Appearing Live at the Beach House in Rincon... a Beautiful Amazing Artist and a Giant Shrek Looking Guy

I can't even begin to tell you how much fun we have been having selling Lorri's art at The Beach House here in Rincon. Besides all of the beautiful sunsets, every night we get to meet awesome new people, and hang out with many of our favorite locals, not to mention our adopted island family on the staff.

Since not a night goes by that we don't get the same questions about us, I thought it might be a good time to tell a bit more of our story here. Not that we are important, or significant, but everyone has a story, and ours started... well, a long time ago...

The main street of Williamson, Iowa. Home to the Williamson Tavern and the world famous giant Papa Burger... and little else, the town boasts about 100 residents, but was once a coal mining boom town in the 1930s.

When I (Buzz) was a kid, I used to spend a lot of time in the tiny town of Williamson, Iowa. There wasn't much of anything to the place, but my father's best friend lived there, and they spent most weekends together drinking beer or hunting or fishing, or wasting time or cutting wood. They had grown up next door to each other in the 1940's and 50's in Chariton a few miles away and were basically inseparable. So when the friend married into a family in the town of Williamson, we all sort of became like family over time, and practically everyone in the little town was related somehow. 

Not a mule, or the actual girl in question, but your get the general idea.

So, I grew up running the streets of Williamson, and as there always is, there was a girl. She was the niece of my dad's best friend and we were born just four months apart. While I ran the town like a wild child with the other boys, she was not allowed to leave the yard. So, in protest, I suppose, she would throw mud pies at me whenever I ran by and yell at me. For my part, I would stick my tongue out and run, but always watching her over my shoulder curiously. She was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. 

She wasn't allowed to leave her yard, as I mentioned...unless she was riding a mule. Her father raised jumping mules for hunting and if she was on a mule, he knew they would take care of her and protect her no matter what. She, for her part, had always wanted a horse with a long and flowing mane. Not an ugly mule, with a coarse mane, and a strong disposition against galloping. 

So it was, that if you ask anyone who knew the town of Williamson back then if they remembered Lorri, they might say they didn't. But if you asked them if they remembered the little barefoot, dirty faced girl riding the mules all the time, they would know immediately who you were talking about. 

Since she so desperately had wanted a horse, she would run the mules up and down the only section of paved road if only to hear their hooves click clacking. She would ride them to the school and the mules would wait for her outside in the school yard. She would even charge a dime for the other kids to ride them sometimes if she was feeling particularly generous. But all that road riding would wear their hooves down to nothing and the mules, and the girl would end up grounded to the yard while the hooves grew back in time for hunting season. 

The WIlliamson School House where mules waited patiently for Lorri to get out class.

So, anyhow, I grew up going to her family events, and hanging out in this tiny town, and always, always having my eye on the little girl who rode the mules around town. Her parents signed my baby book. My parents signed hers. You could say that we had met. But like so many young people, I lived in a state of overwhelming self-consciousness and fear and despite dating once or twice, could just never bring myself to tell that girl how I felt about her. Foolishly, I let her slip through my fingers because I lacked the courage to reveal my feelings.

As they do, months turned to years, and we married and had children. She was as beautiful as ever, and was a successful professional. She was one of those people who seemingly had everything and had it all together. If she was seemingly out of my league and unobtainable in my youth, then she was even more so in adulthood. 

Lorri, the badass volunteer firefighter. One of the first female firefighters in Southern Iowa. 

Since our families remained close, and we lived in the same county all those years, we would see each other from time to time at weddings, or special events or ballgames. As my own life seemed less fulfilling and joyful each day, I felt less fear of telling her how I felt about her, as if I had nothing left to lose, and had already lost so much time. If only I had just thirty seconds alone I would tell her, but I only ever seemingly got less than ten. 

Thirty seconds. And then one day, at long last, there was a break in the crowd, and we were alone, for thirty seconds. Losing her, I told her, had haunted me every day of my life, and I just needed her to know that she was my person. The one I could never let go of. The one whose smile filled my dreams, both sleeping and awake, and whose laughter filled my heart. 

Traditional Southern Iowa hillbilly wedding, complete with brother-in-law turned pastor, and cornhole game in the background.

Beautiful princess and giant headed Shrek-like guy. Still don't know how that happened, but I am not questioning it.

As it turned out, we were neither one happy in our lives. So we set about in a different sort of direction, not in pursuit of happiness, per say, but deliberately and forcefully cutting the things from our lives that made us unhappy. 

We managed through the challenges of joining children and ex-spouses together into a cohesive, functioning unit, and the result is we have five wonderful adult children now, two beautiful daughter-in-laws, four grandchildren, and ex-spouses, who we probably get along with much better now than we ever used to. 

Move over Stone Henge. Meet Nebraska's Car Henge. Scientists still puzzle at how it was created.

For the last ten years of our life, we have travelled and seen some amazing, and slightly less than amazing things together. 

Oktoberfest in Lacrosse, Wisconsin. POLKA! POLKA! POLKA!

We grew in our professional careers. Finished raising our family. And even raised a few goats together (another story).

The Grand Canyon.

Then, a little over a year ago, Lorri had back surgery. As it turned out, she also had a rare condition that caused blood clots in her legs from her knee to her hip that was revealed post-surgery. Were it not for my diligent daily visual inspection of her legs (you're welcome!) she probably would have died. 

Truthfully, I almost lost her anyhow. And that was enough. It was enough to remind us that there was no amount of money worth me spending 200 days on the road away from her as a union representative. Enough to remind us that most folks we know plan and dream and save for days that never come, or lose their good health the day after they retire. Or watch as 401k's are wiped out, or pensions dissolved. There simply are NO guarantees in life.

As we dropped our youngest off at college last fall, we determined that, come hell or high water, we were making some changes. We weren't putting things off. We weren't waiting for perfect timing. We just did it. 

Six years ago, we started coming to Puerto Rico instead of the Florida Keys when we discovered cheap flights and cheaper Airbnbs. Two years ago, we almost accidentally "discovered" the west side. The rest is history. We were immediately hooked. The beaches. The vibe. The people. Forget about it. There is nowhere else. Not for us. 

So, we dropped our daughter off at college, sold or donated or tossed everything. Left high paying professional careers, and moved to Rincon for the winter to "figure out what we want to be when we grow up the second time around." Like the happiness thing... we only knew what we didn't want to do. 

Lorri had grown up around a grandfather who was a woodworker. She was enamored with the smell of sawdust. But she had never touched a saw before. And she can't draw to save her life. But when we moved to Rincon, she immediately set out to be an artist working with wood instead of a training and quality medical professional at a non-profit blood center. 

We rented a house, filled the garage with a bunch of saws, and I went inside to write, waiting for the inevitable pinterest fails and trips to the emergency for stitches. It would take, I figured, about a year for her to turn out something art-worthy. 

Lorri's first scroll saw trees ever.

She was out there for about four hours when she came in and showed me her palm trees. Cut by hand on a scroll saw by a girl who can't draw and had never made a cut before. Now, I can draw a tree, but I can't cut shit with a scroll saw. It is a skill... or an artform, that I do not, nor will I ever, possess. It is as if she, however, was born using the thing though. She draws the rough shape, and then cuts all the details to match the vision in her head. She never ceases to amaze and inspire me.

The Beach House in Rincon

Lorri under the red tent at The Beach House in Rincon, Puerto Rico

Which brings us to The Beach House. How? Why? The answer is simple really... we were already there! 

To say we were Beach House regulars is a bit of an understatement. We would go and watch the sunset and stay late drinking and meeting people. Then, many mornings, we would wake up, talk about what we wanted for breakfast, and end up right back at The Beach House for mimosas with Steak and Eggs or Eggs Benedict. Mmmmm. 

We loved the food, the atmosphere, the staff, the owners, and all of the people we met there. You almost never meet anyone at The Beach House in Rincon who is in a bad mood, or having a bad day. Rather, it is a meeting place for people who are celebrating life, and sunsets, and morning whale spotting. 

So, when Lorri was ready to debut her art, Kevin, the owner, said why go anywhere else? Basically, he gave us permission to set up a tent and tables around the spot in the smoking section where we were already spending most of our time anyhow. It was more or less as if we were already there, and the art show just sort of grew up around us. 

As a result, our first winter here in Rincon has been nothing short of awesome. We plan to be set up every night from now until Easter at The Beach House between the hours of 4pm and 9pm, give or take an hour or two, IF we can keep enough art on hand to justify setting up a table. Our goal of basically paying for our nightly beer and food tab has been blown out of the water as tourists and locals come to visit and take home a piece of Lorri's work. 

She now spends most days in her workshop from sunrise until setup time, filling special orders and working on commissioned pieces, while my life has been reduced to that of a roadie for an artist, setting up tables and tents, and burning up the road buying wood and blades and paint brushes and espressos and everything an artist needs to keep creating. 

Through it all, we are having the time of our lives. We meet amazing new people every night and have developed friendships that we will take with us wherever we go. And while we aren't quite ready to settle down and never leave a place forever, we can never imagine a winter that doesn't end in coming home again... to the people and beaches of Rincon. 

Summer Adventure 2020 coming soon... 

Her name is LuLu, and she is a toy hauler with room enough in back for an art studio!

Come and see us at The Beach House nightly between 4pm and 9pm! Lorri has several new pieces making their debut tonight.

Oh yeah... having too much fun with us? The Beach House has rooms for rent onsite as well, so no need to drink and drive and breakfast and mimosas start at 7am daily while you watch the whales.

Thanks for reading!

Buzz & Lorri Malone

One Artist's Debut at The Beach House in Rincon

Lorri's debut as an artist could not be off to a better start. After two nights of setting up at The Beach House in Rincon, Puerto Rico, she is selling her artwork almost as quickly as she can make it. The photo above shows her signing her first ever sale! Exciting stuff!

Lorri grew up watching her grandfather work with wood, and fell in love with the smell of sawdust. When she proclaimed her desire to be an artist and work with wood, I knew she could do it. I believed in her with all of my heart. She is smart. She has an eye. She is talented. But still, I warned her, she had never worked with wood before, or tools or saws, so be prepared to spend a year or two learning and creating pinterest fails along the way. Don't get discouraged I said. 

I honestly couldn't even watch. It would be too painful. I left her to the workshop full of shiny new saws and paints and instruction manuals. Time, I told myself, and a few trips to the emergency room for stitches, and maybe, who knows...

A few days later she came and showed me her first piece. It was really good. When her scroll saw finally arrived, things got really crazy, and within a few days she was churning out amazing perfect little palm trees. 

Here is the crazy thing. I can draw. Lorri can't. She couldn't draw a palm tree to save her life. But when she sits down at that saw, she has a vision in her head and just cuts to it and it always comes out perfect without a picture. While I can't cut anything besides big pieces into smaller ones. She is AMAZING!  And every day she only gets better and she has only been doing it for a few short months. 

It has been nothing short of inspirational to see her work develop every day, and being at The Beach House in Rincon, we have got to see that I am not biased, as many people are drawn to one piece or another and the response has been awesome. It has been an incredible experience and I could not be more proud of this emerging artist.

We could not have chosen a more beautiful perfect place in all of Puerto Rico to debut Lorri's artwork. But we did not choose The Beach House. The Beach House chose us. Or rather, Kevin, the owner, made space for Lorri when he heard there was no room for her work at the art walk downtown. 

It was early last fall when we first went to The Beach House for breakfast. We were drawn by positive food reviews, and the amazing views overlooking the ocean and Desecheo Island. It was early and the chairs were still atop the tables, but servers found us a place and spent more time than normal making us feel at home. 

View from The Beach House with Desecheo Island in the distance on the right.

From the bathroom, a man emerged with a mop bucket and smile. He found a broom and worked his way along the business front, sweeping and wiping counters. When he neared our table, he stopped to lean on his broom and chat. 

He was a retired New York Firefighter. I thought it was nice the owner hired this retired hero as a janitor to supplement his pension. But I began to worry about his future there when our talk ran into ten and then twenty minutes. 

A rare glimpse of the elusive, photo shy, humble owner of The Beach House

My fears for the poor pensioner were assuaged when I learned the humble janitor who rises with the sun to clean the bathrooms every day is indeed, Kevin, the owner of The Beach House. He talked to us that morning about the beauty and power of the place, the sound of the crowd in the evening in February when a whale spouts in the distance, and the energy of the place when the big waves come in. Like so many locals, Kevin is a man who loves his island, and has taught us how to love and appreciate it all the more. 

In the days and weeks since that first meeting with that humble janitor, Kevin has become a dear friend of ours. I would love to be able to tell the story of the good things he does in the community, but he won't share them. I only hear secondhand accounts from people he has been there to help, or overheard phone calls where he is arranging to send chefs and supplies to earthquake victims. He was a 9/11 responder too, but he will only tell you about "the other guys" and their heroism. 

The Beach House in Rincon Puerto Rico

It is this same humble approach to the business every day that makes the place so special. We love the views and it is the best place in our book to watch the sunset. We love the mix of tourists and locals every night and how even the guests treat one another like there are no strangers. And we love, love, love the food. But more than all of that, we love the people at our Beach House. Kevin, his family, and the staff have become very much like our adopted island family. 

Despite being there almost every day from sunrise until close (7am-midnight, 7 days a week, 365 days a year), Kevin is always the first to blame the good things about the business on the staff. In fact, if you go online and read about the business, this will probably be the only place you ever even see his name or his picture associated with it at all. 

He will tell you the business is great because of their amazing chef, Heriberto Sanchez, and the kitchen staff. He will blame the great vibe of The Beach House on the servers and bartenders and the energy of the island, and the amazing people who are drawn to Rincon. And he will blame his sons and family, who are partners in the business as well. 

And when he does a great favor for an artist friend and lets her set up and show her work there, he will refuse any credit for that as well, and say simply, humbly, that "art is another spice in the soup that makes Rincon and The Beach House so wonderful. It is a soup. You're helping make the soup taste even better." 

I believe that. Our Beach House family has made our time on the island so much more the memorable, and they have lent so much flavor to our lives. The smells of the ocean and the food, the sounds of the music and people, all swirl to create an amazing unique vibe at The Beach House. It really is a soup. It all has to be in there for it to work so well... not least of all... the secret spice... of one retired firefighter cleaning bathrooms, pushing brooms, and entertaining travelers with insider tales of whales and waves and island magic, and soup. We love our Beach House. 

The Beach House is not only a great place for art, breakfast, lunch, dinner and live music sunsets. It is a great destination for your stay in Puerto Rico! Check out their website here:

http://www.thebeachhouserincon.com/

Like their Facebook Page:

The Beach House Facebook

The Beach House also happens to be the ONLY Puerto Rican bar nominated for a USA Today Reader's Choice Award for Best Caribbean Beach Bar! Please hurry and cast your vote for them here:

USA Today 10 Best VOTE

This is not a paid advertisement. The views expressed are those of the authors and have not been approved by The Beach House. 

Thank you for reading!

Buzz & Lorri Malone

Lorri and Buzz Update: We Made It!

Did you ever have any doubts? No? Well, we sure did. When we hatched our five year plan to move to Puerto Rico, it seemed like a far away dream. Exactly the kind of dreams that are far enough out into the future to allow you some wiggle room to escape them and run back to the safety of mediocrity.

But, events transpired and created a perfect storm to turn a five year plan into a three year plan overnight, and then suddenly, a six month plan. The six month plan was Buzz's last ditch effort to try and apply some thoughtful common sense to the project with the recognition that Lorri would take forever and a week to get rid of her 60 dump truck load clothes collection and the 400 totes she kept squirrelled away in the basement containing what Buzz can only assume to be rock collections, as well as every Kleenex her children ever used growing up, neatly organized by date, color, and affliction types for each child.

Lorri, however, was a woman with a mission and had everything gone in a few short weeks. Before we knew it we were sleeping on mattresses on the floor, and scooping up a dog, a cat, and 8 bags of luggage and heading for an island in the Caribbean. 

We are pleased to report that since having landed here, we have almost entirely furnished the house, bought a car, and Buzz built two outdoor cooking devices. Lorri has her workshop mostly setup, and we finally have new phones and laptops!

Our time has not been without adventures, like the lizard that ran across Buzz's foot on the first morning, causing him to launch hot coffee all over himself and halfway across the living room (tile floors...love em!). The same lizard ran and hid in the bathroom and surprised Lorri while she was sitting on the toilet by leaping out of the sink at her. The writer is not permitted to say what happened next, but let's just say the yellow liquid all over the bathroom floor was NOT coffee. The cat later proved her worth by dispatching said lizard though.

There was also the giant toad who lived outside of our bedroom window and screamed the song of death of 1,000 suffering rabbits at night. He has since been relocated to the rain forest further down the road where he can busy himself keeping the wild pigs awake at night. 

It has been a whirlwind week and we have hit every pothole between our house in Rincon and the stores in Mayaguez and Aguadilla, about 400 times. We will post more photos of the house soon along with another update, but we wanted to let everyone know that we have arrived, are alive, and doing well, and here are a few of the reasons for being in Puerto Rico... 

We call this one 'dominoes no more' because these are the places the old men like to sit

and play dominoes and this one in Rincon has been undermined by the Hurricane Maria.

Among a sea of boxes and Styrofoam, we have one room finished. This was our first one.

The view over Buzz's coffee cup on the back patio in the morning.

Lorri pondering the meaning of life, and wondering how she landed such an awesome husband.

Lorri looking as beautiful as the sunset in the distance.

Sunset from Aguada, PR 10/22/19

Aguada, PR Sunset 10/22/19

Aguada Sunset

Aguada Sunset

View from Anasco restaraunt

Anasco, PR

Here are some artist friends you can learn more about by clicking on the tabs up above! 

Shopping in Mayaguez... it's a lot like driving in Mayaguez. It is the sweetest and kindest little old lady who gets behind the wheel of her car or her shopping cart and will run you off the road or slit your throat for your spot in line. More on the excitement of driving in Puerto Rico later! 

We will leave you for now with a few words from the poet, Henry Herbert Knibbs, called The Sheep and the Goats...

    I don't mind working to earn my bread,

         And I'd just as soon keep straight;

    I've listened to what the preacher said

         About rams and sheep at the gate;

    I like to sleep in an easy bed,

         But I tell you this, old mate:

    A man like me, what you call hobo,

         Can blister and sweat and save

    All his life, and earn just enough of dough

         To prove that he is a slave,

    And have, when it comes his time to go,

         Well, enough to line his grave.

    Say, mate, have you ever seen the mills

         Where the kids at the looms spit blood?

    Have you been in the mines when the fire-damp blew?

         Have you shipped as a hand with a freighter's crew

    Or worked in a levee flood?

   Have you rotted wet in a grading-camp,

         Or scorched on a desert line?

    Or done your night stunt with your lamp,

         Watching the timbers drip with damp

    And hearing the oil-rig whine?

    Have you seen the grinders fade and die,

         As the steel-dust cut them down?

    Have you heard the tunnel-driller's cry

         When the shale caved in? Have you stood by

    When his wife came up from town?

  Have you had your pay held back for tools

         That you never saw or could use?

    Have you gone like a fool with the other fools

         To the boss's saloon, where the strong-arm rules,

    And cashed your time for booze?

   Well, those are the games—I've played 'em all—

         That a man like me can play.

    And this lovely world is a hard old ball;

         And so at the last I took a fall

    To the right and proper way;

   And that is to see all the sights you can

         Without the admission price.

    That's why I've changed to a traveling man,

         With a quilt and a rope and a kind of plan

    Of hitting no one place twice.

   I do no kicking at God or Fate;

         I keep my shoes for the road.

    A long gray road-and I love it, mate;

         Hay-foot, straw-foot, that's my gait!

    And I carry no other man's load.

    For I'm free! Oh, the lowlands by the sea

         To the mountains clear across

    On the other side, they belong to me;

         A man owns nothing unless he's free,

    And I am my own good boss.

   I don't mind working to earn my bread,

         And I'd just as soon keep straight,

    But according to what the preacher said,

         I'm a ram—and I've missed the gate;

    But I'm jogging along, and jogging ahead,

         And perhaps I'll find it, mate.

New Beginnings and Being Lost and Found in Puerto Rico

Recently, events in our lives have conspired quite happily to convert our five year plan into a three year plan, which in turn became a two year plan, and then, finally, a plan where time is measured in weeks and days instead of years and decades. We did not have to wait for it to come to fruition either. The perfect moment in time simply presented itself to us, and we are choosing to seize upon it, and leave no adventure unexplored.

In recent weeks we have been bombarded by questions from friends, relatives, and even strangers. This first blog post will try to answer some of the most common questions and give a first glimpse into the inner workings of our journey...

Introduction. Hi. We are Lorri and Buzz Malone, current and mostly lifelong residents of Lucas County in the slow rolling rural hills of Southern Iowa.

This is us! Lorri and Buzz Malone (Lorri is the pretty one). 

Frequently asked questions (a.k.a FAQs) Interesting sidenote about FAQs is that for the first thirty odd years of his life, Buzz pronounced FAQs in his head as 'facts' and, while finding the associated FAQs page of websites quite useful, he never really fully understood why every 'Faqt" started with a question.

Q: So, you're selling everything you own, leaving your lifelong hometown, and running off to Puerto Rico. Are you stupid or something? What the hell are you thinking???

L&B: Here, we begin by quoting a great philosopher when we say that, "stupid is as stupid does." 

Lorri and her baby goats

More to the point about what we are thinking is that Lorri has been doing her job at the same non-profit for 23 years. She is seeing her youngest daughter off to college in a few days. She wants to explore her artistic side, avoid the worsening lengthy bouts of winter depression, and be by the ocean. For Lorri, Puerto Rico affords her the opportunity to do all of these things. Ah, but will there be goats? Time will tell.

Buzz+Rum+Ocean=Happy Buzz 

(editor's note: the large protrusion is NOT Buzz's actual belly. He is holding a recently rescued baby seal on his lap. That's all that is. Really)

Buzz has spent twenty-five years in organized labor, as a member, and a union organizer, local union president, national union representative, and labor historian. Buzz wants to write stories that capture the human spirit. He wants to drink gallons of rum and catch fish right out of the ocean, and cook for friends and neighbors while Lorri slaves away in her art sweatshop. Puerto Rico affords him the opportunity to do all of these things.

Aguada, Puerto Rico

We have settled and agreed upon the city of Aguada in Western Puerto Rico, because it is a small town beside the ocean, has a reasonable cost of living, and the people are so unbelievably friendly and inviting, and like us, it is more working class than tourist area. Because now that we are going to be locals, who wants a bunch of tourists hanging around, right? Right?

Q: Okay, fine, whatever, but why Puerto Rico? Aren't there beaches, like, everywhere land meets the ocean?

Lorri in the Florida Keys

The answer to that one is easy. We loved the Florida Keys for the crystal clear, perfect blue Caribbean waters. But the Keys keep getting more and more expensive so that the favorite spot we used to enjoy on winter getaways has increased to the tune of over 300% per night in the years since we started going there.  

Several years ago, while viewing the Kayak flight price explorer map, Buzz noticed a very affordable flight price hovering over a small island in the Caribbean. He zoomed in closer. It was Puerto Rico. He turned to an unsuspecting Lorri, who was busying herself eating antidepressants like m&m's to survive another frigid Iowa winter. 

"How would you like to go to Puerto Rico next week?" asked Buzz.

And the rest is history. We went for the ocean and we kept going back for the people. We simply cannot say enough about the people of Puerto Rico. Their inherent joy, resilience, and unending hospitality has kept us going back time and again. 

Being Puerto Rican is a daily celebration of life and blessings. It is a place where disasters spawn new beginnings and collectivism, and where no trip to the store or walk down the road will end without connecting with someone. We are not talking about an area where people are merely trained to show the whites of their teeth to tourists. In the West, the part of the island we adore so fully, it often takes over an hour to pick up a single item from the grocery because nearly every person stops and talks to almost every other person.

Recently when asked why Puerto Rico, we told someone that we loved the people there and wanted to help them, but that answer wasn't right at all. It didn't feel right because the people there don't need our help. They are fine without us. Hell, they may well be better off without us. We have chosen this place because we see and feel a strong sense of community there and we want to be a part of that. 

Or, as Buzz puts it, "wherever in the world people cook whole hogs over open flames... these are my people." 

Whether in Iowa in our youth (we are both 46 by the way) or in our 40's in Puerto Rico, whole hogs over open flames mean something to us. Not just about amazing, glistening, tender, juicy pork, but about what it says about the preparer. It says that the cook, in this most temporary of conditions that we understand as life, has momentarily fallen upon the good fortune to have more than one soul could consume, and instead of storing it away, she is sharing it with her friends, her neighbors, and any strangers who follow the scent and discover the feast.

Q: Aren't you worried about crime, or sea rise from melting ice caps, or tsunamis, or hurricanes, or being hit by a grand piano that falls from a passing satellite? 

This is one of our favorite questions. It gets right to the heart of the matter about fear, and holding on, and letting go, and living, and so much more.

When we first started travelling frequently together, it always amused us when friends who lived in the San Francisco Bay, that is doomed in its entirety to fall into the sea at any moment, would look us seriously in the eye and ask, "Iowa? Aren't you afraid of being killed by a tornado?"

Later on we would use a piece of typing paper to represent the state of Iowa, and invite them to make dots on it by pressing a pencil straight down onto the sheet thirty times.  "There," we would say, "if you weren't standing right under one of those dots at just the right moment, you had virtually no chance of being killed by a tornado last year."

In other words, life is short, no one lives forever no matter what, and in general, we have concluded for the most part that we human animals have come to make entirely too much of ourselves and the significance of our own existence. As if we have any say in when or how we perish, no matter where we go, or what we choose to do or not do! 

Fresh water... still a baby seal. No, really. Trust us. That's what it is. 

If the choice comes down to being swept away by a tsunami wave while sipping rum beside the ocean, or slipping in the bathtub of a home we were afraid to ever leave, then we say bring on the waves. 

As for crime... pretend like you are in any city anywhere in the world that is strange to you. Don't be stupid or make yourself look like a target, and you will pretty much be fine anywhere in the world, except for possibly in Muskogee. I mean, come on... it's Muskogee for god sake. 

Beyond that we choose largely not to live our lives in fear. If we are ultimately murdered by tongs we gave a stranger to share some pulled pork with, and we made it our entire lives without ever wasting a day in fear of our fellow man, then we are pretty okay with that. In fact, if we both perish, then we would even let our relatives know ahead of time not to bother wasting any time of their journey looking for the guy with bloody bbq tongs because in the grand scheme of things he already received a bunch of negative karma by fucking up a perfectly good bbq, and probably killed us before we told him where we keep the really good, top shelf rum.

Probst!

No. We choose to only live in fear of genuinely terrifying things, like Buzz is with spiders and bats, and Lorri is with Great White sharks and the awful, rare, deadly germs that can only be acquired at the Golden Corral all-you-can-eat steak buffet.

Q: Well, fine for you, but you must be like, loaded rich, right? Right? 

Uh. Nope. Not loaded rich. Not even pretend loaded rich. We have worked though, in mostly professional careers, our entire life. And we define "professional careers" as only being the difference between being in positions where we were always able to take an extra ten minutes for lunch without anybody yelling at us. That's the real difference. In our youths, we worked in construction and nursing, where people making an extra dollar an hour were always on your asses about taking five minutes longer for lunch. When you've made it, and you're a professional though, take your time, bask in the bread bowl, and order desert, because another ten minutes and nobody will care enough to even say anything. Maybe it's because they respect you more, or maybe it's because as a "professional" you don't get paid overtime.

The point is we have always worked, and we have, for the most part, worked pretty damned hard, and we are not rich. We were playing by the rules and counting down toward our retirements the right way, the respectable, slow way, where you get to cash in all of your chips, but only when you are too old or busted up to enjoy them, and then you die on your way to the mailbox collecting your first pension check.

As mentioned before, we had a ten year or five year plan and all of that. But then there was a market dip and Lorri's 401k took two years to recover from it. And then Buzz got the letter saying that the pension fund he had worked most of life for is suddenly rather sketchy and maybe he would get to retire, and maybe he wouldn't, and then this dumpster fire of a president got elected and we wondered how long before the whole damned thing went to pot. 

But more than any of that, Lorri quite suddenly, and unexpectedly, nearly died. That experience, along with the fact that our children are all officially out of the house and raised, pushed us to declare that since there is a really super good chance that we are going to work somehow, doing something, until the day we finally die, and in recognition that life is unpredictably short, we decided to start over. She has always wanted to be an artist. He has always wanted to write for a living. Her life savings may be in jeopardy, and his employer is going broke and exploring substantial layoffs. Together, we have the means, not to retire, but to build a life where we want it, and on our terms. The time for us to do that... is right now.

Q: What if you get there and find out you hate it?

Then we have wasted a year or two of our lives drinking rum beside the ocean and we move on to the next dream, or job. 

Q: Won't you miss your grandchildren, your friends, your family?

Yes. Absolutely. Our thoughts on this are we are building a life to share with others. Every home we look at has room enough for guests, and every car, room enough for extra passengers going to and from the airport. We will desperately miss our family of course, but we also are weary of becoming the grandparents who sit at home waiting for the children to visit, and burdening loved ones with guilt until they relent and temporarily shelve their lives and plans and come visit again. 

Also, we despise winter. Absolutely hate it. Lorri gets depressed, and Buzz, who is already depressed, finds it nearly impossible to breathe in the cold. 

Q: Can we come visit? 

Yes! 

Q: Aren't you afraid of the recent riots there?

Not riots. Peaceful demonstrations to remove a corrupt politician from office. And mostly, we are bummed that we missed it. Anyone who asks this question really doesn't know us at all.

Q: Is this blog just going to be about stupid questions and answers all the time?

Nope. This is going to be a place to introduce you to all of the incredible people we meet, experiences we have, and serve as a window into all that we love about Puerto Rico, so stay tuned!

This is the house we are currently negotiating to buy. From the bottom of the steps to the edge of the water on the beach is precisely 250' depending upon the tide of course. There will be a great story next time about home buying in Puerto Rico. It's sort of a HOW NOT TO BUY PROPERTY IN PUERTO RICO story. Just do as we say and not as we do and you'll be fine, maybe. Who knows.

Finally, an excerpt from one of Buzz's favorite, and Lorri's absolute least favorite, authors and books of all time:

"Once there lived a village of creatures along the bottom of a great crystal river. The current of the river swept silently over them all -- young and old, rich and poor, good and evil -- the current going its own way, knowing only its own crystal self.

Each creature in its own manner clung tightly to the twigs and rocks of the river bottom, for clinging was their way of life, and resisting the current was what each had learned from birth.

But one creature said at last, "I am tired of clinging. Though I cannot see it with my eyes, I trust that the current knows where it is going. I shall let go, and let it take me where it will. Clinging, I shall die of boredom."

The other creatures laughed and said, "Fool! Let go, and that current you worship will throw you tumbled and smashed against the rocks, and you will die quicker than boredom!"

But the one heeded them not, and taking a breath did let go, and at once was tumbled and smashed by the current across the rocks.

Yet in time, as the creature refused to cling again, the current lifted him free from the bottom, and he was bruised and hurt no more.

And the creatures downstream, to whom he was a stranger, cried, "See a miracle! A creature like ourselves, yet he flies! See the messiah, come to save us all!"

And the one carried in the current said, "I am no more messiah than you. 

The river delights to lift us free, if only we dare let go. Our true work is this voyage, this adventure."

But they cried the more, "Savior!" all the while clinging to the rocks, and when they looked again he was gone, and they were left alone making legends of a savior.

 -- from Illusions by Richard Bach