A Van By the River

Every morning at work, Jim, Irene, and I just sort of hang out, drink some coffee, talk about whatever, and wait for the rest of the office to come strolling in. Sometimes the conversation is about politics, sometimes it is about our home lives, and most times it is about Jim's old days as a trader on the stock exchange. Whatever the topic, we just sip our coffee and enjoy the company before delving into the work routine.

Jim is this close to retirement and he swears he's gonna ditch the life he now leads for a van by the river. He aches for the simple life--one away from money and have-tos. One away from a wife and family who tells him what to do and bosses who demand things from him. A life that he controls and decides how simple or complicated it will be.

There are days when Jim talks about traveling or moving someplace warmer. There are lots and lots of stories about the van by the river and once there was a story about turning gay. (It's about "companionship" and not the sex, he says.) But I think that story was just to make me crack up because I don't think that is something you take up, like golf or bridge, after you retire.

Yesterday's story was about lights--Christmas lights. What kind of lights he wants in his van (by the river) and how nobody is gonna tell him what he can or can not have.

"Twinkly lights" he says sipping his coffee. "I want twinkly lights and lots of 'em." he said quietly.

And I listen politely because I wanna hear what the deal is with twinkly lights.

"I like the twinkly lights. You know, the kind that flash?" and he's reading my face to see if I'm with him on twinkly lights. "We have lights at home, but my wife won't let them twinkle." And he sighs a big sigh.

"Why can't you have twinkly lights?" I ask sincerely.

"Because. Because she doesn't like twinkly lights. And I do." and he gives me that silly look like he's serious, but he wants to make me laugh at the same time. "I'm one freaking light bulb away from making that whole strand flash." he says.

And I wonder how, after being with someone for all those years, do you not have a say in the Christmas lights in your life. I mean, I would probably be the same way with Joe, but here I was sort of feeling sorry for Jim that he had absolutely no say in if his lights twinkle at home or not. And while he's worked his entire life to make a nice living and allow her to stay at home in comfort, he still has no say in the light department. That's what you get at 65 years old--lights that don't twinkle because someone else said so? That stinks.

I listened to his story and suggested that one day he just pop in that extra bulb they always give you with a set of lights just to stick it to her. He laughed and I laughed. It was our evil plot to win Jim some freedom and some control in his life.

Or to get him closer to that van by the river.