Reflections on a trip to the dump

Just back from the Refuse and Recycling Center — the dump — and reflecting on my new life. Friends and acquaintances used words like “new normal,” “adventure,” “life change,” and “freedom” when I made the decision to start a new life in the Poconos, retire from my long-time job in Florida, leave teaching at a local college, sell my house, and leave family and friends. All at once. I thought at first that perhaps I was a bit crazy but there is a method to the madness. I’m from the north and, after 37 years in Tallahassee (which is really the deep south), I wanted to come back. Besides, I was always considered a Yankee and never quite fit in. And, most importantly, I have two children who live in the area. So here I am in the woods, in a house that had to be gutted, retired after working since I’m 14, and wondering what’s next.

The move itself was an adventure that’s for sure and it needs to be said that my newly-renovated home in the woods has a steep curving driveway that influences everything from deliveries to renovations to shopping. Many days, while trying to find structure where there is none, I thought that writing about some of my encounters with local people and issues, about how the day fills up in spite of not working, and about living in a totally new environment might be fun and therapeutic at the same time. I’m a city girl after all and dealing with things like going to the dump is not typical for me. At the moment I’m looking at a yard covered in leaves and wondering if I have to get rid of them before it snows! That’s the kind of thing I think about these days.

Stories will follow on trying to get the State of Pennsylvania to accept my citizenship so I could get a license and voter’s registration card, dealing with the “two week” rule which seems to cover all services (remember The Money Pit?), getting used to the New Yawk accent again, and meeting new people and making connections with old friends!

2 replies on “Reflections on a trip to the dump”

  1. Donna says:

    Oh, going to the dumb is da bomb! Shall I share a small but deep secret? It’s kinda sordid. I come from a long line of . . . scavengers. And (dig this) our mother (that is, Lisa and my mother) is known to gift things that she finds at the dump. And (I swear, I’m not making this up) one time my mother found a, um, pretty glass jar of, um, edible love oil. (In her defense, I’m a sucker for pretty glass, too.) And she presented this to my daughter when my daughter was four.

    If I’m lying, I’m dying. If you don’t believe me, ask Lisa.

    Shame we don’t live close. We’d go lookin’ by the side of the road for baseball caps.

    Donna

  2. cousinjill says:

    Well done! Keep your reflections coming, Pat.