Become a Butterfly

Every year in the spring and fall thousands of our senior citizens migrate with their recreational vehicles (RVs). They leave a cold climate for the warmth of Florida or the southwest then return with the advent of warmer weather.

Several years ago, I was in an RV park in southwest Florida when I discovered many are not the brave traveler exploring new places but rather seeking comfort in a cocoon with their peers.

During a typical evening gathering, the snowbirds came together for fellowship and entertainment. Not for a bingo game or a dance but for a simple pot-luck dinner that is standard fare for many RV parks. I was somewhat surprised to learn the conversation was not about out of the way places they discovered but rather how many doctors they were seeing and how many different medications they were taking each day.

One man, in his middle or late sixties, was educating me on each of the 23 medications he swallowed on a daily basis. Proud of each one like a veteran telling about the ribbons that decorated his uniform in years past. Then, he made a statement that seemed to me to be a wake-up call.

"I'm not afraid of dying you know," and added for emphasis, "I'm really not!"

His confidence and demeanor supported his declaration and I have no doubt he could face death without great anxiety or fear. But as I told him anecdotes of the places I had visited during the past few years, which ranged from Florida to Mexico and Guatemala; returning by way of Yellowstone and Teton National Parks and middle America. He began to tell me why he could not travel that way.

It was not because he could not afford such a trip or because he did not have an RV capable of an extended journey, it was because he tied himself to his doctors and his pills. His bravery was evident with the diseases he faced every day. But, in a way, these medical problems became his cocoon, his security blanket. It was probably true he had no fear of dying but after listening to his litany of daily pills my mouth went into gear before my brain filtered the statement and I told him: "I honestly believe you're not afraid of dying but I really think you're terrified of living."

This uttered observation ended the conversation as abruptly as if I had slapped him and I guessed I had alienated my newfound friend. As I walked back to my RV I explored the cocoon theory.

Here is an entire segment of our society, retirees with RVs but their only travels are from a home base to a winter haven. They are capable of navigating the highways in everything from 40 foot Class A motorhomes or towing a travel trailer or fifth wheel trailer, sometimes nearly equaling the size of an 18-wheeler. So the excuse of not being able to meet the demands of travel is not a valid one. After all, they are riding bikes, walking and often playing golf everyday. So, I thought, there was only one reason left, the psychological.

With today's health care system and national chain pharmacies where computerized systems allow for prescriptions to be filled across the country just like at home, there is no reason not to explore the places you've been reading about. It is just a matter of realizing that the fear of dying has been replaced with the fear of living.

The snowbirds I've met leave the familiarity of their home base to travel hundreds and sometimes over a thousand miles to seek the comfort of a different climate. They dare to navigate their RVs across miles of interstate highways or back roads. Facing all kinds of possible calamities along the way. They do this without fear. But to leave the self-imposed comfort zone of that regular trip and strike out in a different direction takes no more daring. Why not play golf at a place you always wanted to or take your walk and watch the antics of roadrunners instead of herons in the marsh?

As the gentleman in Florida said: "I'm not afraid of dying." Why not adopt another equally brave attitude and conquer another fear, that of living. Break out of your cocoon, spread your wings and become the beautiful butterfly that savors life with all the opportunities it offers. Oh yes, the gentleman in Florida approached me the day following our conversation and told me: "I thought about what you said," then he paused and added, "you gave me something to think about and next year we're going out west to see places my wife and I haven't been."