Swan song or last hurrah?

Last week I ended two decades of being an instructor at Road Scholar (formerly Elderhostel) programs. Most of these had been at the YMCA of the Ozarks near Potosi. I had enjoyed doing these in this resort setting by a lake, in the woods, and having my bed made every day. Oh yes, I also got paid.

My topic was Humor and Games. Deep stuff, isn't it? We shared jokes, played games and read humorous articles. I sometimes even read some of my stuff. It was fun to do and fun to meet a new group of people each time we went. I did up to 14 of these a year, but the average would probably have been more like eight or 10. This last time we had people from California, Florida, New York City, Wisconsin, Arizona, Arkansas, North Carolina, and a few from Missouri, 24 people total, but we also had two volunteer hosts, our coordinator, and the other two instructors and two spouses of instructors. That gave us the variety of mealtime table companions from across the nation and varied in their present or past professions. We had engineers, a college professor, several public school teachers, businessmen, computer experts, homemakers, social workers, authors, ministers, a nurse, a geologist, and several other professions that I never figured out from the conversations.

So, why am I not going to do any more of these fun and enlightening sessions? Because I have decided that it is best to quit while I am still having fun. Or more important -- I wanted to quit while those who had paid to come for this week are still enjoying my classes.

The nearly five-hour drive over was very pretty. The leaves were just beginning to turn bright colors, but that increased during the week. When we were unloading the car, Lester was putting some of his computer equipment on the carts and an open container started to slip. I reached to steady it, but too late. It fell to the parking lot and spilled. I was trying to pick it up and suddenly I had also spilled on the parking lot. It was a slow motion fall so I wasn't hurt, but the worst blow to my dignity was when I was trying to get up. Lester was trying to help me, but he had hurt his back a few days before and I was worried about him trying to lift me. I ended up rolling over to my hands and knees and getting up sorta like the cows in the pasture across the road at home. You know, rear end first. Thankfully there were no other guests arriving just then and my first comic act went unnoticed. However, I wondered if it was an omen for the rest of the week.

I think I was OK on that, however, as I received about the same number of nice compliments and there was much laughter in my classes. This group wasn't as good at sharing their own jokes as some earlier classes had been so I had to search my poor memory for more jokes to illustrate the different stages of humor. That was when I knew this should be my last time. I had to refer to my notes much more than I usually did. But I was thankful that one word in my notes got me going again.

The worst part of ending any relationship is knowing that you won't be seeing some of your friends again, or at least not as often. When the word got around that I was "retiring" I was getting hugs and regrets from the housekeeping staff, the dining room hostess, the behind the scenes staff in the office and the kitchen. During the karaoke I actually tried to sing "These Boots are Made for Walking," but the instructor for the music part of the program sang "You Are Always on my Mind" to me. It was a nice tribute, but a little embarrassing.

At the end of my last session suddenly about six people came into the back of the room and the director of the camp, his assistant and former interim director, our coordinator, the other instructors and hosts had come to give me a farewell. No gold watch, but a handshake from the director who had never even known who I was before that day, but a hug from the former interim director who had become a friend.

I ended my class with my customary group hug but my special friend, Sylvia, busied herself with taking pictures so she wasn't in the hug and we left without being able to say how much her years of friendship, fun and scrabble playing had meant to both of us. But it was wise because it will never be a goodbye to a special friend even if she lives clear across the state. If I'm lucky you may be able to meet her here in Nevada some day as she comes to visit.

In the meantime we will continue playing Scrabble on Facebook. And she will continue beating me. She doesn't give me any slack for being middle age plus plus, but still plays to win. What a good friend!