Why on earth would someone who has lived for 45 years in one place pack up and leave to live in another region, another climate and another cultural network of giving and getting? Why would anyone want to move to a place where they would be a stranger?

Recently Jan and I did just that. We left Sitka, Alaska where had been for 45 years, and we moved to Carmel, California. The planning, packing sorting and shipping was an ordeal. I was scrupulous in throwing stuff out and giving it away at first but by the end I was dumping drawers of crap into boxes and taping them up to be loaded on a truck. What does John Straley crap look like, you wonder?

Stubby pencils, keychains with shark teeth, book bags from crime conferences, old pocket knives, dice that have fallen out of games, toy cars, five Mr. Potato Heads, Ulus, dozens of cords for electronics that I may or may not still own, guitar picks scattered throughout everything, miniature screw driver kits for fixing glasses with two drivers missing, possibly broken thermometers, pink pencil erasures, posters from book events, mis-matched swim fins, reviews I’ll never read again, ball point pens with the names of defunct law firms written on them, hundreds of business cards, video punch cards, coffee punch cards from cafe’s that have long ago shut down, envelopes that my friend Ray Troll scribbled little drawings of fish on. (I can’t throw those away can I?) Old ammunition from guns I got rid of, perfectly good half used post-it pads, fishing lures that no one uses anymore, and books, and books, and books. I gave away a full chord (4x4x8 feet) of books and I still have too many books, plus boxes and boxes of draft manuscripts which took me a weekend to burn, plus T-shirts from every possible charitable organization, burger joint, blues band, science conference, public Defender Agency gathering, rodeo association, or jails that I ever took a liking to. I got rid of five guitars, and I still have two.

Moving exposed me to an embarrassment of riches.

But why did we do it. We had to go to a new house because Jan’s Parkinson’s disease had reached a stage where we couldn’t accommodate the stairs and the sheds and the trail maintenance around our place. We needed access to our doctors and just got plain sick of traveling to appointments in Seattle. After a three day stay in the local Sitka hospital it was clear we needed to be near better facilities.

And finally, to be truthful, the long winter weather was getting to me. Last winter I slipped on the ice way to many times. (and I’m the one without Parkinson’s) Two concussions, 22 stitches, two emergency room visits, just for me. So we sold our two waterfront houses and moved to a two bedroom condo in an over 55 facility called Hacienda Carmel.

But that’s not really the final thing. Our son Finn and his wife Emily, plus their son Arthur, live fifteen minutes away in Monterey and we get to see them about twice a week. Arthur turned one in November. Just seeing how he changes week to week could fill up an entire journal. This baby makes my heart sing. That’s a real reason for a move.

Yes my chest freezes up when I think of our old house. I miss the ocean and the wild mountain hillside like a missing a limb. I also miss playing music with my pals in Sitka. I miss having someone to call when I need help with chores, or need a ride to the auto repair shop. I miss knowing so many people in a small wintertime town. I miss being a part of a community: giving money to candidates I actually know, giving things to charities whose good work actually benefits friends and neighbors.

But those things come with time… hopefully. But now I’m a stranger, which isn’t a bad thing. It gives me a lot of new things to learn - flowers which bloom all year round and the names of new birds. Yesterday I saw a bobcat on my walk around the new community. That was thrilling. I’ve always wanted to live by a river and, with the heavy rains, many people go to the bridge or stand on the protective berm around our community and watch how much the river rises each day. We chat and we make vague promises to try to get together and I’m sure, given enough time, we will.

Jan, Finn ad Arthur making Cinnamon Rolls on Christmas morning in our new house.

Time with good health is not something to assume will be there when you need it, but being open to the possibility of time and new acquaintances is what hope really is, I suppose.

I decided to start writing in this blog again to combat the new feeling of loneliness, and to stay in touch with old friends. I’ll try to write here at least once a week. Next time I’ll catch you up on my new book, Blown By The Same Wind - you can check out some of the reviews on the main page here.

If you want to get to this page simply enter: johnstraley.com/blog I’m not sure I’m going to be using the mainstream platforms of social media anymore. I’m sick of the rhetoric there, but we will find a way to find each other… I’m sure of it.

Warm rain and warm wind.

Baby dabbles in the mud

as I say his name.

jhs