The Camper

Bringing the camper home from Iowa 2018

This might make you giggle as I’m sitting outside, early sunny Thursday morning, on a step stool, quite darn impressed by myself. 

Wait, a minute, let me get a bit more comfortable for writing.

OK, all set. I've just moved inside, into my camper. Its cozy: cushioned seats, backrest, lots of fresh air streaming in the open windows, a counter at the perfect height to put my coffee. Oh look, first Addie and now all three dogs have jumped in and settled themselves on the couches that are also beds. And I’m still quite darn pleased with myself.

This morning, after washing the entire exterior of the camper yesterday afternoon and getting myself soaked in the process, I caulked some seams that were leaking around a window and an essential moveable roof seam. I believe that is/may be the final repair before I take it on the road.

I think every girl and/or woman should have a camper, preferably one in need of slight repairs. A friend of mine, another young widow was lamenting how she had wanted to take shop as a teen 50 years ago but her school had a firm no. Might surprise some of my younger readers but shop was for boys, home ec(onomics) or typing was for girls. Even today, as is often true, when we are in relationships, one partner takes on one series of responsibilities and another takes on a separate set, equitable distribution of labor, or simply divide and conquer. Pragmatically it makes sense. And one partner grows one way, the other another. Jim loved fixing things and building things. He was an engineer. He was our fixer, our builder. I loved gardening, the forest, creating welcoming events. Jim on the other hand couldn’t keep a plant alive. Together we kept this home running and in tip top shape. There were many things we delighted in together and we delighted in each other. Truly a division of equals.

Charlie begging for Jim's breakfast in the camper.

Awe. Bella and Jim.

At our Maine campsite.

As you know, when Jim was in his last year so much started to go wrong at the house. It was overwhelming. Jim wanting desperately to live, to be husband of the house, insisted on trying to deal with what was failing (perhaps a metaphor for his own health, he needed to be able to put things to rights) but of course he couldn’t and my focus was on trying to keep him alive and then later when it was all too apparent, for him to have a good death—not one full of worry but full of love and tenderness. 

Jim and I beginning a road trip with the camper.

Right up until this past week actually I was still contending with much that was left from that time—the bookshelves collapsing, lights needing rewiring, water heater and appliances dying, flooring coming up, pond liner failing, roofing needing replacement, windows that had failed, driveway sinking and crumbling, and even porches that had detached, and swales and large groundwork needing to be implemented to protect the house and property. Large, overwhelming stuff to me who was not the fixer. There were even more seemingly insurmountable things too—legal, financial, and of course heaviest of all, emotional to overcome. In short, these last three years, I faced A LOT that I never imagined I would have to or had the skills to set all to rights and while deep in disbelief, grief, and trauma. One by one  with much guidance and support from those who love me, plus engineers, a grief counselor, three lawyers, doctors, etc. everything is now stable. With this amazing support, I have survived and learned so much (most that I really did not care to learn) AND here I am extremely grateful I could learn and that I’ve had the fortitude and the means to learn. I’m privileged in that way and that needs acknowledgement. It’s a shade between surviving and failing when one is a widow or one is confronting life’s biggest challenges. Growing up with good parents, a strong education, solid friendships, AND resilience is a gift and an enormous benefit. I have been blessed.

Yet, that is just the beginning.

Once again, I’m facing change. Retirement. Which originally was envisioned as more time with my beloved Jim, enjoying, growing, exploring...much like many of my friends and family are doing now. My script needs editing again which brings me to the emblematic camper…

The camper readied and ready in my driveway.

With finally leaving Champlain and that very demanding dean job, I’ve been able to focus on the camper which has sat unopened since Jim’s sister Cathy last slept in it during Covid as Jim was dying. It has sat parked, mostly covered, in the side lawn wild raspberries growing up around the back of it all this time. Hidden in the shade, out of the way of the plow. For two summers, I’ve mowed around it, checked for evidence of chipmunks, worried, realized that it was not yet time to travel. It has weighed on my mind—it once held promises of our adventures to come, the memory of a beautiful trip from Iowa (my Dad’s alma mater and where we purchased it) to Vermont, to visiting Jim's sister Mary and brother-in-law Steve on the Cape, a delicious week in Maine, and then the beginning of the end—our incomplete cross-country trip where the very first night in Gettysburg Jim took dreadfully ill and the terrifying week playing out in the hospital with Jim’s surgery biblically on Good Friday. Gettysburg, where I was running purely on adrenalin and love. That camping trip includes my rescue by my brothers Bob and Dave coming from entirely different parts of New York State on a holiday weekend to rescue me for which I will be ever grateful even after most of my memories are gone. My knights.

Jim suddenly ill our first night in Gettysburg, April 2019.

Jim hospitalized. After multiple attempts at care, it was discovered that the cancer had caused a blockage of his colon. Very frightening time. From that point on, our roles changed.

My brothers Bob (on the floor) and Dave preparing for a night's sleep after they arrived post Jim's surgery. They helped me pack up and find a hotel to bring Jim to after his release. Good Saturday 2019. 

Widowhood leaves one sorting not only the physical remnants of one's beloved past but likewise sorting through our joint passions and dreams. No longer a wife or one partnered, I’ve had to ask who am I now? No longer only the gardener but now the fixer too. What do I do with things like the camper that had supported our lives then and held promises of future joy? What works for me now? And being very pragmatic, if I don’t want it, shouldn’t someone else enjoy it now? And who? 

Jim at the "top" of Bar Harbor, Maine 2018

I am just not the same Ann that I was. 

In the case of the camper, I am unsure of what I want yet. And that’s the point. I have always loved camping. Jim may have gone across country on a bicycle alone and camped through hurricanes but I have been a camper since childhood. After childhood, tent camping with friends in the Finger Lakes, and again, during my first marriage up and down the East Coast, later still as a single mom on large multi-generation family trips which luckily Jim got to join once we married. Camping may even be written in my Biehler DNA. I think of my beloved Uncle Lou camping and fishing in Alaska—and still my Aunt MaryJo with their camper in southern New York. Even before that they primitively camped with my grandparents way up north where no toilets were. Perhaps I moved to Vermont because of this deep love of the wild, of the forests. Yes, in my blood. But perhaps that time in my life is over? When Jim died, a lot of me died but at three years, I hear my soul calling out "I am still alive!"

Our Maine campfire

Part of the reason we chose this particular camper is how it comfortably allows travel with the three dogs: air conditioned, heated, with space for three crates when needed. It also folds up and unfolds like a transformer with a push of a button. And so, this summer, I decided “well the only way to figure this out is to go camping in it again.” I am alone now, improbably alone, it's a hard pill to swallow yet three years out, I’ve swallowed it. So that is that, try it by myself, that is precisely what the plan is.

When I pulled the camper out of its three-year brambled parking place in early July many things were not working. Dead battery. Roof wouldn’t lift. Lifter arm – called a linear actuator—had seized (see what I’ve learned?!).  I climbed under the camper discovering disconnected, hanging, chipmunk chewed wiring. Ants had gotten in making a home of a mattress, strewed the camper with their chewing, but thank heavens the chipmunks hadn't made it into the living areas. In the fall three years ago, a mobile camper repair service had come out and charged me $250.00 just to put potable anti-freeze in the lines! I was not about to do that again. So with the hard won knowledge that I’ve gained from the house, YouTube, camper forums, and my good neighbor Mike, I set about repairing the camper. Of course this also meant a flashlight to illuminate the tightly enclosed ant occupied space that I had to crawl into, solving one problem after another, applying skills of observation, research, tenacity, and knowing “righty tighty, lefty loosey” and “measure twice, cut (or connect) once” (thank you Jim), and most importantly, fearlessly following through each pathway to its logical end. A ratchet set, screw drivers, mallet, shop vac, electrical tape, adhesive, rust remover, and WD-40 have become my best friends. 

Favorite tools and scribbled YouTube notes.

Fuses helped pinpoint possibilities.

The final culprit.

Success!

In video games, one progresses from one challenge to another, slowly learning how to do what the game requires. It’s called leveling up. At a certain point, the gamer is put to a test before progressing—the boss fight. I feel that this camper has been my boss fight. Batteries and electrical systems had always scared me and yet now I can remove the cables and hook a battery system back up without fear. Ditto with the wiring that needed repairing (HINT: aways disconnect electricity before repairing wiring which means knowing how to disconnect a battery correctly or pull fuses and know your negative from your positive ends). Similarly, I've had to jump in and understand how to repair some of the mechanicals—the linear actuator, some loosened construction joints, and the water heater anode rod (impressed aren't you?). The camper is like having a mini-house on wheels with electrical, mechanical, plumbing, and interior (such as curtains, bedding, cook stove, microwave, sink, etc.) systems. Hence my thesis, every girl should have a camper—much better that a dollhouse for learning—both interior design and functional systems! The startlingly sad fact is that most women, 80% of us, will be single for an extended point in our lives and often dependent on contractors for help when things go wrong all at a time when our finances do not support it. Yet learning to take this on has taught me some funny things too: it seems that in these practical spheres of building, plumbing, mechanical, and electrical systems, it is all really rather simple—its all about connecting! Like a large dot-to-dot puzzle, find the connection points, understand how A and B fit together and what they achieve and one is all set. There are even interesting names for this: “male” and “female” connectors and “butt ends”. Who gave these things their names (or designs)? It does all seem like a pretty male-centric design scheme doesn’t it (or have I been reading too many stories of Zeus?)?

Extra mirrors in place, ready to get inspected.

Wednesday was the final test. It was time to get the camper inspected. Even after having driven us the entire two day trip back from Gettysburg with a post surgical Jim in the passenger seat, Wednesday I was nervous and drove it around the circle a few times, and backed it up my long driveway a few times. Pulled out onto the highway, and though I was really so incredibly nervous, it passed! I feel like I did too. Won one of many of my “boss fights”!  The camper, the dogs, and I will be headed off to Maine soon and I’m looking forward to looking out on that beautiful blue (I have an ocean site) and observing, painting, eating seafood, exploring, and relaxing. Even if it rains the entire time, I feel like it will be a win. A new challenge and I love the sound of rain in a campground. I can continue living and having new experiences, my next life. Of course, I’ll be taking my tools.

One of the things I love to do in Maine. This September 2019 and one of my first tiny oil paintings.

I can hear Jim, the engineer and my number one fan, in my mind with that twinkle in his olive eyes saying “you go girl!”. I hope in heaven, he’s getting some gardening done too. I hear the Elysian fields are gorgeous. The upkeep must be something. I bet he’s learning a lot just like me.

My campsite reservation for September.

Where I'll be campingI hope I can catch some sunsets like this again.