Alexis Hartz, Author

Each time I visit my parents in Maine I usually have the very good fortune to accompany them on their monthly "hiking group" outing. May's outing was a day of biking day on Peaks Island, one of many islands in Casco Bay off the coast of Portland.   Now an artists' community with about 800 year-round residents,  the island has been a  popular summer destination for vacationers since the late 1800’s. We had to find out why. After purchasing tickets for passengers and bikes, we boarded the Casco Bay Ferry in Portland. The ferry ride is a treat in itself, seventeen minutes of panoramic views of the islands in the bay and the Portland skyline.  From the ferry's dock we could smell  cinnamon and hurried up the hill to Peak's Cafe where some of us enjoyed Linda's famous cinnamon buns. I bypassed the buns to get my buns on a rental bike at  the bike rental stop just down the street.  Brad’s Bike Rentals looks like a small garage with a fr...

Oh she's a beauty. Doesn't look like much from the outside, but inside she's cozy, and clean, and comfortable. She's been loved, and she's ready for someone to take her on the road again. I've outgrown her. All of my work-camper friends said that I would. Some told me that I'd upgrade to a newer model. Others were sure that I'd find solace in a smaller rig. I still haven't decided which way I'll go, but I do know for sure that I will have another home on wheels. Living in my motor coach has been more than a dream come true. It's been a great privilege to park in magnificent places, surrounded by views that even the ultra-rich can hardly afford.  It's been a great blessing of kind neighbors sharing potluck dinners and telling stories 'round the campfire. It's been an intimate connection with nature, particularly the sounds of soft gentle rain on the rooftop and the ever-present call of a hoot owl outside of my window....

Closing a chapter is never easy.  Today I ponder how I will make the transition from transient living to permanency in a small community.  I’m thinking about everything I will lose in the process: the exhilaration of arriving at a new location, the confidence-building exercise of driving the coach, and the interest from others when I describe my workamper lifestyle. Transitions, we all have them.  My transition from road warrior to next door neighbor is no different. It requires effort, deliberate effort applied to unwanted tasks like finding a new home, abandoning the motor coach, and dealing with snow. I need big motivation to see this transition through.  I need a community. In my years on the road I’ve made friends that live across the country and around the world. Even though I can IM them anytime, knowing that I may never see them again is heartbreaking and lonely. I can’t keep building this virtual community. I want a real one. Deep down I think we al...

The last time I went into the phone store to upgrade my cell phone I looked for one that was just a phone . "No such thing on your plan," the clerk told me. "Besides, it's good to have the camera on the phone, in case you are in a car accident, or something like that."   Really? My mother always told me about wearing clean undies in case I was in a car accident, but now I have to carry a camera too?   Like most of my generation I don't understand the fascination with phone cameras and caring a cache of images in my hands 24 hours a day. Of course needing glasses to see those tiny photos is probably part of the turn off. Oh don't get me wrong. I love my photos as much as the next person. But, I continually and carefully to edit my collection. Photographs capture so much more than an image. They are full of memory triggers --- which can be good or bad. They take us back to the past -- which can be good or bad. Seriously, photos of some of ...

Yesterday we prepared for today's rains.  Oh, and did they come. One cloud burst right after another. Rain. Wind. Hail. Game delayed.  Game on. Game delayed. Game on. Forty degrees. Wet and cold. Inning after inning fans and workers nestled together in any bit of shelter they could find. Any person in their right mind could see that the weather was not fit for man, beast, or baseball, but the show went on.  Whispers of when the game would be called circulated among the stadium staff, along with the inside info that ticket refunds would not be given if the team played a pre-determined number of innings. By the fourth inning even God had had enough.  A clap of thunder and a bolt of lightning came out of the sky and the game was finally and officially declared "rained out". I could tell you how miserable it was, especially cleaning up after all that, and how I came home wet, and dirty, and tired, and chilled to the bone. But as you can see from the images ...

Can you believe it?  I was actually invited on to the field. . . but not without strings attached. The stadium grounds crew was preparing for rain and asked our team to help maneuver an oversized tarp out of storage and over the field. Of course I graciously offered my assistance. Check out how the event unfolded. First the assembled the team. Then, I helped with leadership and direction. With Step 1 completed, we each grabbed a tarp handle and ran in unison to spread the tarp length-wise. Once unrolled the heavy tarp became a sea of billowing waves. With the process nearly completed, I took the opportunity to look around. Always willing to help, I moved unnecessary equipment out of the way. I did a little cleaning up, and checked out the equipment. Finally, I took a well deserved rest. How fortunate I am.  Not everyone can enjoy a day  out in left field .

I've got to disconnect. Few habits are as addictive as sitting in front of the tv, viewing mindless mediocre entertainment and eating delicious comfort food. It's been more than a few days and already I'm suffering from indigestion and snug pants. Why is it so difficult to turn that darn television off and get back to the activities of life? I know I'm not the only one that is challenged with the power switch. Today is a new day.  I am disconnecting.  Completely. Disconnecting the cable, wrapping it up, and stashing it behind lock and key.  It's the only way. Won't you join me?  If only for a weekend? We can all afford a little break from the tube. Choose one thing you could do instead of watching television this weekend --- and then act. Before you reach for that remote, choose another thing -- and act again. Continue acting instead of watching others act. Who knows what will come from living your very own reality show. . .