The Trolley To Nowhere?!

Well, it appears that the Valdez Family will not be relocating to the great City by the Bay.  I realize this may come as a "what is she talking about?!" moment for most of you, so let me enlighten you.

We live in a nomadic society.  People rely less upon the traditional neighborhood model and more upon career opportunity when contemplating where to set up their tent.  Especially in the ultra modern technological world, where information and training cross paths with new developments at ever increasing speeds.

Unless one has a dream job, a position that rewards on all fronts -- challenge, growth, advancement, money, co-workers, location, you get me here -- one often posts a resume on any one or two or more Internet sites where prospective employment traffic intersects.  Headhunters filter and search.  E-mails and phone numbers are culled.  Contact is made.  Often, quite out of the blue.  Usually, nothing more than a nice ego stroke comes of it.  "Hey, I'm valid.  I've got the skills.  This other company knows it."  Rarely does one hear or read the magic combination of words and numbers which actually create a viable prospect.  Stimulate excitement.  Incite an entire family to discuss the Pros and Cons and options of a move, hours of discussion crammed within the space of a January weekend, before deciding to toss the ol' hat in the ring.  In fact, it's safe to assume that this type of post-and-fugettahboutit behavior actually places a person and his family in a position whereby they don't even realize they are open, even eager, to stride into a new and unknown arena until the proposition pops up.

But that's exactly what happened to us.  Suddenly, there's a tailored position which matches every point on paper, er, screen.  The only rub is that its halfway across the country on the West Coast.  But I think, "Wow!  Silicon Valley?  It doesn't get any closer than that!  If it opens up new horizons for my husband, cuts down on his late-night/early morning phone sessions, brings a smile to his face a bit more often, AND I could be near my brothers for the first time since high school," and I'm forty one, folks, "then who I am to say right out of the gate that we absolutely can't entertain this option?!"  After all, we are not ultra conservative in this department.  (Not really ANY department.)  A calculated risk with perceived benefits has moved us at least five times since we married almost twenty three years ago.  Without fail, it has always worked out.

SILICON VALLEY

We expected opposition from the minor ranks, but not one of the children protested.  In fact, our boy was beside himself, dreaming of the beach, his cousins, a chance to experience city life.  The girls had work and boyfriends and college and were unafraid to rely on the network of family and friends that would remain in our wake.  We checked real estate, crunched rudimentary numbers, decided living IN the city would be our direction, and we would not be afraid to rent.  Of course, there were still school districts to research and a dozen and a half other points to iron out, but this was only a preliminary phase.  The phone interview could reveal holes in his knowledge; the in-person interview might expose personality conflicts.  One step at a time.  And I won't bore you with the litany of home improvements I ticked off on that neverending mental list of mine: it makes preparing for my daughter's graduation party in May, with all of the out-of-town company we are expecting, seem like a delightful picnic.

So today, with butterflies fully activated in our tummies, we threw our hat out there via e-mail.  Only to have it handed back.  There was a miscommunication about salary.  We had prayed for doors to be resoundingly SHUT if this was not the situation best suited to our present needs and desires.  Unless we were a troupe of circus elephants, we could not live on peanuts!  Sounds like a SLAM! to me.  Sigh.
One by one, I responded to the multiple texts sent to me by each of the kids and the one person with whom we shared this information right from the inception, my brother, John.  (May I just say that in those three wonderful days of consideration, I received more calls and texts from that busy man than I have in the past three months!  He was as excited at the prospect of us being closer to him as we were.  Sad.)  My plans to tell my neighbor what we were trying for dried up.  Ditto for Laurie in Wyoming, Michelle in New Mexico, and Rebekah & Laurel in Colorado.  Not to mention the joy I would have experienced in telling Brother Gary that he would have family just hours away from him if everything went well.  (As for the loving relatives who would have thought, either outwardly or privately, that we'd lost our ever-loving minds?  We were ready for them, too!)

There's not one thing wrong with our current situation.  The security and comfort of our lives has been due in very large part to the hard work of my husband.  The company which employs him has been outstanding on all levels of provision -- from life insurance to health insurance, from salary to respect.  He's not complaining.  I'm not complaining.  It's just that for one brief and shining weekend, there was this tantalizing hook dangled out in front of us, with the promise of stimulation and life options that people just don't get all that often.  For my husband, it was the chance to fully utilize his education and training as opposed to stewing within the limitations of management.  For my son, it was beaches and bikinis and Cousin Isaac and change.  For me, it was Chinatown and sourdough and baby brothers.  (There are fleeting moments where thoughts of that dormant cancer lying in John's belly frighten me into realizing the fleeting nature of anyone's future.  Where Gary's physical and emotional limitations impose a reality in which he is never released and simply settles in without benefit of nurturing company.)  And less yard and house . . . translating into actual writing time . . . maybe I would improve and actually string together something more meaningful, intellectual, and bulkier than a blog entry at a time!

Therefore, I now 'undeliver' (it's a word tonight) the delivery of surprising and interesting family news I was set to post on that fantastic social playground, Facebook.  I'm still here in Tennessee.  WE are still here in Tennessee.  It's after midnight.  The kids and husband sleep.  The socks and underwear remain unfolded.  There's half a pan of dark chocolate and walnut brownies in need of covering.  My taxes are partially done.  And regardless of whether we move in the near future or not, there's a headache-starting list of fix-it chores for this house of ours.

Take care, streets of San Francisco.