She was supposed to look after me in my old age, but she didn’t stick with me until I got really old. Dorothy, like my first wife, Mary, died of cancer. Now here I was in 2003 alone again and worse, going blind a little every day with ARMD (age related macular degeneration). I’d considered looking into an assisted living place, but without outside help I’d be stuck there without even groceries. All my children offered to take me in, but only Catherine seemed to really want me to live with her.

“Come on down for a trial run. If you like it you can move in,” Catherine said.

“Sounds good to me,” I said.

“You won’t have to cook your own meals.”

“Even better, let’s go.” I said, and we went. I spent most of the summer of ’04 on my trial run in my private quarters, and I decided to become a resident of Lafayette.

Back in Lima, Ohio I began to prepare for my move by putting my house up for sale, but first there were a few things to be done to enhance the appeal to a buyer, like installing new carpet, fixing the broken floor in the garage and things of that nature.

Once the renovations were complete some of my children came back to help me get ready for the move. The house was full of a sixty-year collection of stuff. It wasn’t all junk, as might be expected, but nothing was sixty years old. Some of it was pretty good stuff, but little of it could I take with me.

My son David is a take-charge kind of a guy, and before I knew what was happening he had assessed the job at hand and put an ad in the Lima News with the head line MOVING SALE under which were listed a dozen or so household items, such as furniture etc,. When I saw the ad, dread hit me in the gut. We were to be inundated by a swarm of people, all looking for no-cost bargains. They were right to think that way; if they’re moving they’ll sell for practically nothing. They were right; the horde came and left with most everything except the advertised items that asked a fair price. I think the children took what was offered to get rid of the mob. We sold or gave away much of the stuff I had and called Good Will to dispose of more.

During the house emptying process a deputy sheriff stopped by the house. “Are you Mr. Jessee?” he said.

“Yes, I am,” I said.

“Is this your mail?” He said showing me an envelope with my name and address on it.

“The builder wants you to stop dumping your trash in his dumpster. He won’t press charges if you remove the stuff you put in it.”

“OK, I’ll see that it gets cleared out,” I assured him. Houses were being built across the road and David took the opportunity to get rid of some trash, but why did he pick trash with my name engraved on it? David was later seen with a sack in hand heading toward the construction area. We considered our position and got our own dumpster where we disposed of worthless things.

We cleared out the house except for a few pieces of furniture. Our real estate broker was very helpful in selling the pieces we left behind.

Within a couple of days of my arrival at Catherine’s home it had become my home too. She showed me around town and introduced me to some of her friends. I hadn’t been with her very long until she had figured out things I needed to do to keep myself busy. She found out about a life writing class, and before I knew what happened I was enrolled in Kim’s class. Mostly I have enjoyed it. I’d even recommend it, but beware, the first term cost me only $20.