Susan and I are both retired, living together. We are, however, approaching it differently, at times. Susan is a planner and I’m the spontaneous one. She tells me that spontaneity is a euphemism in my case, and what I really have is pervasive procrastination syndrome. I tell her that she fusses too much over details way too far in advance.
Then we skip happily together into the future, sometimes taking unexpected random left turns in the dark and at other times embarking on detailed vacations with concrete itineraries that include flight times, hotel accommodations, car rentals, and daily entertainment activities, all paid in advance, with the tickets and receipts ordered sequentially in clearly marked envelopes.
We trade off. It’s no secret that we often annoy each other with our different approaches to time travel, and we voice our opposition without constraint, but truth be told we have both pulled off some great adventures, so we acquiesce.
We also organize activities differently based on time frames. Susan does all the future planning. Any events taking place more than a week or two in advance are entirely inside her territory. If it’s going to happen next fall or next spring, she’s got it covered. She’s already started a file, and likely booked a room.
However, if the plans are immediate, as in what to do tonight or this weekend, then that range is mine to plan. I decide when we see “Guardians of the Galaxy 2,” when we cut out for Japanese food, when we go touring about the state, and where we go to catch live music.
Currently Susan has arranged the following excursions. We are taking a week-long Caribbean Blues Cruise. We are flying with our oldest two grandsons for a week in downtown New York City just off Broadway to see the sights. We are flying to Philadelphia to visit Gino and other friends. We are spending a week in Portland just to see what it’s all about. Those trips are all booked and paid. We will travel to Ireland, Prague, and Sicily as soon as she gets around to it.
In the meantime, it is currently the middle of last week. My territory. Today at 4:30 p.m. I’m taking Susan and a couple friends on a brief Bay Area adventure. If it’s a gas, I’ll share it later.
We are going to explore by car and foot the Bernal Heights region of San Francisco. I’ve been hearing about it for years as a great neighborhood full of popular lounges and eateries. Much history and artistry resides there.
I love the city. I love taking guests there. But I feel trapped like a carnival goldfish in the downtown region. Visitors want to see the big attractions, Market Street, Union Square, Chinatown, North Beach, Fisherman’s Wharf, and the ocean, and well they should. I would. When I’m alone with friends, however, I can branch out and take chances on new establishments.
I was thinking off topic. That’s how this all started. Susan and I were sitting up in bed one morning sharing a big tablet screen. We were on Google Earth, Apple Maps, Yelp, and a dozen other sites, exploring what there is to see in NYC. We took paper and mental notes on points of interest. We were trying to familiarize ourselves with the five boroughs, when I had a dawning thought.
“You know,” I said. “We are trying to memorize the locations of New York boroughs, but I don’t exactly know the Noe Valley from the Sunset District right here in San Francisco.”
Susan agreed. She said, “Chad and Kristi just stayed in the Dogpatch neighborhood. They found a great place to eat. I’ve never been there, and I was born in Berkeley.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” I said. “Where the heck is the Dogpatch? I’ve lived here 40 years.” She shrugged. I looked it up. It was just down Cesar Chavez from Bernal Heights, a place I’ve yearned to visit for years.
“You know it wouldn’t take much time or expense. We should drive over there on a week day and check it out.” She was amenable. I texted some friends to join us. They wrote back, “How about Thursday.” The trip was on. That’s spontaneity.
My local friend Marnix is a walker. He likes to do 15-25 miles on his day hikes, and his favorite place to hike is throughout San Francisco. He’ll walk from the airport to the Golden Gate Bridge then back through downtown to Bart. He has an app that marks his trails for sharing, and he takes tons of photos. He assures me there is a lifetime of wonder awaiting those who explore San Francisco to its depths.
We won’t stop traveling. We will cover many miles and spend many dollars and have many memories. Susan will book us global adventures until we can no longer function. I don’t care where we go. She can pick the destinations. My area of influence shall remain in our own backyard.
I’ll confess here at the bottom, where few venture, that I have been slacking in the spontaneity department. Today’s trip to explore Bernal Heights is the first jaunt I’ve planned in too long. Susan said it would be quite all right if I swept her away to a seaside resort or surprised her with theater tickets or took her dancing. In the planning paradigm we’ve designed, that’s my department. What am I waiting for?

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