I have said often recently that retirement is scarier than anything I've ever done. I don't have anything to fall back on, nor do I have anyone to fall back on like I did when I graduated from high school.

This sculpture is in Lila's funeral home. She said that it is me and her (I know, it should be "it is she and I") when we get old. I think we're there. If not, we're on the threshold. If I could be this happy in my retirement, it would be grand.

Whenever I look at these flashy women, I always think of Aunt Marilyn. Her daughter said that her mother was into flash trash. It's what made her a character. I wish I had the self-confidence to be a character. Life would be more fun, and I would hope that I would put more smiles on people's faces.

I look back on meals at Grandma Jones's house when some of the older people came and told funny--I mean hilarious stories. Thinking about it, I might believe there was some exaggeration, but I loved those stories!! One particular Thanksgiving, Aunt Sis, Grandma, and one of Grandma's friends Goldey Cassidy had everyone laughing so much we cried. I wish I could remember the sayings Grandma would use. I can't even remember a too many of the stories. Why didn't I write those precious stories down? Grandma had a mischievous side to her. I know she led a hard life, but she made some great memories.

Life would be great if from now on I could just hear funny stories. Unfortunately, I know I have many obstacles to conquer before I get to those days. I know if I could find a sugar daddy, retirement wouldn't be such a nightmare.

Well, it's beginning to feel like the first day of school. Fall feels like it is just around the corner, the green is fading from the trees and ground cover, and it is getting cooler in the evening. There is a smell that is difficult to explain, but each year around this time, it appears. When the wind blows, the leaves rattle. I am ready to give up the carefree days of summer. The swimming pool doesn't seem as inviting. I want to wear those new fall clothes that I bought a few weeks ago. And most of all, I'm ready to see the friends at school that I haven't talked to all summer.

But to be real, I've been in school for over two weeks. Those hot days of summer don't matter any more because air-conditioned schools have become the norm. I don't feel like I'm ready to go back to school early in August, and by the looks of it, I'll probably be starting even earlier next year. A balanced school year has become the new way of education. Parents are loving it. I just wonder how many times I'll have to plan lessons for kids who will be going on vacation with their families. Heavens forbid if the family has to change.

Back in the day, Labor Day was the focus point. We were ready to go back to school. Vacation time was done. Many of the vacation destinations were closing up. Theme parks would only have weekend hours. State parks stopped charging at the gate, and few people went camping. No more lifeguards were on duty at the lake. Oh, how the times have changed.

How will the kids of this time remember summer and school? Many of them will not even look forward to the summer because they will be in school. Gosh, many of them have been going to school since before they could remember. No wonder school is not exciting to the kindergartners. Pre-school--which they would call school--began for some at age two.

I'm glad when I grew up; however, if I were growing up today, I'd look back on this time as being the best. But then again, maybe not. I liked those long months of summer!!

Does anyone recognize this? It is the House of the Seven Gables, the inspiration for the novel by Nathaniel Hawthorne.

When I think of Nathaniel Hawthorne, I actually think of a vacation back in 1999 when my mom, dad, sister, and I went east. We were in Concord where there is a little cemetery called Sleepy Hollow Cemetery with an area called "Authors Ridge." In that area Nathaniel Hawthorne, Henry David Thoreau, Louisa May Alcott, and Ralph Waldo Emerson and their families are buried there.

Mom, Suzi, and I took a walk up the path to see where all of these were buried. I was in the lead, and I met a couple of ladies taking pictures of the Louisa May Alcott plot. They had recently discovered that they were directly related to the family. We talked for a while, but soon we were joined by Mom and Suzi.

One of the Alcott ladies asked, "Are you related?" Of course, they meant related to the Alcotts, but Mom said, "Why, yes, we are." The other two ladies looked excited because they thought they had just been reunited with three living relatives. Mom said, "These are my two daughters." As the Alcott ladies lost their excitement, I explained what they had actually meant. We quickly went on to Hawthorne's gravesite.

This past July, Suzi and I went to another Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, but it was in Sleepy Hollow, NY, just north of Tarrytown, where Washington Irving spent his last years.

It may sound like I'm obsessed with famous dead people. I am in a way. There is something about being where a famous person lived, walked, and/or worked. I especially enjoy visiting authors' places. As an English teacher, I've read about many of them. Even though I don't have the talent any of them had, it just makes me inspired.

Coming soon--could it be Mark Twain? Edgar Allen Poe? Who knows?

That Old Time Feeling

This is the little country church that I've been attending since the first of the year. It is called Mud Pike American Baptist Church. It has a very small congregation. Many times only nine people are in attendance. I started going there because I was invited by the father of my best friend.

Even though I was baptized in the First Christian Church, a Disciples of Christ church, I've attended many different churches since I left my hometown. I tried to find a Disciples of Christ, but driving over 30 minutes to get to the church did not appeal to me. I've attended Catholic Churches with friends. I really like their traditions, but I was never interested in turning Catholic. I just like learning about different religions and their customs. If I attended church in town, I normally went to the Methodist Church. None of them gave me the feeling I used to have growing up.

When I went to the Mudpike Baptist, I was warmly welcomed. Of course, they all knew me because I'd had their kids in school. It took a while to shake the "teacher" they saw and just become someone who came to church. I listened to the most amazing minister. He was really windy, and he could have cut the time of the prayers. The prayers almost became a mini-sermon. He was African-American. Very odd for a county which is nearly 100% Caucasian--even though that is changing. Pastor Lyons gave such a sermon that it made me feel more at peace inside myself. I felt like I understood myself more and was able to be more peaceful with myself, and most importantly more understanding with my students. I only missed three Sundays, and that was because I was at a conference or on a vacation.

Many Sundays I could have stayed at home, but I didn't want to disappoint my friend who always said, "See you at church tomorrow." But you know, it wasn't just for him. It was for me. I didn't think my week was complete without my Sunday dose of Pastor Lyons' words.

Like everything, church has changed. Pastor Lyons "resigned." He drove every Sunday over 80 miles from Louisville to preach, but the attendance wasn't growing. He had been up against race cultures as well as country/city cultures. It didn't matter that his words applied to all. Sometimes Christians don't behave like Christians. Therefore, two weeks ago he spoke for the last time at the little country church.

The doors of Mud Pike American Baptist church are not far from closing for the last time. It will be a sad day.

Choppy Waters Ahead

Hurricane Irene is bearing down on the east coast. I love being around water, but I do believe that hurricanes would make me very nervous. In 2008 Hurricane Ike came through southern Indiana. We missed two or three days of school, and many were without electricity for over a week. If that is what a hurricane can do for the Midwest, hold on East Coast!

This picture was taken in Boothbay, Maine. We stayed right on the water. It wasn't like Murder, She Wrote, but it was still fun. Everyone back here in Indiana asked if I enjoyed the lobster. I guess I should have tried it, but I never had a bite of lobster while I was there. Believe me, I had plenty of opportunities to eat lobster. Lobster rolls were more popular than hamburgers. One time I was in New Orleans and wasn't ready to eat all that spicy, fishy food. I ordered a steak. When it arrived at the table, I asked for a steak knife. It was late at night; therefore, I could hear the noise in the kitchen. I could hear drawers opening and shutting. Soon the waiter returned and apologized because the restaurant didn't have a steak knife. Now, if I'd asked for a crab breaker-thing, they could have brought out buckets of them. That experience should have taught me to eat the local cuisine, but I guess I'm a slow learner.

Batten down the hatches, folks.

Wow, I'm on a roll!!

This picture is so funny. It looks like I'm crawling along someone's tombstone. Getting older has made it more difficult to get into more appropriate positions. Plus when someone else is taking the picture, it is difficult for me to know what is actually going to be in the picture. I don't know who I needed to prove that I had actually been at the easternmost point in the USA.

For a while I waved in every picture that was taken of me. Then a nephew-in-law made some sort of comment, and I decided I needed to change my look. My dad used to always stand sideways. We could watch his belly grow and reduce. I never knew why he liked that position.

I hate pictures of myself, primarily because when I look into a mirror, I see a different person. Then when I see a picture, I am confused. Which do I really look like--the picture or the mirror reflection. I sure wish it would be the mirror reflection. She looks better. I also have gray hair--easily seen in the pictures. But it is so strange. In the mirror, I can't tell that my hair is gray. I don't care that it is gray. I just wish that I could see it.

One nice--and maybe sad--aspect about digital pictures is that many of them will be lost and never be seen because they stay on a computer or disk that will be outdated, probably not in the far off future. Paper pictures that used to be stored in photo books or in the back of the drawer will surface more. It's always fun--and funny--to see some of those old pictures. The new generations will lose out on that experience. Sure some digital pictures are printed off, but those goofy ones won't be. Those are the ones that make me laugh.

I've tried to figure out how to put another picture on here in this spot, but my pictures always go to the top. That's another problem with technology. In the old days, I'd just tape a picture wherever I wanted it!!

Long time gone, but I'm here.

I did get to take a vacation this year, and I had fun, actually. There is an inside joke about the "actually" that my sister would understand. It wouldn't be funny to anyone else.

Families are good for inside jokes. We don't have to explain our thoughts. A simple word can make thoughts rush in. Maybe we all understand each other because we have genes in common. I don't know. All I know is that it's nice to have others who can accept me for who I am. It's a comfort.

I always wanted to be a member of a large family. My mom felt sorry for me in a way because I wanted that picture perfect family, and it just wasn't going to happen. I wanted to have lots of aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews--and yes, it would have been nice to have had children of my own. Holidays would have been hectic. I think that would have been fun. And there would have been many more inside jokes.

By the way, Sisser... Can you tell that story again about lobsters? It was very interesting. And then after that one, how about the one about the gas mileage and a Hummer.

Families and inside jokes are great...and funny, actually.