A Moving Experience
We moved a lot as children.
As a career Navy man, we moved, on average, every two years of my growing up life, until I entered 11th grade and we finally settled down in Rockford, Michigan.
Of course, that meant that a few years later I embarked on my own adventures.
I have lived in a relatively small area of the country for the last forty years, but we're moving to Michigan now.
As an adult, I have never had to deal with a move of this magnitude.
Moving to Houston in 1980 was easy. I packed everything I owned in a bag and jumped on a bus.
Two divorces, three marriages and forty years of accumulation later, Darling and I are packing to move to Cedar Springs. We're two weeks away from being in our new location.
We're excited. We're nervous. It's all a little scary.
Will the moving company hijack everything we own and hold it for ransom? Those horror stories are all over the internet. I hope they don't do that; our moving broker took a lot of money to make sure that doesn't happen.
Physically, it was easier when I was a child. Dad, Mom or the government arranged everything. Life was normal until the day of the move and then all we owned disappeared into a moving van.
One notable incident occurred in our move from Maryland to North Carolina, between my eighth and ninth grade years. I was sitting on the couch peeling an apple with Dad's pocket knife and reading a borrowed book. I went to the bathroom. When I came back the couch, apple, knife and book were gone.
Upon arrival at our new place, we found the apple, knife and book all carefully wrapped in paper in the Living Room box. The movers had a good laugh with that one.
The only time I was aware of any problems with a move was from Rhode Island to Washington State, in the middle of my third grade year (fourth grade?). Our boxes of Christmas gifts disappeared in the move. Thus my nascent career as a writer took a wrong turn with the disappearance of the typewriter I unwrapped at Christmas. My chemistry set went AWOL as well, which is probably good since I had a penchant in later years to craft (harmless) explosives.
So this move make me nervous.
But I am excited about getting back to Michigan.
As a career Navy man, we moved, on average, every two years of my growing up life, until I entered 11th grade and we finally settled down in Rockford, Michigan.
Of course, that meant that a few years later I embarked on my own adventures.
I have lived in a relatively small area of the country for the last forty years, but we're moving to Michigan now.
As an adult, I have never had to deal with a move of this magnitude.
Moving to Houston in 1980 was easy. I packed everything I owned in a bag and jumped on a bus.
Two divorces, three marriages and forty years of accumulation later, Darling and I are packing to move to Cedar Springs. We're two weeks away from being in our new location.
We're excited. We're nervous. It's all a little scary.
Will the moving company hijack everything we own and hold it for ransom? Those horror stories are all over the internet. I hope they don't do that; our moving broker took a lot of money to make sure that doesn't happen.
Physically, it was easier when I was a child. Dad, Mom or the government arranged everything. Life was normal until the day of the move and then all we owned disappeared into a moving van.
One notable incident occurred in our move from Maryland to North Carolina, between my eighth and ninth grade years. I was sitting on the couch peeling an apple with Dad's pocket knife and reading a borrowed book. I went to the bathroom. When I came back the couch, apple, knife and book were gone.
Upon arrival at our new place, we found the apple, knife and book all carefully wrapped in paper in the Living Room box. The movers had a good laugh with that one.
The only time I was aware of any problems with a move was from Rhode Island to Washington State, in the middle of my third grade year (fourth grade?). Our boxes of Christmas gifts disappeared in the move. Thus my nascent career as a writer took a wrong turn with the disappearance of the typewriter I unwrapped at Christmas. My chemistry set went AWOL as well, which is probably good since I had a penchant in later years to craft (harmless) explosives.
So this move make me nervous.
But I am excited about getting back to Michigan.
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