Downsizing

Hurry, Hurry, Step Right Up...



They say that you come into this world naked, and that you basically go out of it the same way.

Our friend Bucky (Dartmouth Class of 1942) is getting a good lesson in this axiom.

You see, Bucky is flying away from our little island this morning, off to the New England of his birth, moving into an “assisted living” facility in the great state of Connecticut.

We’re gonna miss our friend, but we also know that he’s going to be much better off living in a place where he’s very near his family, surrounded by dozens of his peers in a situation where he doesn’t have to worry about not being able to drive himself to the grocery store and take care of the kitchen and laundry.

I sometimes wish that I should be so lucky…

Any way, Bucky has had to sit by for the past day and one half while his family packed up the things he’ll need in his new environment, while at the same time selling or giving away all the things he no longer needs or has room for in his new home.

Actually, he’s gone through the proceedings quite well.

Condo…sold.

Camry…sold.

Kitchen utensils…my kitchen.

Contents of the bar…my bloodstream.

Deluxe Framed Nautical Chart of the local waters…My wall

Microwave & Sofa…Ozzy—the “yard guy”

All this after already doing a “downsizing” ten years ago after his beloved wife died of cancer and he “relocated” from his house on the golf course to the small cluster of rooms located below our own condo.

Bucky and I have more in common than one might at first realize. We’ve both watched a lifetime of accumulated stuff dwindle away to a few familiar items—my own experience occurring in a matter of hours in a house fire, and Bucky’s playing out toward the end of 39 more years than I’ve managed to live through here on this lovely planet.

I can’t say which method is easier, or even which method I would prefer. I guess I'd say that it's a tossup.

Bucky’s seen the loss of many more friends and family members through his 85 years than I have in my 46, but I also believe that we share a common realization of the limited value of worldly possessions and the infinite value of life’s experiences and personal relationships that never ever can be taken away from us—no matter what life ends up throwing at us in the end.

We have to say goodbye to Bucky at 8:45 AM this morning, after only two short years of friendship, and the hardest thing for us is the realization that, due to his advanced age, we might not see him alive again, BUT…

Pat and I have also come to understand that there is a very good possibility that the reason that we were first drawn to live here on St. Simons Island, in this specific condo, was because of the enrichment of our lives shared with Mr. Strader (Dartmouth class of 1942) over these past few months.

That’s something that you can never put a price tag on.

Thank you so much, Bucky…and good luck to you in your excellent new adventure.

(And look out all you Connecticut women)

(This posting was supposed to be published at 4:30 AM this morning, but apparently Blogger was doing work on the site and I just now managed to force things through the free pipeline they supply...)