"Life is what happens ..."

Dean died.

I closed on my Kansas City condo.

The movers will load my belongings in Champaign on December 16.

I'll pack up my dog and head west in my Subaru.

That's all.

And everything starts now.

Highs & Lows.

Several weeks have passed since I last wrote.  On the condo front, things continue to move forward.  I must say, the professionals I've worked with, including mortgage specialists, bankers, insurance professionals, realtors, have been exceptionally helpful and efficient.  I'm impressed and oh so grateful.

As of this writing, the closing is scheduled for next week.

I couldn't wait to tell my breakfast buddy about finding a condo so close to my family.  When I returned to my current home and expected to see him at breakfast (where we've been eating together every day for the past ten years), he wasn't there.  No worries, he probably has an appointment.

The next day, he still wasn't around.  He's running late, I thought.  Our mutual friend arrived and I could immediately see that something was terribly wrong.

While I was out of town, our friend had gone to the doctor for test results.  The results were not good.

More than three weeks have gone by.  My breakfast friend (really, so much more than that), has entered the hospital, has undergone humiliating and painful tests, and is now at the county nursing home.  His spirits are good, he is being well cared for, and he now know how many people  respect and love him.   

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to show him photos of the condo I hope to buy.  A smile!  A real smile along with a hearty grasp of my hand.

Healing.  For both of us.

  

Knowing what you want.

Last week I drove to Kansas City with a few good intentions:  see my family; visit friends; look for a condo I liked and could afford to buy; eat some fine food.

Happy to report, if only to myself, that my good intentions were rewarded. My friend, Greg, who I've known for nearly 30 years, invited me to stay at his home.  We went out to dinner when I arrived, down to the Boulevard at El Patron.  Good Mexican food and, lo, excellent El Jimador margaritas.

The next day I picked up my 97 year old, Aunt Charlotte, so she could join me and my realtor, in looking at condos.  It was a steamy, hot, KC August day and I didn't want Aunt Char to get tired and de-hydrated.  Fortunately, the first condo on my realtor's list was nearby and in the condo development I have always liked.

We walked into the condo and my aunt gasped (not for air, thankfully). The place was gorgeous and spotlessly clean. The seller is living there and her furniture is, let's just say, "high-end."  This condo "shows" great.

I've always known what I want.  I asked my realtor if she'd be upset if didn't look at any of the others on her list.  She said, "I thought you'd like this one."  We dropped Aunt Charlotte off at her apartment to get out of the summer heat and went back to my realtor's office.  A few hours later, after paperwork and meeting with a mortgage specialist, we made the offer.

All I know, is that the seller accepted the offer and we are going ahead with inspections and the appraisal. 

In a way, I can't believe it.  In another way, I knew this is where I wanted to be.

Fingers crossed.

   

    

Anne Lamott is wise.

Ever feel like you're one place but you'd really rather be someplace else?  I'm at my job, a wonderful job with terrific colleagues and interesting issues.  All good, right?

Yes, all good.  Except I'm having trouble focusing on what's now.  My thoughts keep drifting to December when I retire from my job and sometime after December, move back to Kansas City, my hometown.

So I think about, "Can I afford to buy a condo?"  "How will I get a loan if I don't have a job?"  "Will I get bored?"  "Will I find a place or niche to fit in?"  "Will I miss my life that I've lived for the past 20 years?"

Time will tell.  For now, I guess I'll just have to take it "bird by bird," as Anne Lamott advises.   

What's the rush?

Calm down, everything is moving just the way it's supposed to move.  That's my inner voice talking.  Hope I'm listening.

I know where I want to live.  I know what type of condo I want to buy.  One will become available at just the right time.

Calm down.  

Done deal.

Amazing how stress can fly away when a big deal goes down.  The closing on my house went off without a hitch.  Actually, it was rather sweet.  I so like the young (very) couple who bought the house.  And, I hope they'll be happy on New Street.

Now, I am in search of a new home in a different place.  My old hometown.

Forward.  

Frazzled.

Could I be any more rude while I'm driving (yes)? Why is everyone driving so slowly? 

I'm a wreck (no pun intended).  Feeling stressed.  Frazzled might a better descriptor. 

My house closing is scheduled for tomorrow.  It "should" go fine, but I'm nervous.  And I believe it will go fine.

Still, this sense of nervousness, worries, anxiety, whatever word you choose, I don't like the feeling, not at all.  Why can't I calm down?

Could it be that I feel so unproductive?  I must stay busy.   

Short-time.

They said it would happen.  Once you set a date to retire, you become a "Short-Timer."  What that really means is that you don't give a hoot about your work and you start counting the days.

I prefer to think of myself as "Future-focused."

Draw a line through it.

Do you ever make "to do" lists?  I do, all the time.  What I like most is crossing items off my lists once they're done.

So, with this transition, meaning, retiring from my job of the past 20+ years, selling my home, looking for a condo in KC, and, eventually moving back to Kansas City, I've created a list or two.  One should be enough, but that's another topic.

Today at breakfast, my pal, Dean, remarked that I was "crossing a lot off my list."  Meaning, I'm getting things done and making things happen.  That's a good thing, especially for Ms. Procrastination (me).

The closing for my house is scheduled for this Thursday.  I truly hope to cross that item off my list.

  

Sound of Music.

So I'm living in a nice duplex in a nice neighborhood.  It's temporary, maybe 6 months, maybe longer.  Just until I can find and buy a condo in Kansas City.

That's why I have lots of boxes and totes sitting in one half of the duplex's double garage (with a remote opener, woo hoo!).  Why should I unpack just to pack up everything again in a few months?  Not gonna happen.

But, oh boy, guess what I found (because I packed them in clear plastic tote boxes)?  My cds.  My music.  

Heaven is getting your fairly good stereo speakers and tuner hooked up, pouring vodka in an ice-cold glass, and sitting back and listening to songs I haven't heard in months (I've been taking my time packing).

Ah, how wonderful to hear Shawn Colvin's early songs in a way I hadn't grasped before.  She isn't even one of my favorites, but minds can be changed.  "Steady On."  Indeed.

Pause.

In the past couple of weeks, I've:

Been told my house had the highest radon reading they'd ever seen -- then it wasn't.

Moved to temporary housing (with dog).

Been to the vet (with dog) 3 times.

Spent hundreds of dollars (let's say thousand, at least) on movers, repairs, inspections (with more to come).

Cried.

Drank alcohol.  Lots.

Taken lovely walks along paths new to my dog and me (in the condo community we're living in for a few months).

Bought a new bed.

Said goodbye to neighbors I've known for nearly twenty years.

Lived without cable for a few days (not as hard as I thought it would be).

Unpacked as little as possible.

Met some lovely new neighbors.

Just keep going.  It's ok to take a breather.  

More to come.   

Letting Go.

The young (very) couple who want to buy my house came over today with their realtor.  They might buy some of my furniture.  Clearly, they are just starting out and this house is a perfect "starter" home.

Whether or not they buy my furniture, I will not be taking much of my furniture with me when I move to Kansas City.  I've certainly gotten my money's worth out of most of the pieces, having used them for nearly twenty years.  And somehow this move is about starting "fresh," which means I need to let go.  

Some of what I'm letting go:

Dean.

My job.

OPH.

My house.

My paycheck.

My boards and committees in the community.

My friends.

My routine.

My doctor, dentist, vet.

My beautiful public library.

Breakfast with Marilyn once a week.

What will fill the holes?

Pending.

So I leave town for a few days and look what happens:  I signed a contract to sell my home.  It's not a done deal, but so far, so good.

Things are really moving now. If this sale goes through, I need to find a temporary place to live as of August 1.  Today is June 24.  No worries!

Maybe it pays to go out of town and get away from my routine.  I stayed with dear friends, a wonderful, sweet dog slept with me every night, and I saw Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell in concert in the Boulder Flatirons.

Happy.  Grateful.

  

Escape.

Everything is fine, even though I have lost my temper and have had a couple of anxiety attacks.  It gets better.

Several showings at my house.  It looks good.  

I'm ready for a little break.  Tomorrow, I fly to Boulder, Colorado, where I used to live and where my best friend still lives.  Mountains. Dogs. Walks.  Cocktails.  Friends. Oh, did I mention that we have tickets to see Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell at Chautauqua?

When I return to Champaign in a few days, I'll keep on moving forward.  That's the way it's gonna be.

   

Mom.

One year ago today, mom died.
Miss her.

96 Tears.

One of the local radio stations morphed into an all-60s,70s,80s music format.  I don't mind admitting that I'm enjoying hearing songs I remember first hearing on my transistor radio.  I think it was pink.

Just heard "96 Tears" by ? and the Mysterians.  I'm fairly sure they were a one-hit wonder.  

The guy who is leading this radio station is someone I met while serving on a local nonprofit board.  Turns out, we both spent our early years in Kansas City.  This fellow, Mike, told me that when he was a kid, his dad took him to meet a disc jockey at the radio station that I listened to religiously.  It's where I heard the Beatles the first time on the radio.  WHB.

I love it that Mike shared this story with me.  And I love it that Mike now is the head honcho of a new radio station that plays all the music we loved so much on WHB.  

    

The Network.

I think this is a good thing.  Time will tell.  I've started to make KC connections via LinkedIn and other social online networks.

I look at the connections of KC folks I already know and request connections to folks who I used to know years ago when I lived in Kansas City or who have similar interests/skills.

Worth a shot.

Jitters.

My realtor got out her dainty sledgehammer and pounded a FOR SALE sign into my front lawn yesterday afternoon.  This morning, I dropped off my sweet doggie at the vet to have a growth removed from her ear.  Thursday morning, I'm meeting with my staff to discuss having to cut 4.75 percent of next year's budget.  Home inspection is this Friday.  Photos of my home will be taken this week to upload for a Virtual Tour.

OK, so I'm a little jittery.  

I'm still moving forward.   

Don't Push.

Yesterday my sweet young neighbor came by to tell me that his house had sold.  Three days.  I think that is good news, but I don't take anything for granted.  

My house is exactly like my neighbor's house.  So, if several people were interested in buying his house (at least, several people looked at it), could that mean that one would be interested in buying mine?  

My house will sell.  At exactly the right time.

Of course, I'm anxious, eager, whatever you want to call it.  I called my handyman and told him I REALLY want to get those small house projects done so I can put my house on the market.  I'm trying not to be pushy and, boy, is it ever hard.

My house will sell.  At exactly the right time.  (new mantra).

Om, sweet om.   

Fear & Loathing.

I'm not good with money.  I don't have a lot, but I'm better off than many folks.  As I approach my retirement from my current job, and prepare to pack up and move to my hometown, Kansas City, I guess it's not a huge surprise that I feel a bit anxious.  Downright scared at times.

This morning I met with my financial advisor.  Her main advice?  GET A JOB.  She was serious.  She thinks everyone, especially women, should keep working.  And, she told me I should start looking for a job before I leave this one.  This is good advice from a career counseling viewpoint.

My problem is that I can only deal with a few things at a time.  No way am I a multi-tasker.  Right now I'm focused on getting my house ready to sell, packing what I can right now, looking at the condo market in KC, and worrying about everything.

So the thought of adding GET A JOB to my "to do" list is, shall we say, "daunting?"

 Time to remind myself: Forward.   

There.  I feel better already.

  

Mundane and Productive.

It rained and was a bit chilly for 90% of the Memorial Day weekend where I live.  And, of course, I washed my car on Friday when the weather was perfect.

As it turned out, rain is a great motivator to stay inside your house and pack for an upcoming move.  It was actually rather energizing.  I felt no pressure and what a grand opportunity to clean out drawers and closets to throw away things I literally have not used in ten years or more.

My next door neighbor's house is for sale and several people have looked at it.  Since their house is exactly or nearly exactly like mine, I'm anxious to learn what price they get.

Home inspector coming in a week for a pre-inspection.

Just keep moving forward, ok?  I'm telling this to myself.  So far, so good.

Keeping Up Appearances.

My realtor came by yesterday to talk about getting my house ready to put on the market.  This "pearl of wisdom" came out of her mouth:  "Jan, I personally LOVE your liquor displayed so extensively, but since it's the first thing you see when you enter your home, how about toning it down just a bit?"

She meant "a lot."

OK, so I like having a well-stocked bar on display.  Nobody likes running out of scotch at the last minute.  Or gin.  Or port.

So, today I went to the local (where else?) liquor store for some boxes to pack up my beautiful alcoholic beverages collection.

Of course, I still have a bottle of vodka chilling in my freezer.  

Inspire me.

I'm talking to myself.  Get inspired!  Do something!  Be productive!  Jesus, I'm still getting a paycheck (thank you) and I should be, yes, working.  But I cannot or will not concentrate on work.  I think about "When will my house sell?"  "Where will I live after it sells?"  "What will I do with my dog when prospective buyers come to my home?"  

You know, the big life questions.

So, I'm sitting in my office at work and I thumb through the latest issue of Fast Company.  The cover headline reads: 100 MOST CREATIVE PEOPLE IN BUSINESS.

And, I think maybe the headline is right.  I'm loving reading about all kinds of creative types and their business ideas.  I'm not envious, I'm energized!

Yeah, baby, inspire me!

Summer Sale.

When I was in KC for Mother's Day, my family, unanimously, encouraged me to go ahead and put my house on the market.  I don't retire from Parkland until the end of December, so if my house sells this summer, I'll need to rent somewhere in Champaign (easier said than done when you bring a little Jack Russell Terrier along).

But here I go.  What the hell.  Everything is a chance at this point of my life.  Stay positive.  Do a little bit (like packing) at a time.  Know in your heart that everything will work out.

    

Last Dance.

Tonight is Parkland's Commencement Ceremony.  The keynote will be given by Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist, Leonard Pitts.

Even though I don't work directly with Parkland's credit-earning students, I usually "walk" in the ceremony with my faculty colleagues, wearing our caps and gowns.  And every time I do, I'm touched by the power of the event.  Our community college graduates often are first-generation college students.  The event center is packed to the rafters with families and friends (and lots of crying babies).

After the ceremony, a few of us, including the college president, will head over to a local bar and raise our glasses to another successful year.

This will be my last graduation at Parkland.

Here's to what's next.
Cheers.

My Generations.

My 97 year old and so beautiful, Aunt Charlotte, with her grandson-in-law and two of her great-grandsons.

Family.  Home.  Love.

The Long Goodbye.

This afternoon was another retiree event, a very nice luncheon.  The college president was there, as were three of the VPs, three members of the Board of Trustees, and several faculty, staff, and family.

The retirees received plaques, a gift, and a chance to say a few words.  What I said is basically in the remarks I wrote for the event program:

I started at Parkland in January 1994.  Not everyone knows this, but I worked with former Parkland President, Zelema Harris, when she was a community college president in Kansas City, my hometown.  Anyway, I was living in Boulder, Colorado, doing freelance writing.  I wanted to get back into higher ed and I contacted Dr. Harris to ask if she’d write me a reference letter.  She told me that a job was opening up at Parkland but she didn’t think I’d leave Boulder for Champaign.  Boy, did I ever fool her!

I’ve had the privilege of serving in different roles during my tenure at Parkland:  Director of Marketing, Executive Assistant to the President, Director of Community Education, and a few I can’t recall at the moment.   Looks like I couldn’t keep a job, but thankfully, Parkland kept me.

Without hesitation, the best thing about Parkland for me is the people who work here.  My life has been blessed with wonderful colleagues.  I must give special thanks to Sandra Boileau and Carol Steinman who took me under their wings when I first arrived and have been there for me through good and bad times.

I’m excited about starting the next chapter of my life.  Parkland has been the biggest part of my life for the past 20 years and I know how lucky I am.  I thank the Board of Trustees for their continuing support and kindness to me; I thank Dr. Zelema Harris for mentoring me and believing in me; I thank my current boss and longtime friend, Dr. Linda Moore, for her amazing calmness, dry humor and brilliance, and I thank President Tom Ramage for leading Parkland with a 21^st century vision and for always making me feel like I can make a difference.

It's been a great ride.  Moving forward now.

            

Hello, my name is Jan.

I know a lot of people in Champaign.  My job, Director of Community Education, helps.  I serve on boards and committees and I get to "schmooze" people, all in the name of promoting our college's programs.

Oh, yeah, I eat breakfast at the same time, same restaurant, seven days a week.  And I see the same faces and, without too much effort, I've become part of a "community."

Now I'm preparing to leave my job of twenty years (via retirement) and head back to the town where I was born and raised.  As far as I can tell, the folks I've come to know and mostly like here in Champaign are not making the move with me.

Do I start over?  Guess I'll have to.  Funny, but the first thing I want to do when I move is find a place to eat breakfast every morning.  Really.  There's something about showing up at the same place and becoming a "regular" that makes you feel like you belong.

Then I want to make connections.  I already know some folks in Kansas City and I have family there.  I went to college there, too.  How about if I roam around my old college campus, visit the library where I spent so many hours studying, see if there are some classes I could take?

One thing is certain: I have to stay busy or this whole move will be a disaster.  I will fall into deep depression and I won't have my therapist along for the ride (she retired and moved away, too).

Volunteer?  Where? Human Rights Campaign is big in KC.  I'm a Library Trustee in Champaign with a master's degree in Library & Information Technology.  I'd love to do something at the library.  Check it out. Who do I know who works at KC libraries?

"Hello, my name is Jan."

That's good for starters.      
  

Jurassic Park.

"Thanks for Jurassic Park."

That's what she wrote on my "Happy Retirement" poster/card.  Do you remember, she asked?

I did not. Then she told me about the time several years ago when I was her boss.  I was a terrible boss and made many mistakes.  Our department had gone through a particularly tough week, although I can't recall the specifics.  Anyway, even I could tell that my staff was down, and I mean, way down.

I walked into their office with the local newspaper opened to the movies listing.  "Choose a movie.  We're gettin' outta here."

They chose "Jurassic Park." And we spent the afternoon eating popcorn and watching cool dinosaurs.  And, at least once, I was a good manager.

    

Sinking in.

Parkland College Human Resources invites you to a Retiree Reception:

Thursday, May 2, 2013
2:00-4:00 p.m.
Art Gallery Lounge

Please come to recognize our retiree's for their service to Parkland College.

Gregory Boise
Public Safety
Martha Bowser-Kiener
Humanities
Mark Fruendt
Engineering Science & Technologies
Lester Hall
Public Safety
William Knerr
Physical Plant
Carolyn Martin
Planetarium
Carl Meyer
Foundation
Holly Pickowitz
Financial Aid
Ellen Saveley
Health Professions
Jan Simon
Community Education

Light refreshments will be served.

Please contact Human Resources at 3870 with any questions.

Matzo Redux.

I'm 60 years old.  I'll be 61 years old when I move back to my hometown, Kansas City.  I grew up Jewish. I am Jewish.  Went to Sunday School.  Did not have a Bat Mitzvah.  I don't speak or read Hebrew.  As of 2013, I have never visited Israel.

I do not keep Kosher.  I do not belong to a synagogue.  Most of my friends are not Jewish (not by intention).

So why am I now seriously considering joining a synagogue when I return to Kansas City?  Perhaps it has something to do with losing my parents and, sooner rather than later, losing the last of my dear aunts and uncles.  They are the ones who made me feel Jewish.

When I was a kid, we celebrated Passover, Yom Kippur, Hanukah.  What I remember most is the food (no surprise for anyone who knows me).  But I also remember family.  It was always about family.  Even with screaming, nagging, teasing, it was still family.

I miss that.  Maybe it's time to create a new family or build on the wonderful one I have had.  

Digging the '80s.

Not a lot of blog action.  Scattered thoughts.  Taking care of other "business."   Such as, buying previous years of service from employment at Missouri community college, way back in the 1980s.  I'm not going to bore you or myself with the gory details.  Let's just say that asking a previous employer to verify your employment can be, um, difficult.  How would you like to hear, "We've lost your employment records."

Not a pretty sound.

Well, guess what?  Do not give up.  I don't know how and I don't really care, but my previous (and we're talking thirty years ago, but you don't need to call up the archaeologists for christ's sake!) employer did find my records.  Yay.  And, thank you.  Really.

It cost me a fortune to "buy back" those service years, but smarter minds than mine have said I'll recoup the money if I live seven more years.  If I don't live seven more years, I won't worry if you won't.

Life now is comprised of working at my wonderful job at a wonderful college where I've worked for the past 20 years.  I am grateful.  And I'm ready for my next chapter.

Must offer something of value as I continue being employed until December 2013.  Bit of a struggle as my thoughts veer toward KC, the move, leaving current home and friends behind, making new connections, finding home to buy, and, yes, moving FORWARD.

Forward is the only way to go.

 

Map of Change.

Forward.

New journey beginning.  Retiring from a job that's been a joy and a blessing.  Moving back to my hometown.  Leaving behind routines, friends, colleagues, regular paycheck!

Like anyone else, I have no idea what lies ahead.  But I feel excited.  That's a good thing.  I also feel scared.  That's ok, too.  Just so my fear doesn't paralyze me.

I'm moving forward.