Nowhere is Home
As I end my long middle period, I have begun thinking of places I might want to ‘retire’.
For a good while, I looked forward to retirement. I will be eligible at my work in another year and a half.
I made it into a fantasy of not working, thinking of all the articles and commercials and the rest of the elderly industry’s propaganda, all created to convince me that I would live a better life by not going to work and enjoying the fruits of my labor.
My job is not easy, but I don’t dread going.
I have realized, realistically, that I have no fruits of my labor.
I have owned two houses. Two divorces took care of them.
So I wonder what lies ahead and it scares me.
When I allow myself to dream, I imagine two places to go and live out my days (this means not going nuts, not losing my mind and memory, or dying in a nursing home), but peacefully trying to write, trying to sit down and enjoy the silence finally.
One is north to northeast New Mexico. I had the good fortune to spend a lot of time alone at a beautiful old ranch in the Mora Valley. I have written of it before. The Sapello River runs through it and there is a beauty and a sense of peacefulness that I am not sure I will find anywhere else.
A little cabin large enough for my books and stereo (not being selfish, but I am not hopeful I will have a partner in this), a piece of land large enough for a garden, a short walk, and a dog.
It snows up there. The wind reigns much of the year. Medical care is sparse.
The wind whispers poetry. The culture is old and medical care is remarkably difficult to get in Santa Fe like pretty much anywhere in this fading republic, so that isn’t part of the equation.
I could be close enough to make a half-day drive or less and see any remaining friends.
My other dream place is Sapelo Island (remarkably similar names, I know) in coastal Georgia. I have not been since 2016 and fear the entire area has become a huge South Korean battery factory.
Sapelo is magic, too. Great fresh seafood. Beautiful walks. The medical care is sparse and the culture has been horribly polluted by the demented ideas of Trumpist evangelicals.
There is peace there, too.
Smarter, more hopeful, people than I write about this type of thing on Substack. The population here is full of mostly (apparently, at least) rich people dedicated to sobriety and enjoying the fruits of their labor because they got lucky, or never made mistakes or married well.
The trick is to manage things so that you make them happen instead of them happening to you.
It is a trick I hope I master.
I think I would vote for northeast New Mexico. Georgia islands have been discovered.
You have to imagine what is the worst thing that could happen to you. And it really isn’t that bad. If you go remote, then you give up medical care as we know it in the cities, but is that so bad? You die a year or two early. You can still be grateful for what you had and for how long you had it. When you come down to it, it is remarkable how little you really need to enjoy a full life. I might ask for a library, but otherwise the cabin in the woods sounds like more than enough. And an attractive neighbor to stop by and bring me a croissant for breakfast.