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Opinion: Life unsupervised

I got a great t-shirt in the mail this week. On the front is “In My Defense I Was Left Unsupervised.” As I’ve said before, since Fred died, I have been living without adult supervision for the first time. I went from living with my mother to living with my husband 47 years ago.

I love T-shirts with printing on them, especially Harley shirts. I like the attractive screen on the front and the bike shop’s name on the back. Fred’s entire wardrobe consists mainly of Harley shirts. We visited the local Harley Davidson shop to buy shirts whenever we traveled. Some of the coolest ones come from far away.

We bought shirts when we visited the Harley Davidson factory in York, PA. Viewing the manufacturing of a new motorcycle was brilliant. First, we enjoyed watching as they oiled up a piece of metal and put it in a press to create fenders. Then installing the V-Twin motor and seats was nothing short of thrilling.

I may be easily impressed, but I also thought visiting a See’s candy factory was cool.

A dear friend and Madera High School class of 1973 graduate is vacationing in the Philippines. He posted pictures at a Harley shop there. I contacted him on Facebook and asked him to bring me a shirt when he comes home.

When Fred died, I buried him in a new pair of jeans and a Harley shirt with roses on it.

Recently I had to buy a new washing machine. Of course, Fred would disapprove of how I do many things, but then again, we always approached tasks from opposite ends of the equation.

Take my new washer, for example. I selected it from the Internet, called the store, and arranged for payment, delivery and the removal of the old one. He no doubt would have visited the Big Box stores, selected the best deal and only then proceeded with the rest of the process.

I can’t help but think that most women in their 60s would be able to breeze through these duties with no muss or fuss. In contrast, I had bought appliances, cars and furniture before, but I was always riding co-pilot.

We had the car serviced early in January, and I hope I don’t have to replace it soon. Not having to make car payments is its own special blessing.

I live in a rental, and my landlord has been exceptionally accommodating. When Fred died, I immediately informed him and inquired if that would in any way jeopardize my continued tenancy. He assured me it would not, for which I am grateful. I hope to live here as long as I am able. Moving is a nightmare, and I don’t look forward to ever having to do that again.

My complex has had two gatherings this summer in one of the parks in the gated community. We had a Memorial Day picnic and a July 4th potluck with fireworks. I know several of my neighbors, and they tend to look out for one another.

One morning the lady who lives across the street knocked on the door connecting my house through the garage. It seems I had left the garage door open all night. Had I done that in some of the places I have lived, I would probably lose everything in the garage, including the car? A hearty thanx to Ms. Evans for her concern.

Neighbors should look out for one another, but I’m not sure how many people are afforded that blessing.

Long days and pleasant nights, have a blessed weekend.

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Readers may contact Tami Jo Nix by emailing or following @TamiJoNix on Twitter.

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