I have been told repeatedly these last few months that the three largest stressors in life are to move, get married and start a new job.
I did them all in one month.
In October, I left my job as City Hall reporter at The Olympian, a newspaper in Olympia, Wash. where I had covered City Hall for the last seven years.
My destination: Nashville. My soon-to-be wife, Heather, was from the Music City, and missed it dearly. We were looking for a place to settle down outside of the misty regions (as Rod Serling would put it) of the Great Northwest. I liked the idea of being a short trip up I-65 to see my folks.
All the right ingredients for our move were in place. My apartment lease was ending. Heather's landlady was booting her from her place so her daughter could move in. We were to be married a month from the day I accepted my job at the Nashville Business Journal. (By the time we left, it would be two and a half weeks away.)
I called up my dad, and told him the good news. We were coming home, and he would bring us. Dad had talked for years about being available to fly out to Washington and help us move. It was nearly seven years to the day Dad and I drove cross-country to the Evergreen State for the start of my Northwestern adventure (more on that in an upcoming post.)
So Dad flew out, and what a blessing he was. We had work to do. Heather and I decided to travel light, taking only what could fit in our cars (both Honda Civics) or be mailed through the good old postal service. Much was packed, much was pitched and box after box was mailed. (By the time of my last trip to the postal counter, the long-suffering postman wished me a great trip, and said he hoped he'd never see me again.)
We packed for two solid days. Day stretched into night, and more cleaning and packing demanded our attention. Two separate households full of work awaited us. By the end of the second day, we pulled out, nearly 10 p.m. Having no other place to sleep (the beds had been sold,) we drove to just outside of Portland, Ore. It was nearly midnight when we got there.
What a trip it was! Our route took us from Portland to Salt Lake City, Arches National Park to Denver, Kansas City to My Old Kentucky Home of Bardstown, Ky. Perhaps the most memorable segment was a bit of a detour, two hours spent right at sunset at Arches National Park.
I did them all in one month.
In October, I left my job as City Hall reporter at The Olympian, a newspaper in Olympia, Wash. where I had covered City Hall for the last seven years.
My destination: Nashville. My soon-to-be wife, Heather, was from the Music City, and missed it dearly. We were looking for a place to settle down outside of the misty regions (as Rod Serling would put it) of the Great Northwest. I liked the idea of being a short trip up I-65 to see my folks.
All the right ingredients for our move were in place. My apartment lease was ending. Heather's landlady was booting her from her place so her daughter could move in. We were to be married a month from the day I accepted my job at the Nashville Business Journal. (By the time we left, it would be two and a half weeks away.)
I called up my dad, and told him the good news. We were coming home, and he would bring us. Dad had talked for years about being available to fly out to Washington and help us move. It was nearly seven years to the day Dad and I drove cross-country to the Evergreen State for the start of my Northwestern adventure (more on that in an upcoming post.)
So Dad flew out, and what a blessing he was. We had work to do. Heather and I decided to travel light, taking only what could fit in our cars (both Honda Civics) or be mailed through the good old postal service. Much was packed, much was pitched and box after box was mailed. (By the time of my last trip to the postal counter, the long-suffering postman wished me a great trip, and said he hoped he'd never see me again.)
We packed for two solid days. Day stretched into night, and more cleaning and packing demanded our attention. Two separate households full of work awaited us. By the end of the second day, we pulled out, nearly 10 p.m. Having no other place to sleep (the beds had been sold,) we drove to just outside of Portland, Ore. It was nearly midnight when we got there.
What a trip it was! Our route took us from Portland to Salt Lake City, Arches National Park to Denver, Kansas City to My Old Kentucky Home of Bardstown, Ky. Perhaps the most memorable segment was a bit of a detour, two hours spent right at sunset at Arches National Park.
After a final night spent in Bardstown, we dropped Dad off and Heather and I continued south to Nashville, where we would stay with Heather's gracious parents, Gordon and Ann. It was a week and a half before the wedding.
From here, it's a real blur. Last minute wedding preparations came fast and furious, and Nov. 2 was soon upon us. The ceremony was beautiful, as was my wife as I pushed a wedding ring onto her finger. I had the privilege of being married in the same church as my parents, the Basilica of St. Joseph Proto-Cathedral in Bardstown, by the same priest, my great uncle Joe.
From here, it's a real blur. Last minute wedding preparations came fast and furious, and Nov. 2 was soon upon us. The ceremony was beautiful, as was my wife as I pushed a wedding ring onto her finger. I had the privilege of being married in the same church as my parents, the Basilica of St. Joseph Proto-Cathedral in Bardstown, by the same priest, my great uncle Joe.
The uncertainty of whether I would get a new job led both of us to delay booking our honeymoon. I can say with all honesty that I booked our room the morning of our wedding. Two days later, we left for Miami Beach and five blissful days in South Florida.
Two days after returning from the honeymoon, I started my new job. But we were now a single married unit. We needed our own space, but the house on which we signed a lease was not available until December.
Again, life had other plans for us. We moved into the parsonage of a Baptist church where Heather's father is pastor, and stayed there for three weeks. Then another move. Then the holidays, and a new year. New challenges, new joys.
Folks, it's possible to do a lot of stressful life changes at once and get them out of the way. But I wouldn't recommend it. As the fine print on the car commercials says: "Do Not Attempt."
Two days after returning from the honeymoon, I started my new job. But we were now a single married unit. We needed our own space, but the house on which we signed a lease was not available until December.
Again, life had other plans for us. We moved into the parsonage of a Baptist church where Heather's father is pastor, and stayed there for three weeks. Then another move. Then the holidays, and a new year. New challenges, new joys.
Folks, it's possible to do a lot of stressful life changes at once and get them out of the way. But I wouldn't recommend it. As the fine print on the car commercials says: "Do Not Attempt."