You know, after a man retires he has more time to think. To think and perchance to dream. So said the old Bard. I saw in the Daily Oklahoman this past week that experts who do the “Farmers Old Almanac” are, again, predicting a harsh winter for Oklahoma and Texas. Sort of like last year, I wondered. It reminded me of ten winters back as I sat safely in my den dreaming of warm weather, my boat and camping. And by now I had retired and could play, fish, swim and run around as I pleased. The most wonderful part of my life had arrived, and my daydreams were indeed full of ideas about boats, fishing, and vacations those cold days. Life was good.

Summer did finally arrive. And eventually I found myself camped at Texoma with friends and family. But I had forgotten just how hot it was down there in the summer. Better than winter, but boy was it ever hot! I finally got my boat launched, loaded a bunch of people in it, and we went for a ride. I found that great spot for a swim and swim we did. Oh boy, I thought. The time is here. Paradise now. Someone asked me, “Why does your sump pump run so much?” Oh, I replied like I knew why and said my boat has a little leak but nothing to worry about. Of course, I was wrong. It was leaking pretty bad. I was already worrying.

That night (boy was it hot) I thought I would try and shower in my camper’s tiny bathroom. Didn’t work out, so I got on my bike and pedaled my way up to the campground showers. “Watch out for snakes up there,” Chock Tilley yelled at me. At the showers I inspected the one I was to use, carefully. It looked OK. I got in and the water as usual was cold, but I braved it until the biggest bug I ever had seen except maybe in the South China Sea jumped on me. Landed on the area around my belly button.

I won’t go into about how I deported myself during the battle that ensued, but I eventually won. I was glad I was alone in the place. If the military had ever given me a hero or bravery button or battle ribbon during my four years of Naval service, I would have had to mail it back after the frantic battle I had with the big brown bug. Later the next morning I took my leaky boat to the shop. My vacation was not going well, and I didn’t know it yet, but it was to get worse.

The boat mechanic guy said he had never seen anything like it. He would have to pull this and that to fix it and it would take much of the summer. I thought of my diminishing retirement account. And my cell phone was ringing. It was the VA. I had a dental appointment— tomorrow. Oops, I had to leave. Took my wife with me. My dental visit was about like the boat prognosis. Bad. Soon it fell into an unexpected quagmire of big tooth pulling and six stitches.

Meanwhile, as I was nearly expired at the hands of my dentist, my helpful wife had uncovered the fact I also had a dermatology appointment that day too. Up there in dermatology I was greeted by a little girl (man these doctors get younger all the time) who quickly noticed a suspicious looking mole I had forgotten about. “We’ll have to remove that thing,” she said. And of course, did. More stitches. No swimming for two weeks, she said gleefully.

I staggered out of the VA that sorry day a pale shadow of myself but determined to return to the lake. I did too. But after a few hours of the heat, flies, wasps, yellowjackets I told my dear wife. We need to go home. That was easy. No boat to load up. The danged boat guy would be having it for most of the summer anyway. By the next year I could say my poor boat and motorhome are sold. Gone. And if the winter gets real bad in the months ahead this year, well I’ll just stay home and rearrange my books. No more big summer plans for this boy. My lake daydreamer thing has been turned off.

Enjoy this fall and its beauty. And be sure and go to church Sunday.

Wayne Bullard, DPh

cwaynebullard@gmail.com