They Can't Take That Away From You

There's something about being in an empty house with no stuff. You've sold stuff. The other stuff is in boxes in a van parked at some truck stop. And there it is in stark reality: it's just stuff. And then there's the first doorbell ring, and the first flower delivery man delivers the first living plant. And there it sits in the middle of the empty living room (lower left in the picture - click to enlarge).

And then it hits you when you look at the tag and see who it's from. Right there in front of you, you see what's really important. The thing that's still there even when all the stuff is gone. Friendship. It was from a very fine trumpet player. A man that helped me grow as a drummer. We combined our gifts and love of jazz to bring joy to others, raise money for charity, and have a hell of a lot of fun in the process. A person who was there for me with kind words when my father died. One who encouraged and checked on me during my sabatical. A relationship formed by a decade of making music together. The stuff? It can be boxed and taken away. A relationship? They can't take that away from you. Moving reminds me of that. Thank you, Jerry!

All without a car

Hike, India Restaurant, Brewery. Our first Friday night we walked four blocks from our house to the trailhead, climbed the hill and watched it get dark over the city, climbed down and walked to an India restaurant, then to a brewery, and then home. It hit us when we got home: we just did all that without a car.

Walking To Town

In England we once rang the doorbell of a B&B after a full days hike. The older man opened the door and with a thick English accent asked "You from the States?" Yes, we are. "And you're walking?" he asked in amazement. He yelled upstairs to his wife: "come meet some Americans...Americans that walk!" We tried to persuade him that he was exagerating, but to no avail. Ever since, we noticed things like our suburban neighbors driving to their mailbox.

We enjoy being able to walk to everything in this town. It's 3/4 of a mile to downtown, with some funky shops and cool cafes in between. My first walk to town, I took advantage of a sunny fall day and took these two pictures.

The Van Arrives!

Today at 8:30 it pulled up. Movers had serious frowns as they looked up and down our 1938 narrow doors. The big blue leather couch was made for new suburban homes, in 1938 they could not conceive of such big furniture. So it sits in the garage, alone in the cold. As for everything else, the boxes are piled high. Despite our garage and Craigslists sales, we didn't quite downsize enough for the smaller home. Local charities will benefit. But the rooms and halls no longer have the deep ecchos, and it's looking more like home.

First Day Hike

After a day of cleaning before the van arrives, we took advantage of our first sunny day, and first Sunday, to take a four-hour day hike just a few miles out of town. Kenai loved the new smells, we loved the break from a few crazy weeks and a 1200 mile drive. The Larch are at peak color, the stream crystal clear. It seemed (and still seems) hard to believe that this trailhead was only fifteen minutes from our house.

Drive Up To Our House!

This short video takes you up to our house on a sunny October day. Starts with the neighborhood park on our right. We bend around the park, and then take a left onto our street, with all the maples turned color. As we make that left, our house is the third on the right...it ends too quickly so it's a fast view...that's Shane and his buddies at the front door. This gives you a feel for our new neighborhood.

Last Farmers Market, NPR, and Small World

This morning the town had their last Saturday morning farmer's market. We grabbed a hot cup of coffee and walked through it on a cool rainy morning. My brother and former wife Chris introducing us to many people. One being Kathy, a frrelance journalist who does many National Public Radio (NPR) broadcasts. As we chatted I recalled a conversation only a few weeks ago when I was at my Corporate headquarters in Saint Louis. When I told someone that I was moving to Missoula, Montana, this person got all excited. "Missoula! Awesome!" "You know it or been there?" I asked. "No" she replied, "but I listen to NPR a lot and there's a woman who does shows on it, and she always signs off 'from Missoula Montana' and I just think that's such a cool name for a town, and always wonder what it must be like......"

Now here I was chatting, at the local farmers market, with this same reporter. I told her the story and she certainly saw the humor in it. Forget about the story - all this listener was interested in was the sign off!

We bought a big pumpkin from kids that grew it themselves, the first pumpkin for the new home.

The House

Both pictures show our house from Bonner Park, a local park near the U. We are three houses in from the park. The rain finally cleared after three days, and I figured it was time to show the house location. TOP PHOTO is looking down our road from the park. We are the third house in. You can see only the front porch of the second house, and then our white door and roofline "over" their porch. You can see our white door facing directly at you. The BOTTOM PHOTO is from a different angle, from the park. That's our road heading away from the park. There is a Jeep Wagoner facing away...right in the very front of that car you can see our white door facing the camera. We LOVE the neighborhood. CLICK on any photo to enlarge it.

1200 miles, Walking the last four blocks

After twenty hours of driving, we were all of a sudden driving past the University of Montana campus. In a cold rain. I knew our house was only four blocks away. I hadn't seen it yet, except for five months of viewing electronic videos and looking at the location with Google maps. Laurie let me out of the car, with my dog Kenai on the leash. After 1200 miles of driving I'll walk the last four blocks. Large maple trees in full fall foilage lined the streets I was walking down. Soon I came to the park, walked out into the middle of it, where I met Laurie. I could see it - three houses in from the park - it was a surreal feeling. We walked together to our new home, and stood there in the cold rain hardly believing it all.

Westward Ho

A North Dakota snowstorm caused us to get a hotel in Dickenson, forcing us to relax and have a pint of Guinness. Daybreak hit the icy road and eventually saw the "Welcome to Montana" sign. Looking at the sign, it dawned on us that since I can work remote, we can live almost anywhere. And this is the "welcome to your dreams" sign? I had to quickly take the picture because behind us a snowplow was quickly gaining on us, and we didn't want to gamble on him seeing us. Many hours the sun came out, and staring us in the face was the first glimpse of the mountains that have been pulling on us for all these years.

Flags of My Father

A lunch stop at an old farm near Hawley, Minnesota near Fargo. Two twins, both in their 80's, great me at the door. The Norwegian accent tells me "you look like your father." And they knew my father well. They travelled with my father over fifty years ago, a tour of islands like Saipan, Tinian, and the most famous of all, Iwo Jima, with many other U S Marines. Engel and John Bergseid were household names for me growing up. My father saved Engel's life on Iwo, and that event bonds the two families fifty years later. An emotional lunch stop on our adventure west. With the movie "Flags of Our Fathers" opening today, it seemed especially appropriate to have lunch in a non-descript farmhouse with two brothers who watched the flag raised with my father.

A First In The History of Marriage

Women can get emotional leaving a house of sixteen years. There we were. An hour left in the vacant house. Laurie was terse, tired of it all, wanting it all to be over. To leave the house, close the door and have the good bye done with. But I didn't think the cleaning was done, what with the urine stains and hair still on the toilet. "It's fine" she said. "No it's not" said I. "My mother already cleaned it" she said. "Well she didn't do a good job" says I. I didn't think the new buyers would be amused. Off to the neighbors I went for cleaning supplies. Back to the toilet I took them. She was exhausted, sad, terse, confused all at the same time. And then it all came out at once, aimed at me. A rage. A tirade. While I was on my hands and knees cleaning the toilet. "What are you doing! It's fine! Stop it!" Along with some choice words. She then broke down, and we both lay on the baren hardwood floor, embracing in the empty room where we'd slept for sixteen years, and sobbed. Soon it was over. But the cold hard fact remains: it just might have been the first time in the history of marraige when a wife yelled at her husband for cleaning a toilet.

Three house loans yet homeless

At my work going away party, someone remarked that we now have three home loans (one on the Minnesota house, one on the Montana house, and a short-term loan to cover the downpayment until the old house sells. Yet, we are homeless. Moving van is gone and no home to stay in. Hmmm.....

Point of no return

The moving van pulled up yesterday (Friday) and was gone by afternoon. Today we finsihed cleaning areas that haven't been cleaned since we moved in. The van is on the way to Missoula. We walked out the house probably for the last time. It's totally empty, coldish, and echos. All we have is our suitcase for the next week. Definately past the point of no return now - no turning back. Missoula here we come, ready or not.