Senior Daze

by Katie Bourg

About Katie: Having arrived in time for the Great (?) Depression, WWII, and all other 20th century problems, I am endowed with long and varied memories. Writing classes have long been my home away from home. Other people's stories are fascinating, and sharing is growth at its best. Hope you seniors will join me with your stories. Try it. You'll like it.

I guess I should think about staying home once in awhile. My daughters have kept me on the road lately.

My Karen, (daughter number 2) decided on a 'sew in' at her timeshare in January. Several friends were very interested. It was planned for early May. They would take their machines (embroidery or ordinary) and spend a week just socializing and creating. I was allowed to go along. I said fine, gave it no more thought, and promptly forgot about it.

I must not have been the only one with a bad memory. As the day approached, one by one, each woman found they could not take the time. The timeshare was already reserved, so the two of us packed up and traveled to Birch Bay.

I've not been interested in timeshares. They seem a little too fancy for my taste. And expensive. Husband Gus and I considered it a great extravagance when we bought a tent and an ice cooler, so he could spend time chasing fish that usually got away. I cooked over campfires. Carried a large jar of Vaseline for burns and bites, and pretended I didn't feel the rocks under my spine--not always successfully. I would come home with a station wagon full of tired but happy kids, and a husband planning the next weekend. It didn't occur to me there was any other way to enjoy the finer things of life.

In time we felt a little cramped and, being adventurous, we began to think of something more. I was dreaming of one of those new campers they were putting on the back of trucks. We were both "do it yourselfers," so I should have been prepared when Gus drove in with a used donut truck. I had to admit it had possibilities.

Many weeks later, we took it through the Canadian border, where the ranger became quite excited, and wanted to see everything we did. That's what he said, anyway. Rangers were more relaxed in those days. And friendly was easier.

The donut truck was painted grey--probably surplus paint, I'm not sure. But the outline of the donut could still be seen on the side. It never lost the name. It did sleep eight people, so we could take everybody's friend with us. It had a stove, icebox, and a shelf for each child's belongings. It had a side bed that folded out and included the drivers seat.

I slept with my head almost in the oven. I was once accused of having eaten a whole huckleberry pie in the night. It was not self-contained, a phrase that became very important to me. An ad on a rainy night found us inspecting a badly damaged camper that was. We were doing it again.

As the kids left and retirement neared, we started looking ahead. First a fifth wheel, and eventually a motorhome. That's when we got fancy and bought into a camping club. We'd always been state park patrons. Now, we had all we could ever need.

As the kids established their own lifestyles, they had other ideas. They all have timeshares. These days, I vacation in luxury I never dreamed of. I have my own bedroom and bath. The kitchens are fully furnished. The little decks are perfect for morning coffee. Activities are unending, fish and chips a step away. I don't even have to pay for it. The kids do.

They even furnished an extra table for the sewing machines. And I got a dozen squares of quilting done on a two-year project.

My bag remains packed. I wonder where we are going next.