Home is where the heart is

Gone but not forgotten
As we slowly pack up our condo
in Lewistown, one can't help but
feel nostalgic. For eight years this
has truly been "home". We have
lived full time in other places until
recently. Oddly those apartments
where we spent the majority of our
time were just spaces where we ate
and slept. What makes your abode
a "home"? There's no easy answer
given a unique combination of all
sorts of factors blend together to
create a "home". Here's my recipe...

All in the family
There's a reason people gather to
live in the same place. Whether
it's blood, love, friendship, or just
circumstance, something drives us
to cohabitate. The intimacy that
results is a strong elixir that can
inspire or alienate depending on
a variety of factors. When it isn't
working, most can't wait to move
out. Yet when the group dynamic
is right, suddenly a rather ordinary
physical space can suddenly be
transformed into a lair of love.

Time sensitive material
Time changes everything. Tenure
seems to fuel our sense of home.
As we moved from city to city in
four year spurts, our abodes never
had the time to become "home".
Whereas Lewistown has been part
of our conjoined life for nineteen
years and our condo for over eight.
Slowly the continuity of that single
shared space anchored us. It was
our insurance policy. No matter
what might happen, it was always
there. We could always go "home"!

Room mates
Anyone who's ever looked for a new
house or apartment knows it. That
feeling one gets when you walk in
the door. Rather than just a space, you
connect with this environment. It just
feels right and you know you can make
it a home. Whatever causes this love
connection differs for each of us. Yet
what's magical is when two or more all
agree. That's when it's time to sign on
the dotted line and start packing. Once
you truly make it yours, you're "home".
Call it chemistry or kismet, it's magic!

A few of my favorite things
I don't know about you but we've
got a lot of baggage. Years ago,
post checking into any hotel, I
immediately rearranged all of the
furniture before unpacking my
things. A few silver framed photos
and a candle and voila - it was now
my space. I've moved on from that
sort of mania. However possessions
can transform a box into a unique
and personal space. Simply putting
one's mark on wherever we reside
tells everyone you're "home".

Heart to hearth
I've learned over the years that things
don't really matter, people do. Now
don't get me wrong, I adore lovely
things.  That said, the rhythm of our
lives and resulting memories are what
make a house a "home". In hindsight,
I rarely dream of my parent's decor.
What I recall is the loving touch of
my Mother's hand or the joy in my
father's laugh. We create memories
not things. Who and how you share
your life is how you build a"home".
Go ahead... click your ruby slippers!

All dressed up, no place to go

Early bird special
Without local air service, we've
now become an airport shuttle.
The other day on our way home
from Billings we stopped off for
an early supper at The Busy Bee
Cafe in Roundup. Given we pass
through only two towns during our
two hour drive, our dining options
are limited. We knew the Busy Bee
had a "Broasted" Chicken Dinner
Special. Plus they make a damned
good Rhubarb Custard Pie! Just
what we needed on the way home!

Keep it simple
Even though is was around 3 p.m.
and a national holiday the place
was packed. It was filled with all
of the usual suspects... cowboys,
ranchers, ladies lunching, and a
family chowing down. We settled
into our booth, got comfy, and then
ordered from our friendly waitress.
I love local places like this as they
always capture the essence of their
community. The Busy Bee is simple,
spotless, and in it's way... humble.
And that's just the way I like it.

What are you staring at?
Suddenly a larger than life gravely
growl broke our solitude. "How are
you sweetie?!" Strolling across the
room was a lady of advanced age.
All dolled up in her wash and wear
floral pantsuit, heels, and jewelry,
she seemed ready for anything. Her
makeup amply yet carefully applied.
Her head topped by a lush mound of
brown curls shaped into a massive
beehive. She was mesmerizing.
Frank and I couldn't stop staring.
She was a sight to behold...

Repeat performance
She had obviously not dressed for
an afternoon at The Busy Bee. It
was obvious that her appearance
was not an isolated incident. In a
town where everybody looks like
they just rolled out of bed, you've
got to respect an old gal for putting
on the dog! Over the top, she sat
and chatted with the table next to
us. Keenly aware of our interest,
it was apparent that at one time
she could work a room and honey,
she was busy as a bee!

Bar none
Upon closer inspection all that
glittered was not gold. Her coif
was obviously a wig. A few grey
wisps peeked out from the back
of her neck. Her dangling earrings
were of the plastic variety. Her
makeup slightly smudged. None
of that mattered when combined
with her repartee. After several
minutes of chit chat, she loudly
announced that she would be at
the bar sipping a glass of wine.
Suddenly the room felt empty.

Tales of the city
Don't you wonder about gals like her?
Where does she live? What does she
do? And most important, what is her
story? Mother considered women like
her "coarse". However I think there's
nothing as vulnerable than an elderly
broad. You see, they once knew how
to leverage their assets. Sadly as time
advances, assets became liabilities.
Will I someday sit in a booth in my
tattered designer regalia telling tales
of my youth in Manhattan? Stranger
things have happened... who knows?

Oh baby...

Top man
As an escapee from all pretentious,
I try to forget the life I just left. This
morning as the sun came up I read
one of the fashion rags. There was
an interview with Tom Ford about
his CFDA Lifetime Achievement
Award. As one who worshipped at
his Gucci and Saint Laurent altars,
he was once my ultimate hero. Sexy,
sophisticated, and stable - just like
his designs. Then he moved on as
did I... only with my shirt no longer
unbuttoned to my navel.

All that matters
Within this morning's missive, Tom
waxed eloquently about the simpler
things in life. After twenty seven years
together, he and his partner finally got
hitched. Why? Well first, because they
were able to make their union legal.
But more important because they are
now parent's of a young lad named
"Jack". What I found most interesting
was that Tom stated parenthood had
tempered his ambition. Suddenly all
that once seemed so important no
longer seemed to matter...

Backlash
Given Tom is fifty two, I doubt
parenthood is the sole cause of
his mellowing. Rather, with age
comes peace of mind. After all,
he's been there... done everyone.
At some point you reach an apex
where all you've achieved simply
isn't enough. Then you discover
that the love of a tiny tot is more
valuable than a London flat in the
Albany. Fortunately for Mr. Ford,
he figured it out before it's too late.
I couldn't be happier for him.

What a loser
Some of us didn't wait until our fifties
to have children. Youth and natural
instincts hit us early on and before we
knew it we were parents. Some of us
were able to nimbly balance ambition
and parenthood. Women by their very
nature are the most skilled at having it
all. Most men are weak and ill advised.
Somehow I was never as astute nor as
willing to defer my drive to succeed.
That meant that my personal life was
often not my priority. Instead of playing
with my kids I was toiling at the office.

Buttoned up?
Youth is wasted on the young. If
only I knew then what I know now.
Cliches aside, I share the reality that
I probably wasted the best years of
my life with Tom Ford. While I now
possess a rather smart museum of
couture honoring his élan, I doubt
my children ever appreciated that
Saint Laurent Safari Jacket as much
as I did. Costumes aside, I never had
the time to fully assume my leading
role as a parent. And that is one of
my greatest regrets. What a waste.

Move along...
Can you really have it all? Sitting
yesterday at brunch with Frank's
parents I have hope. Both in their
nineties, I'm sure they made many
mistakes. Yet the amalgam of their
kindness and generosity continues
to benefit them into their golden
years. Let's assume that I wasted
half of my life. Now may be my
opportunity to do something that
actually means something. Let's
face it, I'm older and wiser. It's
time to do something about it!

A babe in the woods

Ruby Tuesday
This morning I got a most lovely note
from my former boss. Having escaped
the corporate arena several years ago,
she's since traveled the world and has
refocused life from career to caprice.
Her "journey" has been inspiring to
many, especially to me. All because
post corporate life, she's transformed
into a happy and fulfilled person like
a butterfly breaking out of it's cocoon.
After admiring her freedom from afar,
I decided to do exactly the same thing.
Over a month later, thank God I did.

Not for everyone
I'm not suggesting that everyone
has this problem. Many seem to
be able to effectively balance work
and life. However high performers,
those who climb to the top of the
corporate ladder tend to allow work
to totally consume them. Stepping
back, one can't help but assume that
the cause for this phenomena is just
ambition, the drive to succeed. But
in reality, I would argue that for some
it's simply the work itself. They love
what they do and therefore can't stop!

Freedom awaits
Then one day we realize that work
isn't enough. Often that decision is
made for us. Having watched many
move on post "package", there is in
my opinion no greater gift. Exiting
the momentum of mania enables us
to step back, re-evaluate, and course
correct. Suddenly all that consumed
us no longer matters. That burden
of the world off our shoulders, we
finally have a chance to do whatever
we want. If we're brave enough to
finally be and do what's natural!

Forest from the trees
Don't get me wrong, it's not easy.
"R" cautioned me to be prepared
to doubt my decision to leave it
all behind. In my new life, a title
or job description does not define
who I am. Nobody can tell me
what to do and that means I must
figure it out myself. Walking away
from all that once fulfilled leaves
a void. While only a novice on the
journey, I'm slowly realizing that
the person I've always been was
waiting for a chance to blossom.

Hope on the horizon
With age comes the wisdom of
knowing yourself fairly well.
Over the past weeks I've been
reconnecting with "me". Deep
within is a natural, god given
creativity that transcends all
aspects of my existence. In the
past, I channelled most of it at
the office. Now I can refocus
and enrich my life and world.
While I don't have any answers,
I'm confident, comfortable, and
most important, optimistic.

Time heals everything
For now that Passion Pit consumes.
I'm doing everything possible to not
apply pressure on myself. Summer
will be all about establishing our new
home here in Lewistown. Come fall,
we plan to travel for a few weeks
and escape. Winter is both a time of
solitude or isolation here in Montana.
I plan to use those quiet months to
figure out "next". Frankly I have no
idea what that is and for the first time
in my life... I plan to stop, pause,
contemplate, and savor ambiguity.

The half and half diet

Pit stop
Now that it's June, we should be
fully moved into the Passion Pit.
Optimism aside, the reality is that
installing our Living Room mantle
has deferred our dream for a bit.
It's worth the wait and so we wait.
At this point we've conquered the
construction dust in the majority
of the house. Once we're able to
remove the cardboard that covers
the Hall and Living Room floors,
the last of the dreaded dust will
settle. One word... PATIENCE!

Gotta go
Nothing has stopped us from daily
transferring our worldly goods into
our new home. One of the basement
storage rooms is almost filled to the
rafters with "give/sell". Slowly we're
editing and finding out that seven
thousand square feet and three floors
may not be enough for two hoarders!
So far we haven't found anything we
truly need in the back of a closet or
in our three storage lockers. Rather
it's just stuff that hopefully somebody
else can use. One word... PURGE!

Step it up
I have discovered what I call the
moving work out. Since moving
to Montana full time, I have lost
sixteen pounds! Frankly I'm not
dieting. I'm drinking as after a
long day of schlepping, packing,
unpacking, and cleaning, it's time
for a cocktail! It must be trekking
up and down those stairs all day,
that certainly works up a sweat.
Keep your fingers crossed, I've
only got forty more pounds to go!
One word... PUSH!

Who are you?
My greatest discovery is "me". I'm
simply loving not working. While
stating that may not a professional
statement... I'm not a professional
anymore so who cares? Slowly a bit
of the old me comes back everyday.
I'm reconnecting with myself and
doing what I love which is being
in Lewistown with Frank full time.
Not a day goes by that I don't look
at him and say "God I'm happy!"
I don't want this joy to ever end.
One word... PLEASURE!

Leave of absence
Will I get bored after we're finally
ensconced in the Passion Pit? Who
knows? Even more important, who
cares? I've got all the time in the
world to figure out "next". For the
first time in my life I'm not worried
about anything. Having worked
every day since 1973... I was a bit
distracted. I've taken care of many
others along the way yet somehow
set myself aside. Finally, I'm where
I want to be and it's fabulous.
One word... PARADISE!

7th Day Surprise - BIG SKY

BIG SKY COUNTRY

Maybe I'm an ingenue

but I still occassionally stand in awe

and gaze at our Montana skies.

Following are some of Frank's photos

of our local sky

and paintings of our environs by

Charles Russell

Albert Bierstadt

Bill Stockton,

and James Bason.

James Bason's work is available for purchase at 

www.jamesbason.com 

Albert Bierstadt - Cloud Study

James Bason - Merrill

Bill Stockton - Chinese Mountain

Charles Russell - In The Enemy's Country 

Frank J. Valach Photograph

James Bason - Felicienn II

Charles Russell - Fighting Meat 

Frank J. Valach Photograph

Frank J. Valach Photograph

James Bason - Highwoods and Evening Clouds

James Bason - Highwoods and Rain Clouds

Charles Russell - When The Land Belonged To God 

Frank J. Valach - Sunset Through Our Condo Window Screen

Albert Bierstadt - Buffalo On Montana Plains

James Bason - Western Skies