So, where to begin?
As most of you know, last year I sold everything I owned, including my house, business, and sizable retirement fund, and sunk it into a million-dollar property in Provincetown, a beautiful seaside resort at the very tip of Cape Cod that I had visited annually for many years and fell in love with. It was a chance to move to a beautiful new area, to own my own storefront rather than waste $30,000 a year renting one, and to have a drastic change in my life that I felt I sorely needed. Well, it certainly has been drastic, but not at all in the way I had planned.
The phrase "it's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there" certainly applies to Provincetown. Of course, you don't find this out until you've already moved. While it certainly is beautiful - the sand dunes, the beaches, the ocean, the quaint 19th century streets, the people - the beauty quickly fades come September, and for a good 6 months it's a god-forsaken land at the end of the earth, often bleak, desolate, viciously windy and bitterly cold. While I somewhat knew this before I moved, I didn't expect it to be so extreme. I didn't know so many people leave town in the "off season" (Census data claimed 3000 year-round residents, which I thought a good amount to support my newsstand. In reality, local off-season business was virtually non-existent since so many residents escape to warmer climes in the winter).
To make matters worse, summer business wasn't that strong either, and far below what I had anticipated. I knew that many shops depend on a strong summer to get them through the slow months, but tourism up here was severely down last year (gas prices? Cape too expensive?). Add to this a very nasty trio of lesbians who run a convenience shop next to mine who did everything in their power to bad-mouth me (which is very effective in a small New England town) , including reporting me numerous times for bogus "violations" (things are regulated here to an extreme degree), and it all adds up to a very unpleasant situation, hardly the halcyon future I envisioned.
So, by September (I moved here last April and opened the shop in June), I saw trouble on the horizon. The brutal winter totally confirmed my suspicions. There is no way for me to survive here under these circumstances. I never in a million years expected that to be the case, or I wouldn't have risked so much to come here. So, I put the property on the market in March, hoping to sell in a very weak market. So far, no bites.
At least summertime is finally here, and the living may not be easy, but it's not as awful as winter and spring. My plan is to survive thru Labor Day, and then leave. Whether that happens by selling the place, getting foreclosed on, or going bankrupt remains to be seen.
So yes, my dream has turned to shit. But as I like to believe there's a reason for everything, I'm not as bitter as one might expect of someone who may lose hundreds of thousands of dollars. I've known what it's like to have money most of my life - hell, I built a 3600 square foot house in the best neighborhood in town when I was 25 - and it doesn't bring happiness. Sometimes not even comfort. It can be burdensome, and things can have you rather than you having things. Things are empty. So while I don't advocate for poverty, I do advocate for a small comfortable shelter, an enjoyable job and enough money to get by on without having to worry. Hopefully I can achieve this in the next stage of my life, as well as less work. I worked 60-hour weeks for much of my 27 years in business - what good is it to own nice things when you can't enjoy them? That's not success. One good thing about this winter was that I had more free time than I've had since I was 18, and mostly loved it.
I've also learned for the first time in my adult life what it's like to live with someone (my friend Kevin, who has lived here with me most of the last year), and that has been a nice change that I adapted to fairly quickly. Of course, it is a big house, so we each have our own space. There have also been other visitors who have stayed briefly. Gee, maybe people can bring happiness and not wealth and possessions? I've never much trusted my limited capacity for sustained human contact (I haven't dated anyone in over 5 years), and am resigned to thinking that not everyone is cut out to be part of a couple. Maybe I just feel I'm too high-maintenance (fussy) and independent. If I couldn't find a mate in Provincetown, the gay capital of the East Coast, then what are my chances elsewhere? Honestly, I don't even think I was much interested in finding anyone. If they found me I might have acquiesced, but that's pretty passive. I also haven't felt well for months due to all the stress I've been under, so this doesn't help me feel very marketable.
In other news, I had surgery a month ago in Boston to have a benign nerve tumor removed - again - from my brachial plexus, a very complex part of the anatomy behind the collarbone that feeds nerve impulses to your entire limb (arm, hand), neck and shoulder area. I had already had this done at Yale five years ago, but it grew back since they failed to remove all of it. The second time around is usually worse, and it was. The surgery left me much more impaired than last time - hopefully temporarily - and I have lost almost all feeling, strength and movement in my left hand. Let me tell you, there are an awful lot of things that are near impossible to do with only one hand, and an arm is pretty useless without a functioning hand at the end of it. I can't tie my shoes or button/zip pants or open mail or jars or god forbid open just about any type of food or product package (this can be hard enough to do with two hands). And I am, of course, typing this with my right hand only, which I've become somewhat adept at. I go to physical therapy twice a week, which at this point mainly involves getting the fluid out of my swollen fingers. The pain has been bad at times (both aching and shooting), but painkillers help there somewhat. Peripheral nerves regenerate at a rate of only one millimeter a day (but thank god they do!), so it will likely be 3 to 6 months before I have my hand back, hopefully without dysfunction.
That's all for my introduction, I'll update throughout the summer. Hopefully knowing I'll soon be free of the pressure of trying to make this all work will make it a somewhat enjoyable one. My last hurrah, at least for this venture.
(The pic was taken this morning of me and my buddy Marley)
1 comment:
Hi Tim, Really enjoyed reading your blog and of course the picture of my grandson. I still say you are a fantastic writer and maybe somewhere down the road you can pursue that. Keep your chin up, things will get better. We Love you Mom and Dad
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