Falling Into Summer Vacation

The original departure date to leave from Spring Hill, FL, to Rapid City, SD, was marked as September 22, the first day of fall. After careful thought, a mere four days prior to that date, it changed. First it became a day earlier on Sunday. A day later the final decision had been made for the 20th.

The reason centered on the realization that if someone should ask “What did you do on your summer vacation?” I’d have to say it didn’t happen. So, although it was at the tail end of the season, the departure date had been changed to avoid a disclaimer explaining why it I had no summertime views of this land of natural wonders.

With a little stretch of the true facts, I can now say that I vacationed in the summer and the fall!

Still Depooperating

What an exciting, relaxing visit to South Dakota has been. Two full weeks among the Black Hills and all the wonderful sights that invigorated my already love and appreciation of nature had to be left behind as the inevitable return to my home and cats (actually, not in that order!) crept up with reality.

All went pretty well on the trip to the northern plains of America. I suppose I was very fortunate to have found motels along the way that were very accommodating for periods of badly needed rest. Sleeping in comfortable quarters surely made the days’ driving of a few hundred miles kept my mind and body well prepared for the exciting weeks ahead.

But, oh, those three nights spent heading back to Florida wore me down far beyond the energy that kept my being ready for one adventure after another. It was a far cry from the nights spent in the cabin at the base of the Hills.

Body aches from not-to-comfortable beds and by the time I finally reached the final destination in my round trip visit, I returned to find myself too pooped to do much other than wait for the time when I would regain my energy level. And it hasn’t quite yet achieved that degree of energy needed to get the groove back to attend to household chores and yard maintenance.

Fortunately, the house was left in a near perfect condition and with two cats for a neighbor to care for and the grass grew very little with the typical shortage (none) of rainfall. Roy, the Good Samaritan who actually thanked ME for allowing HIM to feed, clean the litter box and enjoy their company, even mowed the yard shortly before I got back just to even it off!

I had left Roy with a moderately money-filled debit card as a token gesture of appreciation for the duties he gleefully accepted. The day before I got back he used a bag of cat food ($7.95 plus tax) to make sure there wouldn’t be an immediate need for me to rush to Wal-Mart to keep the little critters’ appetite fulfilled! When I handed the card back to him after he welcomed us back and returned the key that gave him access to the backyard, he claimed he wasn’t sure it was meant as compensation for his maintenance fees. And yet, he was well aware of my intention the card was his to use as he wished.

(Roy keeps a key to the house in his possession at all times, just in case there’s ever an emergency where his assistance is needed when I’m delayed or unable to be at home to tend to my own responsibilities. We have a great degree of trust between us.)

Part of my exhaustion comes from the days of return to Spring Hill but a good part of it can be attributed to those very cats, Elvis and Sassy, that I missed so very much. Elvis is fairly innocent in the matter but there’s a certain amount of belief that he may be the actual reason why Sassy is extremely persistent in making sure I get up at a specific hour for the morning feeding.

Most of the clothes have been returned to the closet and dresser drawers but the souvenirs and relished pieces of printed materials, including brochures, sales receipts and bits of notes I scribbled on pieces of paper, that will assist my memory sometime in the distant future are left for another day or week when I become completely depooperated.

No Rush to Rushmore

Come hell or high gas prices, the 30-year anniversary vacation has been set and the countdown ends with the departure on September 22 and the return a couple weeks later. It’ll be a vacation when friends and relatives will wait another year to reunite. (It's incidental that neice Heather and fiance Phil will draw the family brood from Michigan to Orlando for the blissful marriage that will undoubtably see them through their lives together. They will wed on Valentine's Day 2009.)

The first “private and personal” vacation was during my life in Southern California in the ‘80s. I visited Yosemite National Park shortly after Labor Day when most people have ended their summer excursions and seen their kids back to school. Reservations weren’t required.

The peaceful solitude to explore the natural beauty of such a world treasure was the most memorable vacation up ‘til then. El Capitan and the Devil's Postpile were awesome. The nights were nippy. Rental rates were low. It was a leisurely vacation and the intimacy of other vacationers and local merchants rejuvenated this worker from life’s daily routines.

The next private vacation came in ’95 with a trip to the island of Kauai in Hawaii. It was kinda expensive but incremental savings over the previous year covered much of the costs so it was quicker, easier to pay down the balances due. The trip was taken the week following Thanksgiving and upon the arrival in Lihue it was evident that it would be much like the trip to Yosemite. Few people and, once again, nothing but friendly exchanges between vacationers and locals.

I felt I was being catered to as I primarily made daily adventures around the island, including views of Kauai from the cab of a helicopter, and some island hopping to the lava beds and farmlands on the Big Island. Their terrains are from different worlds!

This year, the vacation is a round-trip road trip to Mount Rushmore. The after-Labor Day vacation will have fewer crowds so that sense of camaraderie will again enhance the easy-going days of taking deep breaths of fresh air and the sighs of appreciation for the time to reflect, relax and easily relate to people and nature alike.

There’ll be the 19th Annual Buffalo Wallow Chili Cookoff in Custer National Park on September 28. The following day is the 43rd Annual Custer State Park Buffalo Roundup Day where “cowboys and cowgirls herd up 1,500 buffalo into corrals to be readied for the fall Buffalo Sale”. All this and the 3-day Buffalo Roundup Arts Festival to boot!

The following days will be filled with adventures in nature settings unique to the area. The Black Hills, The Badlands, Wind Cave National Park, a number of National Monuments and Memorials, the history of the Sioux Nation and Crazy Horse… And, of course, Mount Rushmore National Monument will be the highlight of just one small piece of American heritage.

Away we go! Freewheelin’ days straight ahead!

Although, come hurricane and high winds, the whole scenario changes.

Faux Pas To You, Too

There are times when I’ll come up with a response to a statement made by a salesman that kinda stops the conversation stone cold dead as the other party has no idea what to say. The times are infrequent, or I just don’t remember other occurrences, but there are two that stand out that have happened during the last couple of years.

Carpet tracks

A door-to-door salesman knocked on the door along with his sidekick to demonstrate a top of the line vacuum cleaner. As they entered the house, a huge sealed box was carried inside. It appeared that attachments were easy to install as they pulled out piece by piece.

The main gimmick was the offer to shampoo a couple of rooms and a well-worn path down a hallway. Although the carpet was frequently attended too, a filter on the new cleaner clearly showed there was much more dirt embedded in the thick pile than what was picked up by the contraption I had used maybe three to four years.

The lead salesman made the statement that a good vacuum cleaner will leave wheel tracks in its path. I didn’t quite understand why he made mention of this but I made a simple words that “The cleaner I have still leaves tracks…” The young man just stared back at me, not knowing what to say, apparently never having had a prospective buyer make such a statement. The silence was profound until I assured him I was impressed with the quality cleaning performed by his merchandise.

The cleaner sold itself. With metal parts and little plastic, it will surely keep on going when I’m gone.


Bugging the technician

After a year of living in my home, it was time to renew the annual contract with a pest control company – the same one that originally treated the perimeter for subterranean termites. As the technician made his way around the house, I happened to be on the porch as he was spraying around the soffit and kindly asked him what he was doing. When he said he was treating around the house for other insects, I made the comment that I do it on a monthly basis with Home Defense and have no problems.

He stared at me, not sure if how to respond to a service that I hadn’t requested and may not need. The silence was finally broken when I made the evaluation that his chemical treatment would last longer than a consumer product and that it was okay to continue the work.

Me Too

True, I’ve also stood dumbfounded at a response that someone has made to a statement of mine. I know what it feels like to be in that situation, but it’s more fun when the other party takes the brunt of my response to their statement.

"What's Up, Doc?"........"Bugs for Dinner!!!"

Rabbit for dinner? It not only sounds good but it actually was quite a delicious meal as mom frequently cooked the meat during the fall hunting season in central Michigan. Dad and brother would spend a few hours on a brisk Sunday in the “back woods” taking pride in supplying food for the dinner table. A family of seven required a few of the fair game to fill the dinner plates.

Just as she prepared chicken, mom pan-cooked the skinned and gutted animals in a frying pan in a bit of water. The preparation without some type of oil may sound a little odd but once the meat was done the water was ready to be made into mouth pleasing gravy; the natural juices made the gravy exceptionally tasty.

With the typical mashed potatoes, fresh vegetables and browned crescent rolls it was a true home-cooked country meal. Now, as you picked the meat off the bones, you were aware and took heed to the fact that you had a fair chance of biting into a buckshot pellet.
The same went for pheasant, another creature of nature.

Since I was raised on these animals, I don’t remember them having a gamy taste. It was just plain good eatin’, unlike venison, which I could barely keep down. When mom said we were having “steak” for dinner, I learned not to make an assumption and had an immediate mood change when the aroma told me the truth of the meal.

As our Creator intended, sustaining life with the bounties of nature is man’s means to that end. Rabbit is fine, pheasant is too, but squirrel was another cherished item on an autumn menu. As to fattening these little creatures, just let them eat nuts.

In Memory of Decoration Day

I remember May 30th as being Decoration Day.

Attending a Memorial Service at church might start the day, then a parade at 10 a.m. with a great amount of chatter among the spectators along the route. A crowd began in front of the Bricks and Ivy of Dansville Agricultural High School, following a course that led to Howard Cemetery. Everyone was either a friend or a relative or an acquaintance that might become a neighbor. A 21-gun salute was followed with residents at the gravesites of loved ones.

There were floats, the Dansville High School Marching Band with majorettes twirling their batons, Girl and Boy Scouts, members of the 4-H Club, the Fire Department, and antique and convertible cars that carried the Senior Prom couple. Horses and bikes decorated with patriot colors were also proudly placed in the procession. Every marcher had more than just a couple of hands waving to get their attentions.

At the lead were members of the V.F.W. Their banner was the American Flag.

History leads to May 5, 1868, when General John Logan proclaimed the 30th day of the month as a day set aside “for the purpose of strewing with flowers or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country during the late rebellion, and whose bodies now lie in almost every city, village, and hamlet churchyard in the land”. General Logan was the national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, a fraternal organization whose members were veterans of the Union Army that had served in the American Civil War. Thus became Decoration Day.

Understandably, Southern states did not acknowledge the day.

The alternate name Memorial Day began as early as 1882 and became more accepted following WWII. It was the local veterans of that war who worked at the Oldsmobile plant in Lansing, that helped introduce the new name to our community. Union labor groups played a part in further popularizing the name.

After WWI, it became a day to honor all Americans who died fighting in any and all wars. It wasn’t until 1968 that “Memorial Day” became the official name when Congress passed legislation that created the Uniform Monday Holiday Act; the effective date was January 1, 1971, making this, along with Washington’ Birthday, Columbus Day and Veterans Day, three-day Federal holidays.

For many, Memorial Day also marks the beginning of summer vacations.

In 1968, the hundredth anniversary of the beginning of Decoration Day, time still honored the age-old tradition in small communities, such as where I called home in my teenage years. Flowers were often grown in people’s gardens, perhaps an original arrangement crafted by a neighbor and proudly placed on the graves of the fallen. The American Flag also adorned the gravesites. The display of bright colors accented the Red, White and Blue.

A gathering of friends and families with a barbecue in the afternoon finished the day. At that time, a three-day weekend was infrequent, which helped mark it as a special day of patriotic tribute. The new millennia may once again put the true meaning of Memorial Day in our lives as we the honor those who gave their lives during the war in Iraq. As in the past, these soldiers, and others who have defended the freedoms of every American, deserve being remembered.

A soldier’s grave should be decorated, as were their uniforms with Medals of Honor.

And the survey says....

How did I get here from there? Perhaps it was dumb luck. Or maybe it was thoughtful rationality towards saving and planning, although in all honesty I can’t really give myself credit in that respect.

I have to come to the conclusion that, after working for 15 years, I took a modest plunge into my employer’s 401(k). I had no oversight from the company and surely no guidance from my parents. Dad was a farmer. Although he worked long and hard days and at times in the dark of night to maintain his dad’s and granddad’s many years of building the family assets, profitability was much less than it had been during the past generations. In part, our family’s financial security was reliant on the glory years for small farmers.

I am now semi-retired, having made an early exit from the stresses of dealing with a corporate mindset that takes a good chunk out of personal tranquility. Rather than accept a monthly retirement check, I made the choice for a full payout of all of the moneys due me. There was no dipping into the funds for some frivolous spending. An agent with Raymond James provided me with a variety of options for investment. I felt comfortable with all of his recommendations as I pointed out my financial goals. His assurance that they were attainable as he explained the choices gave me comfort that I could realize a sense of security as I grew older. A quick call to the agent to review the investments would result in a little tweaking in the direction of

During the same period in time, I was able to make the final payment on the mortgage of my home with the help of an inheritance from both of my parents’ deaths some 10 years prior. The sum was not huge considering the five children in the family but I had made sure not to squander the funds.

Rather than taking pride in the achievement of being nearly debt-free, it was a feeling of relief knowing the largest financial weight was off my back. Sister Sue commended me with the statement, “I don’t know anybody who doesn’t have a mortgage.”

For the time being living in Spring Hill, FL, in a new home after having sold the home in Orlando, squeaking by financially as my budget has been redirected from some discretionary spending due to rising prices of the basics of life as we know it in America. There’s some minor debt but nothing that can’t be resolved in a reasonable amount of time with some thanks for the 1.99% interest fee on a credit card. It’s always those unexpected expenses that lead to the temptation, and eventual use, of plastic money.

With all of this taken into consideration, I don’t feel secure in my long-term financial reckonings. The investments of the past five years have done very well, ranging from 12% to 20% of increased moneys. The downturn in the economy has eaten away a good chunk of those earnings but the overall picture still finds me with reasonable gains.

So, with my modest acquisition of savings and investments, including an annuity that will never loose value (really?), I find myself in a unique and disbelieving situation where I am in a class with the so-called well-to-do citizens in these United States. I am among the segment of 12% of the population with the most funds for retirement.

These figures present the findings of the 2008 Retirement Confidence Survey are extremely alarming for the majority of Americans. Roughly 61% have less than $50,000 in funds. In 2007, the figure was somewhat less at 58% and 2006 showed 65%. Today, a whopping 69% of existing retirees fit into the same category.

In spite of what appears to be my relative “wealth”, I place myself among the 21% of workers who are “Not Too Confident” of having enough money to life comfortably throughout retirement. 43% are somewhat confident and a mere 18% are very confident.
The remainder who are not at all confident is 16% - realism makes me believe perhaps I should be among this group of citizens.


This website will give you a multitude of survey results:
http://www.ebri.org/pdf/briefspdf/EBRI_IB_04-2008.pdf