Why this year? Because I am back on the academic calendar, with less time to myself? Because we got our pool late in the summer, and Bob closed it (I confess to doing only a little to help) last weekend? Because my garden's tomato yield was on the disappointing side? Because the cucumbers, which were abundant and especially delicious this year, are now done? My Uncle Joe and Bob's Uncle Bill are both quite ill and that probably is the biggest reason. In general, I am finding that being 41 is fabulous, and aging is awesome. That's explained more in the paragraphs about my risk-taking, below. But there's a rub, and it is a big one. It's the sadness of having to say goodbye. Yes, it exists for your entire life, but it becomes a much more frequent occurrence as you get older.
At some point in the Fall, Mimmie used to begin a sentence with, "Next Spring, If I'm Alive," before she told of the flowers she planned to plant or new garden implement she wanted to buy. A remnant of life on a farm, I guess, and probably passed on from older times when the foreboding Catskill Mountain winter was seen as a predator. Today we have flu shots and the mosquito- and tick- born diseases of summer loom larger.
Four years ago, I took a risk. I left my job as an academic administrator to finish my PhD full time. I had only two courses and the dissertation to go. I was having a spell of burnout that had been going on for a couple of years. In 1996, as the comprehensive exams approached, I considered leaving the program. I wanted - no, needed to find time to write, an on and off passion ever since I can remember, and I didn't see how I could keep working, finish my degree, maintain all the other aspects of life, and pursue my dream at the same time. But I hung in there as long as I could. I took and passed the comps in 1997 and started taking week-long vacations from work to write. I had a lot of time saved up since I rarely had taken more than an occasional day or two off in a row before that.
Then, in 1998, I decided that while I would probably finish the course work, I could never write a dissertation while working full time. Why sacrifice the nearly achieved PhD for a job? So I resigned, and in 2000 I had the PhD in hand. I resolved while I was working on my dissertation that when I finished I was not going to return to administration hastily. My interest in teaching and research had grown. Also, I had some success in getting a few of my freelance pieces published in 1998 and 1999, and I made a lot of progress on my manuscript, A Visit With Mimmie: Catskill Mountain Recipes.
Right before graduation I was pursued, and received a tempting job offer that wasn't exactly the package I wanted. I was proud of myself for holding my ground and turning it down, but for some reason the experience sparked panic, and I began to apply for some positions. Very quickly I was offered one that interested me and I accepted. For a bit more than a year I worked in vocational secondary school administration. It was a good experience, given my background. It exposed me to an environment that had been unfamiliar. However, it wasn't long before the fog of dissertation writing cleared and I remembered that the 9-5 world was not part of my plan. So, a year ago I took another risk; once again I left my job, this time to go completely freelance. For the past year I have been doing contract work, freelance writing and adjunct teaching. Spells of working like crazy, and then scrambling for work.
Today I unsubcribed to the Freelance Job Exchange. It is a good service, and I recommend it. I was a member for several months, and although I could not have supported myself solely on income generated from the membership, I did get two interesting and rewarding projects from it. I am unsubscribing because I no longer need to "hunt" for work. I have enough contacts, my cash flow is secure enough, and my time is appropriately filled, with teaching, advising, mentoring, research, and writing. It took a year. A year. I suspected it would take that long, and for the first time, I allowed myself to wait. Not always easy, but hindsight says it was. In 1996, I could only imagine it.
I took the money I saved, $20 per month, and subscribed to Blogger Pro and Blog Spot Plus. Spell check, no ads, the ability to have drafts, and host graphics. The "close" was that I can make a private journal if I want. Even at that I still have a few dollars a month to spare. Now if only it could be slipped into a little spiral bound notebook that could be taken to the benches where I wait for the bus.
I received an email recently from a woman who asked me if I knew of any Castleton pictures on the web (hi DZ). I did a quick search, and I didn't come up with anything. I'll have to give it some more thought. Although I have no photos of the village in general (and Main St. has some decay, but the Hudson River is pretty), I do have individual house pictures in my booklet, Castleton's Bungalow Houses, and here is a sample:
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