HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS
The first home I ever owned was sailing vessel Exit Only.
The dream of house ownership never appealed to me, and I have
steadfastly resisted any passing and weak urges to buy a house.
On the other hand, all of my adult life I have had an overwhelming
desire to own and cruise on a small yacht.
When we lived in Saudi Arabia, we camped more than sixty nights
per year in the desert. For those sixty plus days and
nights, our Land Rover Defender was our home. I know that
the Defender was our home, because when we were out in the desert,
that was where our heart was.
Now that I am working in Phoenix earning Freedom Chips, I have a
terrible confession to make. I purchased a house, but it
wasn't because I wanted to. It was out of self-defense.
While we were living in Fort Lauderdale, robbers were holding up
banks with AK-47s, and we lived in a gated and guarded marina.
Things are similar, but different in Phoenix. When I arrived
in Phoenix, I couldn't tell whether I was in a 45 caliber zone or
a 38 caliber zone. That made finding a place to live
somewhat difficult.
I finally figured out that I had to make a choice. If I
wanted to be safe working in this section of the world, I would
have to buy a tent and live in the desert with the rattlesnakes
and coyotes with an hour long commute, or I could buy an
over-priced house in a seemingly safe area.
The over-priced safe house seems to be working fine. This
must be what it feels like to be living in a witness protection
program. You find a safe house and live an anonymous low
profile lifestyle.
House ownership has turned out to be as painful and expensive as
anticipated, and I miss my catamaran, Exit Only. Thank God I
didn't sell my boat. If I had done that, I would have sold
my home.
Home is where my heart is, and Exit Only is my home.
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