Announcement--In Lieu of San Francisco Diary

I will be among the missing for a few days, and I wanted to share two major developments with my loyal readers. The first is solemn news that turned out well. The second is great news that turned out even better. And both will come as a surprise to most of you. I held off letting all of you know until I had everything firmly in hand.

First, the solemn news that turned out well. Back in early October of last year, I had begun to feel some discomfort which turned suddenly into rather excruciating pain overnight. My son Chris came rushing to my place and took me straight to my doctor's office. Within 24 hours, I had been diagnosed with an exotic form of lymphoma. Now stop thinking what you're thinking. I told you it turned out well. I was quickly operated on by two specialists to determine that it was not connected in any way with my prior aorto-bifemoral arterial bypass, and to do a full biopsy. The result was that there was no involvement with the bypasses, and though the cancer had started to spread to other lymph nodes, it was nowhere near full metastisization.

I have been fortunate to have great doctors by every standard known to the medical profession, and none have ever lost the personal touch. At all stages, my personal physician, my cardio-vascular surgeon, and my new oncologist constantly conferred and kept me fully informed. Once I got past the "how long do I have?" question, my fatherly oncologist chuckled, and said "how long do you want?" This is a form of cancer which is highly-susceptible to chemotherapy. I had six long chemotherapy sessions spread over a little less than six months, at approximately three week intervals. Peeing bright orange after the sessions was my favorite side-effect. Three weeks ago, I was declared 100% cancer-free.

Though my family is spread out all over California, it was all I could do to convince them that I was going to be fine, and they didn't need to drop everything to tend to dad. My son, who lives in Berkeley, was a great help at the panicky early stages. He and his wife ferried me to the early appointments, and checked in on me briefly (as I requested--briefly) several times a week. The girls called regularly, and e-mailed me daily. Even my ex added her two cents by telling the girls to calm down, "he's indestructible." I'm not sure that was a compliment, but it worked.

But having a brush with a deadly disease causes the mind to focus. As you know, I've wanted to move out of San Francisco for a very long time. Events, lethargy, business reasons, and just plain inertia after I retired kept me here. This was just the jolt I needed. I got family, and friends in Arizona and Nevada, started on looking for potential places for me to move to. It wasn't going well, and I was beginning to think that I was never going to find a place in California that wouldn't require living in, shall we say "reduced circumstances," and I really didn't want to move even farther from my girls and my eight grandkids. I saw them little enough as it was.

My younger daughter has a large piece of property in the low Tehachapi mountains. She and her family have been building their own home there for some time now. She suggested that I could move onto a portion of her property. My thought was, "I want to be close, but not that close." But prices in the area came up, and I couldn't believe things were so affordable there. So I gave her marching orders. Find me a place in the general area. She's a smart cookie, and knew better than I what I was looking for.

Long story longer, after a few mis-steps and bad leads, we found the perfect place. As of June 1, I will become landed gentry (or as I told Andrew, a redneck, or a farmer, or a country rustic--something like that). 3 1/2 glorious acres of rolling hills, oak trees, and most importantly, peace and quiet at last. For those of you familiar with California's non-urban/suburban areas, it's located in Caliente, California, in the Walker Basin area near the Sequoia National Forest. It's high desert, low mountains, and it's only about 3.75 miles from my daughter's place. She's in the real forest nearly a thousand feet higher than my property.

I knew she had found the right home for me when she said it has a two-bedroom, two bath, full amenities house with a two-car detached garage, and a root cellar. I haven't seen a root cellar since my summer stays at my aunt's farm in Iowa when I was a youngster. Not sure what I'll do with it, but folks, I have a root cellar. And seasons, four of them. It snows during the winter there, but not the depth of snow that she gets 1,000 feet higher where they occasionally get snowed-in. For those of you who know high desert, it also gets very hot during the summer, which I'm used to from my years in the San Fernando Valley and Simi Valley. Spring and fall are more like San Francisco weather, without the icy blasts off the Bay.

So the good news is I have a great new home, and my full health (though thanks to the chemotherapy, not my full head of hair for awhile). I'll be fifteen minutes from one daughter and her family and a little over two hours from the other and her family. Chris and his wife visit Southern California multiple times each year, so I'll probably see as much of them there as I normally do here. My two older grandsons are accomplished archers, and they'll be ecstatic to be able to practice without having to worry about accidentally shooting the neighbor's dog, or the neighbor, for that matter.

The bad news is, I'll have to come up with something to replace my San Francisco Diary. Andrew and I have kicked around a few ideas, like "The Farm Report," or "The Rustic Chronicles." I'm still working on it. So now you know why I'll be out of touch for a few days while I get settled in. No DSL, and no cable, so I have to get set up on satellite. Meanwhile, I'm still adapting to the idea that I'll have my own well, and therefore, no water company to bill me each month. And the concept that I might see an occasional stray horse or cow, but nary a single homeless person with his hand out thrills me more than you could ever know. Instead, I can sit out on the redwood deck that overlooks the basin, and contemplate God's green earth. And then there's that one requirement I most emphasized--I can walk out any door, and look out any window, and not see another human being that I don't want to see.

I'll be back online as soon as possible, and I'll be chatting with all of you then.