A phone call prompted me to venture into the world of blogging. I find it a satisfying place for a retired teacher who collects experiences.
As a special education teacher, I could have retired to substitute teaching. But I sought something new in my life, a purpose that would bring me joy. Unlike being immersed in reading, I prefer hands-on activities like moving objects from one place to another. Reading was never my forte, which made school challenging for me. You may wonder why I became a teacher. But I digress.
In my 70s, I have a passion for exploration and helping others, the latter likely influenced by my upbringing. My father used to say that a good person helps with cleanup after a meal. He really said that’s what a good woman would do, as a reminder to anyone dating one of his four sons. It’s worth noting that my father was born in the 1920s. Both of my parents worked outside the home, and the girls in my family were responsible for meal preparation, while my brothers had to handle the cleanup duties. That is when they fought over who did the washing and who did the drying.
Returning to the topic of helping others, my older sister, who is also my best friend, is a skilled quilt maker and probably holds the record for making the most quilts. Although this may not be an official fact, it’s how I perceive it. She is part of a quilt club that creates beautiful quilts, and she mentioned their project of making quilts for tiny houses.
This piqued my interest, but at the time, I was heavily involved in various activities: caregiving for individuals with Alzheimer’s, participating in an Alzheimer’s caregiver group, concluding a two-year double-blind study on Alzheimer’s, starting a new study on the long-term effects of COVID, and being a grandmother. As you can see, I keep myself busy in retirement.
Returning to the tiny houses, they are located west of my town, nestled in the countryside. Initially, they were hard to spot due to the surrounding foliage. My curiosity got the best of me one day and I decided to stop driving by and get a closer look, approaching a man who was working there. I have a knack for engaging with strangers, so I struck up a conversation with him, and he provided me with a contact number for someone named Frankie. I kept the number for future reference.
Check back next month for Part Two
