Do not go gentle into that good night . . .

 

Getting old is an accomplishment some people are never blessed to achieve.  A gift or a curse?  If you are lucky enough to age without serious injuries or health challenges then it would seem life is easy.  I have found this to be untrue.  I realized several years ago that the biggest curse ever visited on a person is to be "caught up" with no new responsibilities or tasks.  I live an uncomfortable life.  That way I am forced to stay busy.

I live on a shack boat.  Something is always either not working or is threatening to stop working.  That way I, Captain of the ship, have to keep working.  I know that I am really just playing, but it's a game I have chosen and it seems to help me deal with the new aches and pains, the stiffening joints and the low-sleep and long nights. I began a journal last summer.  I offer that journal here along with some of the scenes I captured that day:

July 25:  With the help of friend Sam, we relaunched the jet ski today.  I managed to foul the impeller with a rock last week and had to take it out of the lake for repairs.  My plan is to use the shack boat, Freebird,  for home base in different parts of the lake and to 'scurry forth' on the ski and do some tent camping in the upper river portions of the Clinch and Powell rivers.  This may of may not work out.  I'm hoping Nyx will be happy guarding the fort on the nights I am away.  

  

             " Do not go gentle into that good night,
               Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
               Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

                Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
                Because their words had forked no lightning they
                Do not go gentle into that good night.

                 Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
                 Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
                 Rage, rage against the dying of the light. " 

 Continued:  Dylan Thomas

It comes down to what to do with yourself after you are no longer useful to the world.  We all question these things if we are lucky enough to survive into 'old age'.  That is where I found myself after I finally walked away from working by choice instead of necessity.  Then I ran smack dab into what I was going to do with myself.  My youngens were raised and doing well on their own and I could actually survive better financially by not working than if I stayed on the treadmill.

But what to do?  I grew restless after about a week.  That's when I began wandering.  I slept in my rigged car, a converted van, a camper truck and a tag-along camper.  Forty-five states hosted me for a time and I thoroughly enjoyed my wandering ways even when the challenges sometimes caught up.

Covid interrupted everything.  Campgrounds closed; parks were closed; even BLM restricted access.  I took refuge to the home farm.  Refuge beside a big lake that I had called neighbor all my life, but a neighbor I barely knew.  Over eight hundred miles of shoreline and I had actually seen only ten miles maybe.  An aged pontoon boat that I equipped with a floating hillbilly shack became my new home and Norris Lake became my new wandering limit, the hillbilly yacht, Free Bird, was born.

In reality, I was not exploring a lake, but rather exploring myself.  I have slowly learned much of the art of enjoying a satisfied life.  The unexpected and unpleasant challenges that disrupted my days I learned to accept and to even welcome as simply part of the journey.  Unexpected repairs that interrupted my travels became part of the fun.  My story is not a story about living on a lake, but rather a story about finding peace and purpose.

I discovered several years ago that retirement is a dangerous thing if you have no goals or any purpose.  I need something to keep busy, something both interesting and challenging.  This led me to begin the ten thousand mile trip around the country, exploring and meeting people, learning about them and the ways of their lives.  I hiked as many trails as my old legs dared attempt.  I slept in the trees and in several Walmart parking lots (thank you so very much Walmart.  I am forever in your debt).  Now I have come home to the lake I was ready to explore after a lifetime.  Peace is where you find it.