Retirement is not without Hassles: Tradition #1183

After 15 days away from home, I’m finally back in a comfortable routine. Yesterday was spent unpacking, sorting the mail, putting away Holiday decorations, and doing piles of laundry, followed by an evening of Fiddler On The Roof at the Keller Auditorium. Unfortunately, both my wife and I were a bit jet-lagged and still adjusting to the three-hour difference in time zones, so we only made it to intermission of the lengthy production. We had both seen it several times before and it’s still enjoyable, humorous, and thought provoking, even when cut in half. It was our first Portland Broadway Series show where we got there by public transportation. I was about to boast that we didn’t have to pay for parking either, but my wife once worked in the building next door and could use her parking space for concerts, plays, and musicals that we would attend. 

We had frugally taken the MAX and Portland Streetcar from the airport upon our return three days ago to avoid paying for for two weeks of parking. Although living downtown is relatively pricey, we are saving bits-and-pieces by walking and commuting rather than using our cars. My car is parked over at my step-daughter’s house that we will need to retrieve today, along with Falco her puppy that we’ll be dog-sitting for the weekend. Tally, our ten-year old schnauzer, will be glad to have a companion, as she still seems to be mourning the loss of big sister Tinker. She’s also been in the hands of a sitter while we were traveling, and hopefully missed us too! We lazily took my wife’s car to get groceries yesterday to give it a little action after sitting underground while we were gone. We could have walked and pulled our cart as we usually do, but once again our aging bodies were dragging from the two-week adventure of Planes, Trains, Automobiles, Shuttles, Boats, and Roller-coasters.

We might go to a movie this afternoon that has recently become a bi-weekly tradition with our annual passes. There will be no traditional “Leadership Meeting” today because we’ll all get together tomorrow for the annual Old Timer’s Baseball Banquet. I also have a baseball card luncheon tomorrow that is now a bi-annual tradition. My wife will take Tally on her traditional daily walk through the neighborhood while I write, a ritualistic morning tradition that has been interrupted as we frequently moved hotel rooms these past two weeks. Finally, I’ve returned to the traditional downtown Portland running route and radio station after fifteen days of different routes and distances that make maintaining “The Streak” of now 4,030 days even more of a challenge. Yes, traditions and routines are important in making life easier. 

Fiddler On The Roof was all about tradition, as its popular opening musical/dance number emphasizes. Here’s a family built-on the tradition of the father determining the marital fate of each of his daughters, that is eventually uprooted and split apart because of their religious beliefs. Tradition and routine gives each of us an important sense of order and comfort in dealing with the hassles and uncertainties of life. While they can become predictable and boring, it often takes a break from doing them to restore the sense of appreciation they play in our existence.  Two weeks of different cities and beds, coupled with strict schedules and entertaining grandchildren make coming home a welcome treat. I’ve gladly returned to the familiar, but will soon be ready for another travel challenge and less routine tradition:

Tradition, tradition! Tradition!
Tradition, tradition! Tradition!

Who, day and night, must scramble for a living,
Feed a wife and children, say his daily prayers?
And who has the right, as master of the house,
To have the final word at home?

The Papa, the Papa! Tradition.
The Papa, the Papa! Tradition.

Who must know the way to make a proper home,
A quiet home, a kosher home?
Who must raise the family and run the home,
So Papa’s free to read the holy book?

The Mama, the Mama! Tradition!
The Mama, the Mama! Tradition!

At three, I started Hebrew school. At ten, I learned a trade.
I hear they’ve picked a bride for me. I hope she’s pretty.

The sons, the sons! Tradition!
The sons, the sons! Tradition!

And who does Mama teach to mend and tend and fix,
Preparing me to marry whoever Papa picks?

The daughters, the daughters! Tradition!
The daughters, the daughters! Tradition!