"I thought you would be more responsible than that. How can you not have a home for your children to go to especially at the holidays?" That was stinging commentary when I shared with a relative details on Ed's and my plans to live in our bus conversion motor home. Ouch! No support here! And, I suppose that others who have elected this lifestyle heard similar criticism. (If you are a full-time RV'er and experienced this type of non-supportive expression, let me know.)
My Grandmother experienced the same commentary in 1975 as relatives whispered disapproval among themselves when she sold her Pennsylvania home, let go of the Indiana County farm, and packed up for a retirement community in Bradenton, Florida. There was no stopping her and likewise, no stopping me. My children live dispersed across the United States (Greensburg, PA; Lake City, PA; and Fulton, Missouri) - none of which are close to my Whitehouse, TX home. When we gather as a family, we meet at my mother's Greensburg home - a house that she has been tethered to since 1963. We exchange presents, eat too much, and play competitive games of Canasta; then, we all go our separate ways drawn by careers or school.
From my perspective, I have done my duty raising the children and providing for their needs. They were a part of my dream, as was my career with one of the most highly regarded consulting firms in the country and several years in broadcasting. Advancing toward new dreams keeps me stimulated and excited about what each new day will bring. That is why I won't be made to feel my entrenched Catholic guilt to keep a home with the expectation of the kids coming once a year for the forced holiday visit. Let them come to me on the beach of Mexico, the rain forest of Costa Rica, or the mountains of Chile...all more enchanting than a three-bedroom ranch in a suburban neighborhood.
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