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A Grin at the End: Take the time – You won’t regret it

OK, it’s time for my annual joke.

My birthday is this month. Yep, I’ll turn 17. And other than a slight case of dyslexia, I feel pretty good.

With that out of the way, I have a few things to say about getting old.

In summary, it’s not too bad. Other than an occasional time-out for heart surgery, let the record show that I’ve never felt better.

When I was younger, I spent a lot of time working. And worrying. I was one of those workaholics you hear about. I’d put in 14-plus hours a day editing a daily newspaper, including weekends.

Then, one day, it occurred to me that I was missing out. I was missing out on the woman I had married and our kids.

So I quit. We sold our house, packed the kids into our 1988 Taurus and headed down the road.

Our goal: to visit as many national parks as we could.

While professionally what I did was suicide, personally, it was the best thing I ever did. In hindsight, I am amazed my wife went along with it. But she always amazes me.

We wandered around the West, living the life of vagabonds. We camped and visited friends and relatives, making up a plan as we went.

By the time fall approached, we started looking for a place to spend the winter. I saw an ad for a weekly newspaper in Minnesota that was in need of a publisher. I figured it would do as a temporary stopover.

I didn’t stay at the newspaper, but we did stay in Minnesota for seven years.

It was the best thing we ever did. It reestablished my faith in people. Rural Minnesotans are hard-working, optimistic, earnest, stoic and honest. No whining allowed.

Having spent the previous 14 years primarily dealing with politicians – mainly blowhards and self-delusional crackpots – Minnesotans were awesome!

That stay recharged me. It was a time-out for looking into a new world of farming and finance – I worked for a few years as a stockbroker to pass the time.

I spent every free moment with my wife and kids. We worked on our 80-year-old farmhouse, grew a lot of food, raised chickens and learned all sorts of skills, from roofing to small engine repair.

And we traveled around the U.S., reminding ourselves of the wonders this great nation offers.

Every place we went we saw amazing things. A space shuttle blasting off in the middle of the night. The fury of a tornado that missed our house by less than a mile. Another tornado that skipped over the South Dakota campground where we were staying. Checking out Washington, D.C., and the history of places like Philadelphia and Boston.

The birth of our third and fourth sons.

What a wondrous time it was.

When we moved to Oregon to be close to my wife’s folks, I thought we had arrived in the promised land. So beautiful. Wonderful weather (a little rain never hurt anyone). Good people.

And the politics? Meh. I make it my business not to pay any attention to that sort of thing.

So it’s been 71 years, and counting. And I’m convinced that life, which started out good, is getting better all the time.

I feel blessed.

Carl Sampson is a freelance writer and editor. He lives in Stayton.

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