said, “how ya’all doin?” I'm home.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
The Hunt Begins: Release the Hounds!
OK…. I’m now retiring and I’ve decided to move out of New Jersey, the land of milk and ornery. To top it all off Kat decided to go with me! Praise Jesus! Now all I needed was a final destination.
If I had any second thoughts about all of this, it ended about three days after my decision to get out of NJ. I went into a store…….. I’ll leave out the name to protect the guilty. Anyway, I couldn’t find what I was looking for. I came across a store associate. For those of you who don’t know, a “store associate” is a politically correct way of describing a worker who talks to themselves saying, "Lehman Brothers my ass!". Anyway, I walked up to that person and waited to get her attention. She finally looked at me and……JESUS! She had a face on that made me think that someone had peed in her wheaties! "Yea........Whatta you want?" I was so stunned I just mumbled, “Never mind”, and walked away thinking, “DAMN! That woman owns flying monkeys and she isn’t afraid to use them!”
The destination should be ruled by those things we want out of life. So Kat and I sat down and tried to figure out just what we were looking for, as far as a new place to live is concerned. It turned into a very short list.
A slower life style. I wasn’t looking for comatose, but I don’t want a defibrillator to make a deadline…….”CLEAR!” ZAP……..”OK get me that report!”
A gentle balance between country living and access to various activities. I want peace and quiet but I don’t want a five hour trip to go to a flea market.
Affordability. That’s easy. I’m coming from the northeast for Christ sakes!
A place to make new friends. You know………somewhere that, if you say hello, to someone you don’t know, it doesn’t prompt sour looks, at best and a 911 call at worse!
Someplace where I won’t hear phrases like “wellness”, “alternate life style”, “upwardly mobile” or “my bad”. Whoever came up with “my bad” should be thrown from a cliff and dashed on the rocks below. As his lifeless body finally comes to a stop, I want to look down, smile and mutter “my bad”
As it turned out, it proved to be an easier choice than I expected. I just let the other regions of the country eliminate themselves.
New England? Nope! Wrong! Beautiful Autumns……..great forests……..but…………they keep electing Kennedys as well as Mr. Ed (Kerry) and New England is the setting for most of Stephen King’s novels. Besides, I don’t see waking up in the morning after a 36 inch snowfall to be a retirement goal.
I visited Alaska once, but the thought that the only way out of town is by sea planes a little daunting. We won’t even talk about winters with no sunlight!
How about California! What? You kidding? “Here…..pee in this cup cause you’re gonna take a drug test!” Those people don’t breathe the same air we do! You can ask Kat, people get upset because you’re "invading their space" and then they growl at you! Beam me up Scottie…….there’s no intelligent life down here!” They also have the Governator. “I'll be back....raising your taxes." Besides, it would be my luck to move in and WHAM the big 9.0 on the Richter scale and I don’t want a home built on land subject to epileptic fits.
How about the Southwest? Are you nuts? HOT-HOT-HOT!!!!! It’s 120 out there! “But, Fred, it’s a dry heat!” BULLS*&^ it’s 100 damn 20 out there!
There’s always Florida, right? Traditional land of retirees. Perfect, right? Yea, ask my Aunt. She had enough and left. She didn’t have too much trouble moving though. The 3 hurricanes that came through her town, in one season, moved most of her stuff for her. Mostly onto her neighbors’ front yard.
So…she moved north……………..to the south. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the whole idea. I went to college in eastern Tennessee and liked it a lot. Mild winters, nice people, slower pace. Yea, it’s humid in the summer, but that’s what air conditioning is for. Wait! That was in the 70’s. It has to have changed, right? Well, it has, somewhat. There has been an influx of disposed, escaped prisoners of Stalag Northeast, like me.
Thank God they haven’t screwed this region up the way they have the Northeast. Please understand, Northeasterners are like seagulls. They usually find something nice, come swooping in, yell and squawk and scream, crap all over everything then fly away.
I think that hasn’t happened because of the true, life-long southerners. True southerners have come a long way in a relatively short time. This is a much different land from than that of the 50’s and 60’s. Their evolution is steady and remarkably quick, given the slower constitution of their lifestyle.
What I find truly wonderful is that all these changes have come about, without forgetting what came before, both the good and the bad. That’s about as different from the Northeast as you can get. We Northeast chowder heads view our past, greatly assisted by Northeastern Media, as if we just found snot on our fingers!...... We can’t get it off of us fast enough!
To a northerner (I really mean a Northeasterner) we can’t wait to forget our past. To paraphrase Dorothy Parker… (Our past) is something that shouldn’t be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force. I’m not saying that the south is for everyone, but it’s for me and that’s where I decided to go. North Carolina, here I come.
Hey Gang. Don’t be afraid to search for your greener pastures. Greener pastures can exist for you if you choose the area based on your preferences, your likes and dislikes and what you, realistically want out of life.
NEXT: Packing, visiting and moving – “Mommy, are we there yet”
If I had any second thoughts about all of this, it ended about three days after my decision to get out of NJ. I went into a store…….. I’ll leave out the name to protect the guilty. Anyway, I couldn’t find what I was looking for. I came across a store associate. For those of you who don’t know, a “store associate” is a politically correct way of describing a worker who talks to themselves saying, "Lehman Brothers my ass!". Anyway, I walked up to that person and waited to get her attention. She finally looked at me and……JESUS! She had a face on that made me think that someone had peed in her wheaties! "Yea........Whatta you want?" I was so stunned I just mumbled, “Never mind”, and walked away thinking, “DAMN! That woman owns flying monkeys and she isn’t afraid to use them!”
The destination should be ruled by those things we want out of life. So Kat and I sat down and tried to figure out just what we were looking for, as far as a new place to live is concerned. It turned into a very short list.
A slower life style. I wasn’t looking for comatose, but I don’t want a defibrillator to make a deadline…….”CLEAR!” ZAP……..”OK get me that report!”
A gentle balance between country living and access to various activities. I want peace and quiet but I don’t want a five hour trip to go to a flea market.
Affordability. That’s easy. I’m coming from the northeast for Christ sakes!
A place to make new friends. You know………somewhere that, if you say hello, to someone you don’t know, it doesn’t prompt sour looks, at best and a 911 call at worse!
Someplace where I won’t hear phrases like “wellness”, “alternate life style”, “upwardly mobile” or “my bad”. Whoever came up with “my bad” should be thrown from a cliff and dashed on the rocks below. As his lifeless body finally comes to a stop, I want to look down, smile and mutter “my bad”
As it turned out, it proved to be an easier choice than I expected. I just let the other regions of the country eliminate themselves.
New England? Nope! Wrong! Beautiful Autumns……..great forests……..but…………they keep electing Kennedys as well as Mr. Ed (Kerry) and New England is the setting for most of Stephen King’s novels. Besides, I don’t see waking up in the morning after a 36 inch snowfall to be a retirement goal.
I visited Alaska once, but the thought that the only way out of town is by sea planes a little daunting. We won’t even talk about winters with no sunlight!
How about California! What? You kidding? “Here…..pee in this cup cause you’re gonna take a drug test!” Those people don’t breathe the same air we do! You can ask Kat, people get upset because you’re "invading their space" and then they growl at you! Beam me up Scottie…….there’s no intelligent life down here!” They also have the Governator. “I'll be back....raising your taxes." Besides, it would be my luck to move in and WHAM the big 9.0 on the Richter scale and I don’t want a home built on land subject to epileptic fits.
How about the Southwest? Are you nuts? HOT-HOT-HOT!!!!! It’s 120 out there! “But, Fred, it’s a dry heat!” BULLS*&^ it’s 100 damn 20 out there!
There’s always Florida, right? Traditional land of retirees. Perfect, right? Yea, ask my Aunt. She had enough and left. She didn’t have too much trouble moving though. The 3 hurricanes that came through her town, in one season, moved most of her stuff for her. Mostly onto her neighbors’ front yard.
So…she moved north……………..to the south. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the whole idea. I went to college in eastern Tennessee and liked it a lot. Mild winters, nice people, slower pace. Yea, it’s humid in the summer, but that’s what air conditioning is for. Wait! That was in the 70’s. It has to have changed, right? Well, it has, somewhat. There has been an influx of disposed, escaped prisoners of Stalag Northeast, like me.
Thank God they haven’t screwed this region up the way they have the Northeast. Please understand, Northeasterners are like seagulls. They usually find something nice, come swooping in, yell and squawk and scream, crap all over everything then fly away.
I think that hasn’t happened because of the true, life-long southerners. True southerners have come a long way in a relatively short time. This is a much different land from than that of the 50’s and 60’s. Their evolution is steady and remarkably quick, given the slower constitution of their lifestyle.
What I find truly wonderful is that all these changes have come about, without forgetting what came before, both the good and the bad. That’s about as different from the Northeast as you can get. We Northeast chowder heads view our past, greatly assisted by Northeastern Media, as if we just found snot on our fingers!...... We can’t get it off of us fast enough!
To a northerner (I really mean a Northeasterner) we can’t wait to forget our past. To paraphrase Dorothy Parker… (Our past) is something that shouldn’t be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force. I’m not saying that the south is for everyone, but it’s for me and that’s where I decided to go. North Carolina, here I come.
Hey Gang. Don’t be afraid to search for your greener pastures. Greener pastures can exist for you if you choose the area based on your preferences, your likes and dislikes and what you, realistically want out of life.
NEXT: Packing, visiting and moving – “Mommy, are we there yet”
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Todays' counsel: The Prelude to a new life
This really began in late February, 2009. From this point forward, my feet were firmly planted on the path to retirement and Southern Living.
I was always targeting 2014 as my retirement year. Then again, I thought I'd be independently wealthy by age 50. That goal was about as accurate as one of my golf shots.
At the new year I began to sense all wasn't right in working-land. I had worked for 34 years at the same place but now I was working for a new boss. My previous Director had always exhibited a confidence in me to do the right thing, make the right decisions and see things through to the end. When I was introduced to new employees it was always, "This is Fred Goddard, if you want something done, he's the guys you talk to." Things were different now. Next to "micro manager" in the dictionary was this new guys picture. I'm going to be diplomatic and just say we didn't see eye-to-eye. Then again, if I wasn't going to be diplomatic, I'd use terms as "my way or the highway", insecure, control freak, anti-high seniority people, and vindictive. But heaven only knows I am the soul of diplomacy!
By early March I had turned into Peter Finch in "Network": "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!!! My Boss came into my office one day, threw a paper clip on the desk in front of me and almost yelled, "Don't order these paper clips anymore..... I don't like them and don't order the kind that has the little ridges either!" I thought he was kidding! He wasn't. I'm left thinking, you're the Director of a department at a college that is responsible for a 5 million dollar budget, plus capital projects, and you're pissed about a 29 cent box of paperclips?
One morning, I was sitting at my desk and he walked in and started talking at me. Please note the word "at" instead of "to". Anyway, about 5 seconds into the conversation (one way, of course) all I was hearing was Charlie Brown"s teacher (wah-wah-wah-wah.....wah-wah). He left, I made one phone call, got up from my desk, walked down to Human Resources and put in my retirement papers, affective June 1, 2009.
I got home that evening and told my fiancee', Kat, what I did. If my Kat is anything, she is patient, especially with me. Sometimes, I'm not really sure why. Maybe it's because she understands me better than I understand myself. Maybe it's because that all she wants is what's best for us in the long run. then again, maybe it's because she was hit in the head by her sister, with a baseball bat, when they were kids!
She smiled. Gave me a hug and one of her great kisses and said, "Now what?"
I immediately felt like Dr. Frankenstein after his creation broke free, " Ok Doc, you made it, now whatcha gonna do?"
I came to me in about 3 seconds: Get the HELL outta Northern New Jersey! Leave behind the land of a population density equal to Hong Kong, the land of the 24 hour rat race, where everything has to be done yesterday, bumper-to-bumper traffic, obscenely high taxes and corruption so rampant, you have to pay someone off in order to stay honest.
The decision was made.......... move! MOVE! Go directly to move! Just pass go, collect your pension. I actually heard the voice from the Amityville Horror: "GET OUT!"
Now all I needed was a destination.
That's today's' lesson gang. If you're in your fifties and working has gotten to the point where it is a struggle just to leave the house, it affects your sleep, your every thought, you're health, maybe even your sanity then GET OUT! I was lucky, I had opted for a traditional pension plan through the state (yea.......I worked for a State College), but it really doesn't matter. don't wine to me about how your 401K has taken a bath lately. It doesn't matter. GET OUT while you can enjoy your life and retirement, before your boss, who's only out to make a name for himself, drives you to the clock tower with semi-automatic weapons, before they find you sitting in a corner, holding crayons in your toes and drooling on your self and a lobster bib becomes a necessary part of your daily wardrobe.
After all, you can always get a job at Home Depot driving the funky forklift: BEEP_BEEP! Watch it lady, I gotta pallet of toilet plungers comin through!
I was always targeting 2014 as my retirement year. Then again, I thought I'd be independently wealthy by age 50. That goal was about as accurate as one of my golf shots.
At the new year I began to sense all wasn't right in working-land. I had worked for 34 years at the same place but now I was working for a new boss. My previous Director had always exhibited a confidence in me to do the right thing, make the right decisions and see things through to the end. When I was introduced to new employees it was always, "This is Fred Goddard, if you want something done, he's the guys you talk to." Things were different now. Next to "micro manager" in the dictionary was this new guys picture. I'm going to be diplomatic and just say we didn't see eye-to-eye. Then again, if I wasn't going to be diplomatic, I'd use terms as "my way or the highway", insecure, control freak, anti-high seniority people, and vindictive. But heaven only knows I am the soul of diplomacy!
By early March I had turned into Peter Finch in "Network": "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!!! My Boss came into my office one day, threw a paper clip on the desk in front of me and almost yelled, "Don't order these paper clips anymore..... I don't like them and don't order the kind that has the little ridges either!" I thought he was kidding! He wasn't. I'm left thinking, you're the Director of a department at a college that is responsible for a 5 million dollar budget, plus capital projects, and you're pissed about a 29 cent box of paperclips?
One morning, I was sitting at my desk and he walked in and started talking at me. Please note the word "at" instead of "to". Anyway, about 5 seconds into the conversation (one way, of course) all I was hearing was Charlie Brown"s teacher (wah-wah-wah-wah.....wah-wah). He left, I made one phone call, got up from my desk, walked down to Human Resources and put in my retirement papers, affective June 1, 2009.
I got home that evening and told my fiancee', Kat, what I did. If my Kat is anything, she is patient, especially with me. Sometimes, I'm not really sure why. Maybe it's because she understands me better than I understand myself. Maybe it's because that all she wants is what's best for us in the long run. then again, maybe it's because she was hit in the head by her sister, with a baseball bat, when they were kids!
She smiled. Gave me a hug and one of her great kisses and said, "Now what?"
I immediately felt like Dr. Frankenstein after his creation broke free, " Ok Doc, you made it, now whatcha gonna do?"
I came to me in about 3 seconds: Get the HELL outta Northern New Jersey! Leave behind the land of a population density equal to Hong Kong, the land of the 24 hour rat race, where everything has to be done yesterday, bumper-to-bumper traffic, obscenely high taxes and corruption so rampant, you have to pay someone off in order to stay honest.
The decision was made.......... move! MOVE! Go directly to move! Just pass go, collect your pension. I actually heard the voice from the Amityville Horror: "GET OUT!"
Now all I needed was a destination.
That's today's' lesson gang. If you're in your fifties and working has gotten to the point where it is a struggle just to leave the house, it affects your sleep, your every thought, you're health, maybe even your sanity then GET OUT! I was lucky, I had opted for a traditional pension plan through the state (yea.......I worked for a State College), but it really doesn't matter. don't wine to me about how your 401K has taken a bath lately. It doesn't matter. GET OUT while you can enjoy your life and retirement, before your boss, who's only out to make a name for himself, drives you to the clock tower with semi-automatic weapons, before they find you sitting in a corner, holding crayons in your toes and drooling on your self and a lobster bib becomes a necessary part of your daily wardrobe.
After all, you can always get a job at Home Depot driving the funky forklift: BEEP_BEEP! Watch it lady, I gotta pallet of toilet plungers comin through!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
The first steps are the hardest
Well, here we go. Imagine, me, in the blog world. A few short days ago I would have thought that an impossibility. But things change and we have to adapt, don't we.
I guess this would be a good time to create a statement of intent. OK, here we go: We the People, in order to form a more perfect union........... wait.... sorry....... that's been done before.
Let's try again. I was born, raised, formed, misformed and mismanaged in Northern New Jersey. Exactly one week ago, I moved to Cary, North Carolina. It's not a different world, it's not a different country, for someone born and bred in the American Northeast, it's a different planet.
That, my friends is exactly what I want to write about. That complete change of scenery that is moving to a new region of the country. There will also be a very healthy dose of my, sometimes warped, view of the world around me........ things I love, things I hate, things that drive me stone cold nuts.
This may end up to be a little edgy. After all, a northeast cynicism developed and cultivated over a 50+ year life span doesn't fall away like dried leaves in the fall. It may just have to evolve into extinction over a long period of time. Think of it as a literary Darwinism.
Now would be a good time to define myself for the readers. First, stupid things just drive me nuts. Stupid things in any way, shape and form. Next, I see myself as a Teddy Bear type of guy.... unfortunately this Teddy bear bites a little, but only in the things that drive me nuts. Finally, I was brought up in the Christian religion with an unrelenting religious tolerance. That being said I worship at the feet of the true Gods of the Curmudgeon. For those that may not know, a curmudgeon is not just some old fart who has a crumby disposition. The world class curmudgeon is someone who sees the real truth or the oddities in life and has the temerity to fully say something about it. I have my favorites, and I may be talking about each of them in the future. My Gods are: Dorothy Parker, Groucho Marx, Alexander Wollcott and H.L. Menchen.
Any one in this country, who was laid off and can't get back to work fast enough can truly appreciate what H.L. wrote, almost 100 years ago. "There comes a time, in every mans' life when he is tempted to roll up his sleeves, hoist the black flag and begin slitting throats."
Well, I guess that's it for starters. Let's take this ride together and see where it leads us. As that great Canadian philosopher and PBS staple, Red Green has said, "I'm pulling for you, We're all in this together."
I guess this would be a good time to create a statement of intent. OK, here we go: We the People, in order to form a more perfect union........... wait.... sorry....... that's been done before.
Let's try again. I was born, raised, formed, misformed and mismanaged in Northern New Jersey. Exactly one week ago, I moved to Cary, North Carolina. It's not a different world, it's not a different country, for someone born and bred in the American Northeast, it's a different planet.
That, my friends is exactly what I want to write about. That complete change of scenery that is moving to a new region of the country. There will also be a very healthy dose of my, sometimes warped, view of the world around me........ things I love, things I hate, things that drive me stone cold nuts.
This may end up to be a little edgy. After all, a northeast cynicism developed and cultivated over a 50+ year life span doesn't fall away like dried leaves in the fall. It may just have to evolve into extinction over a long period of time. Think of it as a literary Darwinism.
Now would be a good time to define myself for the readers. First, stupid things just drive me nuts. Stupid things in any way, shape and form. Next, I see myself as a Teddy Bear type of guy.... unfortunately this Teddy bear bites a little, but only in the things that drive me nuts. Finally, I was brought up in the Christian religion with an unrelenting religious tolerance. That being said I worship at the feet of the true Gods of the Curmudgeon. For those that may not know, a curmudgeon is not just some old fart who has a crumby disposition. The world class curmudgeon is someone who sees the real truth or the oddities in life and has the temerity to fully say something about it. I have my favorites, and I may be talking about each of them in the future. My Gods are: Dorothy Parker, Groucho Marx, Alexander Wollcott and H.L. Menchen.
Any one in this country, who was laid off and can't get back to work fast enough can truly appreciate what H.L. wrote, almost 100 years ago. "There comes a time, in every mans' life when he is tempted to roll up his sleeves, hoist the black flag and begin slitting throats."
Well, I guess that's it for starters. Let's take this ride together and see where it leads us. As that great Canadian philosopher and PBS staple, Red Green has said, "I'm pulling for you, We're all in this together."
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