The transition has begun!
No, not that transition!
In 2016, my wife and I moved into a loft on Dauphin Street in Downtown Mobile. Our previous home had a pool, five bathrooms, and almost five-thousand square feet of living space. Our new digs had one room, a bathroom, and a gallery overlooking the street below. (Most people not from Mobile or New Orleans would call it a balcony.)
For the eight years we lived there, we rented a storage unit for our overflow goods. We paid more for the storage unit than the street value of its contents.
Living in downtown Mobile was something we will never forget. Each day started with a sunrise you could see over the river that was as breathtaking as any sunset I’ve seen. Two of our five children were married at the Cathedral Basilica one block down.
I decided to lose about forty-five pounds before their two weddings, which were only a few months apart. Part of that regimen was getting up in the dark and running along the river as part of the route. That’s when I witnessed the sunrises.
I’ve written many stories about the people who’ve ridden in my Uber car. I enjoyed their stories and the variety of personalities you get from listening to them.
The same can be said while sitting on the gallery. My wife thoroughly enjoyed the show. We’ve seen ballet dancers, fire baton jugglers, kid’s musical and dance troupes, parades (including the Jimmy Buffett memorial parade), cycling groups, and countless semi-organized gatherings. One of our favorite events was the monthly art walk.
We’ve witnessed many ad hoc events, including verbal and physical fights, car wrecks (often caused by people confused by the many one-way signs), and the colossal blaze when one section of the furniture store across the street burned down. During that particular fire, we were close enough to touch one of the ladder-borne firemen as he maneuvered his equipment right next to our gallery.
Perhaps one of the more intriguing parts of sitting quietly on the gallery was watching and listening to the folks walking below and across the street. So many hand-holding couples sharing conversations passed by our loft. Families came with their kids to take part in the unique atmosphere of Downtown Mobile.
And, of course, we got to watch and listen to thousands of our youth experience their first forays into alcohol, legally and not so legally. I shake my head when people say they wish to return and live those times again. No thanks!
Maybe one of the best advantages was walking to dozens of venues for food, drink, and entertainment. Yep, we’ll miss all of those things.
“So what’s all this about transition?”
My wife, Lane, and I raised five kids in Mobile. Unfortunately, none of them live in Mobile. Our oldest two daughters and their families reside in Gulf Breeze, Florida, about seventy-five miles away. Our other children and their families live in Chevy Chase, Maryland, Birmingham, and Franklin, Tennessee. Our oldest grandchildren live in Gulf Breeze.
We chose to move to Gulf Breeze. We love the similarity of heat and humidity. Truthfully, Gulf Breeze feels more like East Alabama than West Florida. I read recently that most of the Florida panhandle was settled by Alabamians. I like that.
We moved to our new townhouse in May. That means commuting five days a week to my job at Little Sisters of the Poor. I can make it in under an hour and a half on a good day. On my worst day, I left Little Sisters at 4:00 pm and arrived home just after 8:00 pm.
I’m lucky because traveling west in the mornings and east in the afternoons means the sun is always behind me. I’m also blessed because I love listening to audiobooks, podcasts, and other fascinating material as I drive.
My alarm goes off at 5:00 am each weekday. By the time I’m prepared to leave, the sun is rising. When I reach Pensacola Bay Bridge, the sun rises on my right from the east. Lately, I’ve noticed a gigantic full moon in the sky on my left. (Fun fact: We often think the moon is closer to us than it is. I’ve read that you could fit all planets in our solar system between the moon and Earth.)
As beautiful as it is, this view is not the only one I’ll experience before I reach the Little Sisters. As you approach Mobile Bay, you see countless settings of God’s nature, looking south into the Bay and north to the Delta. When you think you’re through, you exit the Bankhead Tunnel and witness the beautiful oaks lining Government.
I think I get to see Mobile as my riders, who were first-time visitors to our city, see it. Beautiful!
As for the transition, Lane and I love our time with family. We’ve enjoyed meals, pickleball, trivia nights out, pool parties, and just plain time together.
However, we have discovered some unexpected “entertainment” we didn’t experience in Mobile. While we’ve certainly seen plenty of lizards in Mobile, our screened-in porch welcomes dozens of these critters scurrying about. (Lane doesn’t really welcome them, but she’s learning tolerance.) Plenty of turtles wander by on the way to and from our neighborhood lake.
Nevertheless, we’ve been most surprised by our most prominent visitors. It’s a little unnerving to relax on our porch in the early evening only to look up and see a fully grown black bear saunter by within ten to fifteen feet of us. Lane has experienced nine of these moments. I’ve seen eight.
I need only remember that we survived eight years in downtown Mobile. Surely, we can handle a few wandering mammals.
I will continue to commute to work at the Little Sisters of the Poor until after the Annual Lawn Party on October 20th. Please make plans to attend. It’s a wonderful event and helps the Sisters continue to care for the elderly in need.
In the meantime, I’ll look to the skies as I cross Pensacola Bay Bridge each morning and travel between the sun and the moon.
God Bless,
Tommy
P. S. – If you enjoy these columns, I would appreciate you asking friends or family to subscribe. It’s free, and I certainly appreciate your support. Here’s the link to send – Subscribe to Tommy’s Blog