On Going To as Opposed to Leaving Saturday, May 9, 2009
The tourist season has ended here in the islands. Nicole, the fruits and vegetable girl from Germany , has stopped deliveries and it rains a bit more now. She has been here for eight years now.
The tourists that come here and their season are determined by where they live. They are escaping the weather that they don’t like and/or the daily drudge of their job. They leave when the weather at home improves enough to be bearable. They are also dragged home by the obligations of mowing the lawn, fixing the disposal, and a laundry list of home ownership albatrosses.
When I went to California in 1966, it was to go to work in the defense electronics industry where there was sun and surf. This was in contrast to leaving a small town in northern Minnesota with temperatures below -40 F in the winter. My glass of water has always been half full as opposed to half empty.
Admittedly I do rail against the onerous taxes imposed by the spendthrift California Legislature. And I also think it’s time to yank the bailout purse strings tight and make the banking industry pay for their own malfeasance. But most of my mental pressure is of my own doing. I have always believed one needs to pull their own freight and that ones welfare is directly a result of ones own efforts.
So now I anticipate spending my off time here, where this month’s pressure is remembering the day I have to visit the Immigration Ministry’s office in two weeks. And I am (re)learning the Moscow Producti (market) practice of “if you see something you may need, you better buy while it’s there”.
After a month of watching and buying on the stock market, I have learned to “pull the trigger” and cut my losses. This is completely at odds with my growing up with depression-era parents. Their ethos of waste-not-want-not dictated save and keep something even if you spent more time moving it than using it. Of course living on a boat for 12+ years has given impetus to my Minimalist outlook. One sharp butcher knife does everything, the knife holder block sits empty on the counter. Lest I tax your attention and have nothing for tomorrow ~ later.