Self-imposed exile ...

I've been hard on myself of late. Chalk it up to turning 70. Or chalk it up to having too much time on my hands. For those who don't really know me, I spent my life being a capable and independent child, which continued to wander into my 60's to a degree. This post reflects on my decline into fear of the unknown, partly fed by inaction, partly from lack of support. My intentions were good, but haven't come to fruition. Don't pity or scold me. I've just figured that writing about it might spin me in to action. Is it too late? They say never! We'll see ...

I had parents who allowed me more independence than I gave them credit for. Being raised at a resort run by my family was what I'd call a charmed and diverse childhood. Add to that a barn and horses and you get a child who could never use the dirty word "bored". I had school chums and other friends whom I called "annuals". The latter came to the resort every year around the same time, and I looked forward to every one of them.  I still think of them and wonder where they are now. The memories come at me as if it were yesterday. The little blonde from Fremont, NE., the wild girl from Omaha, the families I babysat for, and the list goes on. I suspect there were a few romantic interests, but they came and went ... one as far away as Germany. When I spurned him, I was told he put all of my letters in a box, tied a rock to it, rowed a boat to the middle of the lake and sank them. Woe is me!

 Before I was even a thought!

 My happy place!

Some of the school chums ...

I recall my ability to entertain myself for hours. There was a dump way out in one of the pastures (no landfills at that time), and I would go round up the necessities to make camp, then ride my imaginary horse to a prime spot. There I would fix my vittles and have a feast (not many calories in air) while my steed munched on the green grass of Iowa. As the real horses came into my life, I spent hours riding the gravel back roads and ditches, stopping to let my horse drink from a farmers tank. I had my lunch in a paper bag strapped to my saddle. Sometimes a farm wife would come out to let me know that my mom had called looking for me, so she'd call her back and tell her I was safe. I can still smell the leather saddle, and feel the heat from the sun, and looked forward to a shower when I got home. My first equine was a little Shetland when I was 9. Mom & I were riding on a beach along the lake when the little bugger decided it was time for a roll in the sand. Down we went with me hopping off in time to avoid being squished.

 Where it all began ...

 Pepper, my first ...

 My mom's Tennessee Walker, & my bad hair ...

I also had two brothers to keep up with and, much to their chagrin, hung out with on occasion. This is probably what gave me my tomboy attitude, which I wouldn't trade for the world. It got me out of many scrapes and close calls. No cry baby here! I don't know that I'd have learned to water ski or play basketball, etc. were it not for them. Larry was 4 years older and into his own thing, so I was just a fly in the ointment! Carl was more willing to include me and act as my protector. I recall him sassing a friend of his when the friend didn't want me around. I thought that was pretty cool. Thanks, bro!

Carl, Larry, & cousin Jim on the right

When I was 12, along came a sister. So my parents hadn't forgotten how that happens! Attention turned from me, the youngest, to the brand new baby, Mary. Was I now a middle child? Maybe that's where my confusion began to set in. But I became her protector and sometimes babysitter. Three years after her, we adopted another girl, Jane, and she looked for all the world like mom in my opinion. We remain close.

As time wore on, I entered my teens. I have to admit that I was probably not the easiest teen to raise. I never really connected with any one "group" through school, and I always leaned toward the underdogs. Still do. Popularity wasn't important to me. I think I was closer to my dad, but he'd (out of necessity) take mom's side when I was "difficult". I fought with my two sides ... independent vs. doing the right thing. And that continued on for most of my life. But marriage throws a monkey wrench into the mix. I married the first one too young. Back then, if you weren't married in your early 20's, something was wrong with you. So I did what I thought was the right thing. Wrong! I look back and realize that I was not a good candidate for letting my world become overwhelmed by allowing it to revolve around others. Call that selfish if you wish, or call if giving up your independence.So I set myself free, and took a refresher course on "Who is Kathy". 

Along the way, I purposely began to put myself in tough situations, trying for things that I didn't really believe myself capable of. But I'll be darned if I didn't succeed! Against all odds I became a Judicial Magistrate for the State of Iowa. Little, blonde, 24 year-old me against several good ol' boys. Three of us were chosen from our county, and one of them took me under his wing until I became good at what I was doing. The plus ... it was a shot in the arm for self-confidence, which led me on to more "I can DO this" situations. 

I went on the road selling office supplies, machines & furniture at a time when that was not easy. But, before the road, I learned my lessons in the store. While doing that, one of my customers was a new radio station in my hometown. Look out world ... I wanted that job, and I was currently in a job which trained me well for selling the intangible radio advertising! And one day, I got the call. I'd done it again! I was flying high. I stayed with that company for 12 1/2 years and never burned out. I knew that, wherever Ben & I (yes, I remarried & he was the right one!) moved, I could get a job. I ended my 25 year radio career in Arizona. I made many exceptional friends in that career. It's unfortunate that we go our own ways and lose touch.

Primo!

When I lost Ben in 2009, and my mom soon after, I was 61. I had been through many adventures and pitfalls, self-imposed, many not mentioned here. I continued to challenge myself for awhile, working 2 part-time jobs at different times. I needed the people contact, not to mention the money! But there came a day when I decided I'd had enough of the working life. I live in a place that doesn't lack for scenery and things to do, so I took little road trips and played with my dad while he was still here. When he was gone, it threw me for a big loop. I became introspective for awhile, but my photography, books & kayak continued to fill a void. And I have two feline housemates whom I'd be at a loss without. They're 11 1/2 now and I'm not looking forward to losing them. I've always had pets, and they've all been hard acts to follow. 

The most difficult thing for me is to look back on all of this and see how I've let myself lose that competitive spirit, allowing my house to become my world ... something similar to allowing your world to revolve around something else. It's easy to slip into the attitude of "but where would it be any different". I love my home, but it's so empty. I can see the shadows of people and activities that happened here, but that's all they are ... shadows. No life. Just great memories.

Certainly my age has a bearing on some of what I can and can't do. I look back at little capsules in time and think, "You still have it, girl. Get off your duff and just do what you can". What were my dreams? To remain in control of my "self", finish college geared to a career that would fit me, travel, and marry when it fit. And most of all ... live near water. So, you ask, why do I live in the high desert? Because it's where circumstances brought me, and the clock is ticking. But hey! I still have my sense of humor and I sing out loud. Amazing how I remember the words to so many songs 😼.