Comes A Time

“Comes a time, when you’re driftin’

Comes a time, when you settle down” . . .

In the words of Neil Young, there “Comes A Time.” My youth was definitely a time of driftin’ but not necessarily the way one might think. Most of my driftin’ happened in my mind. And I was driftin’ quite a bit.

Thirty-three years ago I was a sophomore in college. It seemed like that would be an amazing time in my life, but I was driftin’ more than I liked. My paternal grandfather was dying in Chicago, my studies fell below par, and I was in several relationships that did not serve me. Those factors and more kept my mind not only driftin’, it was spinnin’ out of control. At the time I did what I did best, I partied. Partying gave me a slight reprieve from all that was bothering me, but none of it went away. That is until “Cliff” came into my life and wiped my slate clean.*

October 16th, my 33rd anniversary, the day “Cliff” and I collided at Little Grand Canyon. I temporarily settled down because Cliff’s impact led to paralysis (Sis) which stopped me from doing the most basic tasks. Eventually, Cliff and Sis introduced me to Rod, as in Harrington, stainless steel surgically inserted into the center of my spine. Rod and I settled down years ago when I asked him to join me in my life journey. We’ve been very happy together. I plan to keep it that way.

I’ll be celebrating my life, my ability to walk, by taking a hike. I also see settling down with a glass of champagne. I’ll write about my life then, and my life now. I’ll explore what I have learned from driftin’ and from settling down. There comes a time. Be well… Nancy T

  • For more read, “Finding My Way From Paralysis To A Rich, Full Life.”


There are times that I pick up my roots, shake them off, look at them and wonder, where should I plant them, where should I go? Other times, I let my roots grow deep and I settle in. Then there are times that I yank my roots up, put them in an imaginary pot, and take them with me to explore other places.

Most people think roots are permanent, that they don’t need tending nor to be shaken up. For me, roots are things that serve us, that deepen our growth, that stabilize. However, they can run so deep that they keep us in places that no longer serve us.

In 1993, Las Vegas fit that bill for me. I’ve written about my cousin Jackie so if you follow my blog I need not say more. For those of you new to my writing I will simply say, “I went to Las Vegas to help Jackie.” It seemed like a simple and achievable goal. But in the end, my roots were withering and dying in Las Vegas. As my emotions escalated, my roots started to rot. Swimming nourished my roots as the desert sucked the soil dry. I couldn’t feel the Earth beneath me nor sustain me. Thankfully, I pulled up my roots and I moved on, with a little help (okay, a lot ) from my friends.

These days, I call several places home, Chicago, Prescott, California, the Caribbean. In doing so, some people think I am being disloyal to one. The saying, “Home is where the heart is,” comes to mind. My recent Caribbean adventure certainly served my heart. Prior to my Caribbean adventure, I went home, to my original roots, sweet home Chicago. As I planted my roots, they grew stronger being with my family, friends and clients. Without the love and support of my brother Jimmy and his wife Barb, rooting would have been difficult if not impossible. Being a vagabond doesn’t sustain me for long. The feeling of home helped my roots settle nicely.

As I shake the Earth from my roots in one place, I look for the next place to root. Whether it is for a long period of time or a short duration, I tend to dig in. In the Caribbean, the beach, the water, fun with friends, exploring the islands, that became home to me.

Upon my return a client said, “I couldn’t do what you do; go away for a month, that would make me crazy.” I smiled. I know he spoke the truth. For me, the challenge is seeing how my roots do planted in new places. I recognize what interests me in Prescott may not interest me elsewhere. Common threads accompany me wherever I go. To me, that is the gift of my roots, to sink in and find the Earth. They serve me and my roots are not attached to one location, they are transportable. My roots sustain me where I am.

What about you? What do your roots do for you? Be well…. Nancy T