CSotD: Shorebird
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I was at my school reunion this past weekend. The place is too small to make individual class reunions practical, so we just all get together and chip in for a buffet. It's really more of a "homecoming" celebration without the football game.
When I was growing up, it was a miningtown, but the mines closed a quarter-century or so ago, leaving only the paper mill in the next village, which has now also closed. Most of us moved away, some have stayed.
I talked to a classmate who commutes 75 miles each way to a job he didn't describe but which I suspect is pretty much "laborer." He's probably the one who goes the farthest for the least payoff, but the word "probably" says a lot. There are plenty of my friends who literally go to great lengths to live in our hometown, some to good jobs, some to any jobs.
However, we're at an age where retirement either looms or is now, and this week's arc on "Between Friends" is striking chords for me.
One summer, back when we were all half the age we are now and the mines and mill were open but I was living elsewhere, I was home for vacation and thought about how great it would be to have a little place on the lake and just sit and watch the sunset each evening.
But Maeve is right about lakeside pricing, and, besides, the people who live in those idyllic little spots of beauty don't get to sit and watch the sunset every evening because, even when the mills and mines are open, well, there are only a few times a year that you're not in one or the other of them at sunset, and maybe sunrise, too.
And for those who farm or cut timber or both, the days are even longer.
Which I don't have to tell "Between Friends" creator Sandra Bell Lundy, because, though she lives in Ontario, she has roots on the Rock, and Newfoundland is full of spectacularly gorgeous places where you can't make a living, though in that case, it's more to do with the collapse of the Atlantic fisheries than the closings of mines and paper mills.
Today, however, many of my friends who put in those long hours and went through those hard times are retired and have their houses paid for and can, indeed, enjoy the sunsets, while some who went away have retired and returned and found inexpensive homes with beautiful views of the forest, even if they can't quite swing a place on that expensive waterfront.
And, while it didn't come up this time around, I know from previous conversations that even inheriting that lakeside property your family's been on for decades can be a mixed blessing, since taxes are based on what it's worth, not what you paid for it.
And one thing about country living is that there are miles of road and of utility lines and a school, however shrinking its enrollment, to maintain, and there simply aren't that many people to divvy up the cost.
Still, if you don't actually need the shoreline, a soft and gentle retirement in a quiet and welcoming setting can happen.
The trick is to work hard enough to pull it off, but not so hard that you don't quite make it that far, and to somehow bolster yourself against the realities of an economy that isn't in much better shape than you are.
Which adds a bit of grim truth to the already-gallows-humor in today's Pardon My Planet.
And to bring this back to Sandra's roots, take warning: One way to dramatically reduce your lifespan is to mess around with those girls from Harbor le Cou:
Mike Peterson has posted his "Comic Strip of the Day" column every day since 2010. His opinions are his own, but we welcome comments either agreeing or in opposition.
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