This whole retirement thing has been a fascinating experiment. Tomorrow marks the start of Week 2; the most interesting part so far has been the reaction of my (now former) co-workers.

“What will you do?”

“Will you stay in the area?”

“Will you travel?

All questions were accompanied by looks of deep concern.

It was baffling.

The worst part was the incessant use of the term “your next chapter.” So in fact, those questions were: What will you do in your next chapter? Will you stay in the area for your next chapter? Will you travel during your next chapter?

I managed to make it through those two months with a smile of appreciation for the kind wishes regarding my “next chapter.” Saddled with a brain that tends towards logic, my challenge was to not enter into a discussion about how many chapters the average book contains and did the well-wisher really expect me to only have a few pages left to flip before, well, epilogue time.

After a career as a writer and storyteller, it makes sense to me that a retirement blog is in order. I secured TooMuchBrudders.com three years ago, but only now find that my mind is clearing to the point of turning on Beatles music, pulling up an old photo, and telling a story.

Twenty years ago, when I was pregnant for the third and final time, middle child John was asked repeatedly about his hopes for the sibling’s gender.

The answer was always the same: “I want a sister. There’s already too much brudders.”

Indeed. I grew up with three brothers and no sisters. And with the birth of James, three sons and no daughters. One grandchild: Cameron (a boy).

Brudders. Couldn’t imagine it any other way. And couldn’t imagine any other name for this journal.

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