FF 27 – My Life Now Is A Question by Kathy Sanford

I moved to Georgia (USA) from New York State twice, 47 years apart.

The first time, in 1976, I was 16 and looking forward to my senior year in high school. Before that, I had been born in New Jersey and lived in an upstairs flat with a cement back yard from when I was 2 until I was 13. We spent most summer days at a nearby lake, except for the two weeks we went down the shore.

We moved to New York State when my parents bought our first house. Three years later, whichever company owned Wonder Bread transferred my father to Atlanta.

I majored in geology at the University of Georgia. Within 4 years of graduation, I trained as a petroleum exploration geologist in Tulsa, worked as an oilfield hand in Eunice, New Mexico, did petroleum development geology in Oklahoma City and started my 3-decade career in New York State government as a Mineral Resources Specialist.

For a few years in my late 20s and early 30s I owned a Jazzercise franchise and taught classes.

Jim was an Environmental Engineer whose office was down the hall from mine, fewer than 100 steps away. We didn’t meet until I ran a personal ad based on a Jimmy Buffett short story. He answered with lyrics from the corresponding Jimmy Buffett song. We got married. Together we visited New England, Charleston, Savannah, Florida, San Antonio, Santa Fe, the Caribbean, Ireland, Italy and Salzburg. The Barefoot Windjammer SV Polynesia twice took us from St. Maarten to St. Kitts, Nevis, St. Barts and Anguilla. Margaritaville Travel Adventures took us to the Keys, the Gulf Coast from Pensacola to New Orleans, Bimini, and Belize. We enjoyed pirate parties, Renaissance fairs and waterside festivals. For 15 years, we coordinated our Church’s giving tree. Jim built ship models from scratch and carved shorebird decoys. In early December, two parishes knew him as St. Nicholas.

We had a cat named Tequila who lived to be 17, and hounds named Guinevere, Grania and Tristan who each lived to be 14.

Grania and Tristan outlived Jim. His heart switched off without warning 26 years, 2 months and 1 week after we married. He was 66. I had just turned 59. Death parted us 7 weeks before our scheduled move to Tybee Island, Georgia, where we had bought our retirement home.

Five years later, after a pandemic, two hip replacements and sending both hounds to be with Jim, I finally moved to Tybee. Now I live with a crazy, young cattle doodle mix named Cara. We start almost every day at the dog park. I belong to the local Parrot Head Club and a writers’ workshop in Savannah. I also hold memberships in the local theater, marine science center and historical society.

My debut novel, Retire to An Island, They Said, is in the developmental editing stage. I have completed the first draft of its sequel, Salty Pause.

In addition to sharing here since 2017, I post some of my writing at writingisnotlikeknitting.net.