Today we moved out of the motorhome and into the Jeep. Well, for a day
anyway. We get the coach back each night, to give it up again the next
morning. Moving into our car, but not as granddaughter Teigan envisions. Lying on the floor a couple weeks ago, having a late night, I’m not tired
and don’t want to go to bed conversation with Teigan, she asked: (you have
to read this in a tiny, carefully enunciated, four-year-old voice) “Grandpa,
why did you choose to move into your motorhome?” “We thought it would be fun.” (Remember the voice) “I don’t think it would be fun to live in my car.” Moving into the car, but not quite as Teigan envisions.
Bend
We celebrated an anniversary recently. November 1st, one year full-timing
in the motorhome. Three months of that in the new one.
Bend
Familiar places and names along the way. We didn’t drive by the Carroll
Park house, but we did stop in front of Grandma Taylor’s old house. The
small grass slope we used to roll down in the front yard to the sidewalk has
been reconfigured and is now a garden behind a retaining wall. The garages
are still out back but look better than they used to. The old apartment
building is still across the alley. In Northern California we see familiar place names on the map, Jedediah
Smith, McArthur Burney Falls, Susanville. Names we associate more with our
parent’s trips than our own. Northern California, halfway through Oregon, rain all day, snow at the
higher elevations, broken concrete gave way to asphalt north of Redding.
Bumpy asphalt gave way to smooth asphalt at the Oregon line. Settled in at
Villa Grove, south end of Bend, Rags the cat ensconced at the cat hotel,
motorhome ready to give up to the Beaver Shop on the north end of Bend
tomorrow morning. They’re going to change the couch out for us and fix a
few things. Can’t have the cat wandering in and out of the coach while
they’re working on it. Annie can stay with us, wherever that is.
Helen
Some days are better than others, but generally Helen is upbeat. We might
imagine ourselves sliding in sideways to the finish, or at least kicking and
screaming on the way out, but in reality, we often meet the end with calm
resignation, even a sense of relief that it has finally arrived. Helen
appears to have been prepared for this event for years, and is just ready
for it to be over. Remember the scene in Little Big Man where the old
Indian climbs to the top of the mountain, declares it to be a good day to
die, lies down on his back to wait, and wait, and wait? Then it starts to
rain. He finally has to get up and walk back to camp. Sometimes it doesn’t
happen quite as we would plan, or when we’re ready. We don’t know how much longer Helen has, but she is in a nice facility, well
cared for, and well medicated. She will be reasonably comfortable while she
waits.
Redding
101, 680, toll bridge, 680, 80, 505, to interstate 5 north. Didn’t have to
go through San Francisco or Sacramento. Split the difference. Sign in a window (a motorhome window): “Warning! Retired, knows it all,
has plenty of time to tell you about it.” That’s what I want to be when I
grow up. Easy day overall. Stopped at Premier Resorts RV Park in Redding. We like
it here. Crawling with white-crowned sparrows. Hadn’t picked up a new bird
since October 2. Walked around the park and picked up three new ones:
Nuttall’s woodpecker, oak titmouse, golden crowned sparrow. I really like
this place. Tomorrow, Bend.