This is the wall that surrounds our property in El Paso. It’s the Wonder Wall.
El Paso is so far from New England I could scream out loud sometimes, but there are a lot of things I really like about living here that are hard for people to understand.
I’m thinking maybe that’s my fault, as I spend most of my time talking about all the things I don’t like. But in all honesty, that’s what some people like to hear. I think it makes them feel better about living in the same place their whole lives. I’m talking mostly about my family and I’m not trying to be unkind when I say that. I fully understand it because I used to be the same way; hearing that you’re better off staying at home is very comforting.
But I had this nagging guilt that living in the same house in the same town for 30 years was probably not the true definition of living, and this might not be how it’s supposed to go. Yet I wasn’t happy about the idea of stepping outside my comfort zone to try anything new and different, not that different anyway. I admit to feeling better about my decision to stay put whenever I heard horror stories about people who had ventured off of Cape Cod and failed. It wasn’t total schadenfreude, but it was comforting. Like when I watched a friend move to Belize and it turned into a scene from Mosquito Coast, and the couple who moved just over the bridge to Plymouth and ended up moving back to the Cape in less than a year because they couldn’t seem to assimilate. It wasn’t that I wanted these folks to fail, but hearing that they had made me feel like I was doing the right thing by never leaving.
I was basically forced into leaving because of love, opportunity, and a fear of becoming an old lady who spent her whole life standing in one spot. The latter was an especially powerful fear that was swelling within me and, in retrospect, I now know that I was well on my way to making it a reality. When the 
kids were growing up we were always trying new things, going places, keeping active. But when they started approaching their 20s things kind of tapered off and quieted down, and somehow without realizing it I’d become timid. I did not want this queer timidity that had taken hold of me in later years to be the example I set for my children. I wanted them to continue to go out and grab life, try new things, and never be fearful of the unknown no matter how old they were. Even though Buck always set a good example in this category, I knew that if I didn’t also set an example for them, they wouldn’t fully get the message. And I really-really wanted them to get the message.
With that in mind, as well as the job opportunities on Cape Cod having dwindled while the traffic problem continued to worsen, I didn’t see any reason to fight Buck anymore on his argument that it was time for our Act II and we needed to move on. He was right, opportunity does get tired of knocking, and I’d refused to open the door so many times I couldn’t be sure it would ever coming knocking again.
So here we are in Texas, of all places, and it goes without saying that I miss everybody. But the fact of the matter — and it’s an important fact – is that there are a lot of things I like about our life in El Paso. I think I should start letting people know.
One of the things I treasure about living here is our privacy, and I attribute it to this wonderful wall you see in the photo at the very top of this post. This wall is so wonderful, I call it the Wonder Wall. Made of stone and standing at six-feet-tall, it surrounds our entire property and keeps our dogs in and nosy neighbors out. From the outside it is a fortress, but from the inside it’s hidden by some Southwestern variety of azalea that blooms from May to November with pink and white flowers. Granted, they’re the only flowers that can live in our Mexican-oven of a backyard, but they’re lovely and I’m grateful for them. I’ll take a photo in the spring, but here is how it looks this afternoon:
This wall might not seem like a big deal to some people, but it is to us. We would never be able to afford a six-foot stone wall surrounding our property in New England (we had a ratty stockade fence that was in constant need of repair). So that’s one thing I’m really loving about El Paso, that our dollar goes so much farther here and we’ve got a Wonder Wall to remind us of it.
Now I need to go take a nap, and that’s another thing I love about El Paso. No, not the siestas, though I do love those. It’s the fact that in this house we have so many wonderful spots in which to nap. This afternoon, I’ll be reading and napping here on this couch in a corner of our kitchen. That’s another thing we’d never be able to afford in New England, a kitchen big enough to add a napping corner. G’night, sweet dreams, and adios for now.
Well, I certainly understand how you feel. I am glad Damon has left the Cape. I miss him terribly but I think it’s good for him to be somewhere else. He’s already seen more of this country then I ever will especially because I rarely go over the bridge.
I think Sarah and Obie will always want to be on the Cape. They are both born Cape Codders. Since I live with them and will forever, I will always be here too. That’s fine with me. Everyone I care for is here except for Damon and he needs to spread his wings.
I don’t know what I would do if I had the opportunity to move somewhere else. I think I am the old lady that can stay in one spot and be happy about it. No regrets.
Bobbie and I sent you a Cape Cod Care package today to remind you of home. One of the things I sent you has nothing to do with Cape Cod. It has to do with Bulgaria. That ought to keep you guessing. The other two I contributed definitely have to do with Cape Cod.
Awesome wall. That’s a work of art.
That ‘over the bridge’ thing is so real it’s scary for an outsider like me. I’d never experienced anything like it until I started spending so much time down there. I heard the phrase,
“No, sorry, no, that’s over the bridge.”
So often I began to think they thought of it as some type of monster or time machine. If they made it over then all hell would break loose! Women would be showing their knees! Men would be all crazy with that boogie woogie music! And don’t get me started on those kids! They speak without being spoken to!
I’m not saying Cape Codders are backwoods buffoon, I’ve met many great and nice people, some of whom have indoor plumbing AND electricity, but that bridge thing is very funny to me.
I recently talked to a friend who lives on the North shore near a bridge city and he says those people are the same. Leaving is like a trip to the Himalayas.
We were at a Cape bar when the tile fell off the big dig tunnel and one guy freaked out saying that he was never going to go over the bridge again. That was the final sign for him. He started talking to us and we told him we were driving right under that tunnel in the morning.
To this day I don’t know if his expression considered us brave or foolhardy.
@ Joan – please don’t let it be saltwater taffy please don’t let it be saltwater taffy please… Just kiddin.
Wow, I’ll look forward to it. Thanks, you guys. And I’m glad Damon’s off the Cape and having a lifetime adventure. It’s wonderful for him. But never say never about yourself not leaving. I once went six or seven or years without crossing the bridge. It was fine at the time, and then I decided I wanted to cross the bridge.
@ Bound and Gags – You are hilarious. That whole “women showing their knees …” thing made me laugh out loud. Buck has always felt the same as you about it. But it’s true, the bridge becomes a monster you don’t want to face, and once you get on-Cape you don’t want to go off-Cape because it’s too much trouble. I definitely used to feel like anything off-Cape was none of my business. The Big Dig was an excellent excuse not to leave, and then when it all started falling apart and killing people, it became scary to leave the Cape. I’m braver now. I’d drive right through that tunnel.
I love your wall. I covet your wall. I have always wanted to be walled in. No more having to watch the showering Flavullis, no more watching the Fats trundle through their yard.
Santa B.
I totally get the Act II thing. I’ve been a mom my entire adult life. Now I have to figure out what to do now that my kids are adults and have their own journeys. Maybe that’s why I’ve been obsessing on South Carolina or other locales. Maybe that’s why I’m going to win that HGTV Dream Home in the Florida Keys. Since being so badly burned in my last divorce, I’ve been seriously afraid of venturing far from home. My home has been my fortress in which to keep out the pain of relationships, but it also keeps out the joy of the right ones coming in. I know that intellectually.
Anyhow, tomorrow, I’m venturing forth and going to go listen to some live music somewhere nearby and hopefully see some friends I haven’t seen in a while.
One thing I’d love about living where you live is the sun and the constant warmth. And you have a beautiful home. Seriously.
I promise you- no taffy. That stuff just mucks up your teeth and my face hurts after chewing it.
Actually, nothing we sent you is edible. This stuff is way cooler.
@ Little Miss – I think you and I have both been moms since we were 19, so I’m right with you on the weirdness of facing the second half of life without the focus being on kids. I had no idea what it’s like to think of yourself first, and for me it feels like I’ve lost all sense of balance and could fall over at any given second. The urge to hide and pretend it’s not happening wasn’t getting better, it was getting worse. Moving here has helped a lot with that and forced me to focus on new things. I do really love this house, and it’s true that we couldn’t have afforded it in New England. Sad, but true. The mild weather is a plus. I didn’t realize how tense I was in the cold and how bleak my outlook got in the winter until I left the brutal weather behind. The first two winters here I kept bracing myself for the worst, and it never came.
@ Joan – Excellent, I’m very excited!
I love the pictures you take inside your home. Everything is beautiful and interesting.
We are glad to have you here in Texas. (Even though you’re closer to L.A. than Fort Worth! haha
)
Great post Wendy. Often wondered what brought you folks from Cape Cod to Texas, and this sheds some light on it, so thank you. That snapshot of you and the kids is so cute! Where was that taken? We had our kids when we were still kids (early 20s) too but I think we got shoved into Act II after losing our son. So we’re probably looking to Act III or at least an Intermission. Intermission with grandchildren hopefully.
Your home in El Paso really looks cozy. Wonderwall- it looks to be of fairly recent construction- it’s spectacular. That warm weather- doesn’t it make you want to go for a bike ride?
@ Lucky – Thank you for liking my house, and for welcoming me to Texas. Come to the think of it, I think you’re the first Texan to formally welcome me. I do appreciate it, so thank you!
@ David – That photo was taken in the vicinity of Tilton, New Hampshire, while on vacation, though we can’t remember exactly where.
Geez, David, I had no idea you’ve lost a son. I’m so sorry to hear that. You and your family know better than anyone the strangeness of Act II and III, and I hope this period brings you a wonderful grandchild with a whole new celebration of childhood — all pizza and fairytales this time around, with none of the 2 AM feedings!
You are so very welcome!
I thought it looked like NH!
Thanks for your sympathy Wendy. It’s been just about 15 years (posted on it last April- tear jerker warning-) and certainly did advance the show an act or two. Acts strange and wonderful!
Looking forward to being a grandpa for all the reasons you wrote.
Tangent- I think it was you who recommended The Life Aquatic right? Just finished watching it and I wasn’t sure for the first hour, but I think I loved it.
This post has such a beautiful feel to it. The pictures, the memories of the past and the description of the present. I completely understand that feeling of being comforted by the knowns, yet realizing that there’s so much more “out there.”
After living in Arkansas for seventeen years (due to an agreement I made with my ex-husband to keep the kids near him), I was ready to make a change, but it was just terrifying. I think it took me about a year-and-a-half to finally do it. I will never forget driving into Ohio with my daughter. We felt like pioneer women in a Penske van. It was fantastic!
There will always be people and things that I miss (especially my daughter, who decided she hated Ohio and moved back), but I’m so glad to have created some movement in my life. The safety net will always be there should I need to go back.
There I go, rambling again, but I really did love this post. And the wall is amazing.
I was born in El Paso. People like to make fun of me from being from Mexico, but I have much pride about El Paso. Once, my brother found skulls in the empty lot across the street. I live in Israel now, it looks just like El Paso except there’s a Sea. And we have Sudanese refugees crossing the border instead of Mexicans. Oh..and no 7-11’s.
@ David – I knew you knew it was NH! And yes, I recommended The Life Aquatic. It’s one of those odd movies that grows on you after you’ve seen it. The first time I watched it I wasn’t sure what I thought of it, then later I decided I needed to see it again, and I ended up buying it. I watch it fairly often.
Thank you for the link to your post about Dan. It was beautiful, and I left you a comment over there.
@ MBMQ – You don’t ramble at all, so don’t ever think that. I’m really glad you shared a similar experience, because it is terrifying in a way that most people can’t understand unless they’ve done it. I loved your choice of the words “creating movement” in life, because that sums it up so well.
@ Ginrod – Hi, and thanks for stopping by! Wow, Israel is quite a change. I’m glad the scenery is somewhat familiar for you, and having the ocean near must be nice. It seem kind of weird not seeing a 7-Eleven on every corner!
A napping nook in your kitchen????
That is officially heaven on earth
And I know I’ve told you this before, but I love the warmly coloured walls in your home!
PS: just what you said about wanting your kids to go out and grab life…wow….you are such a great mom…seriously, I may not know what it means to have a grown up with an example like that, but it can only be a good thing!
Great post.
El paso is lame. Your house is so cool. There is some sort of law from the 1800’s that says that rock walls have to be built. I think it is cause of the dust storms and cause we have the availability of rocks. Whenever I have traveled to other cities I find it an odd feeling to see houses with no fences or simple rinkydink wooden fences or chain link fences separating each neigbors yard. When I was a kid the neighbors and I would pick a rock on the fence and extract it from the cement wall like it was a fossil. El paso is lame but I’m glad not so lame to make you and buck and sydney, timmy,and stella, want to leave.
I heard that you’re sick! Hope you feel better very soon, we miss you!
*hugs
I think the place in El Paso looks great but I can understand missing the Cape. Lot’s to miss.
I’m from NE so I can feel a bit of your “home” heartache.
MoonBeam said you were feeling less than adequate and I just wanted to stop by and say keep the faith.
Home is where the heart is. I’m thinking you knew that anyway.
Some interesting stuff here, Buck.
I promise to return when I have a bit more time.
be safe, be well
~m