Retirement

Retire­ment is sweet as we work when we want to, loaf when we want to, sleep when and as long as we want to, go places, stay as long as we wish and do not have to leave our lit­tle home on stormy days, while we watch work­ing peo­ple fight­ing the weather. Dad always has a build­ing pro­gram start about April 10th and con­tinue until past freeze up. It is nice, us two work­ing side by side, amongst our flow­ers, in our gar­den or mak­ing our home, “what we wish it to be.”

In our younger years we looked at peo­ple who were our present ages then and hoped we wouldn’t live to that dod­der­ing con­di­tion of over three score and ten, but we must have lived right for at 74 and 71 we are invited to card games and come home with more than our share of the prizes. One of our friends from Cal­gary said to Louis a short time ago, “Lou! How are you? What am I say­ing, noth­ing ever gets wrong with you or Mrs. Switzer!”

That was not entirely true as we do get ter­ri­bly tired often, but have learned to quit in time. We want the dozen Switzers who call us Moms and Dad to learn that and prac­tice it. They are young, com­par­a­tively speak­ing, and full of strength and life, but some­times over­step their capa­bil­i­ties. That will not be for long, we think, as they are smart.

I will soon be 74 and Dad will be 72 in August. We have a new home which just fits us and we like the peo­ple around us, so what more can we want. Travel is so tir­ing and liv­ing else­where where we are not known would be bad. Our chil­dren are miles away but not too far if we need them or vice versa. They often fur­nish us with a heat­ing pad or cer­tain other things for our com­fort and plea­sure and in turn we do the things which help them over dif­fi­cult place. That is what we are for and what they are for, also. It is a con­tin­u­ance of our lives when they were at home as children.

We often look at the mag­nif­i­cent views we have of a farm­ing rise in land, then far­ther on the range coun­try foothills, beyond which the remain­ing miles of the 90 to the som­bre peaks of the Rock­ies are cov­ered with conif­er­ous trees which show to us as dark slopes below white spires of grandeur. At 9 a.m., Feb­ru­ary 28, today, the prairies and foothills are bathed in sun­shine with the ther­mome­ters at 40 above zero. All of the peaks are invis­i­ble, save one range, because of inter­ven­ing mists and clouds, but the white­ness of those peaks we can see is scin­til­lated by the very bright sun like a fairy­land amidst the gloom of the gray­ing mists.

Today the peaks look low, another day they will seem high, as the mirages play about. Often grain ele­va­tors show in a sec­tor where we know they are but can­not be seen because of high prairie between us and them. We some­times drive north on No. 2 high­way to get cof­fee at one of the cof­fee coun­ters. We can see a fin­ger or two of the Hand Hills, 60 miles north­east, if the weather is clear.

The coun­try between us is undu­lat­ing but rel­a­tively level, brightly painted farm­steads show here and there and in sum­mer a green land­scape stretches as the spring wheat, oats and bar­ley grow to matu­rity then turn to tan as they ripen.

If one stops and with field glasses scans the coun­try at har­vest time, he can see dozens of $10,000 to $20,000 out­fits oper­at­ing in a haze of light dust to get the crop in before snow fly shuts oper­a­tions off.

We are 30 min­utes from Cal­gary, 335,000, with its places of beauty, hos­pi­tals, wind­ing boule­vards and hus­tling peo­ple. Its zoo has a brand new baby giraffe which was born this month, also ele­phants, rhi­noc­er­oses, hip­popotami, lions, tigers, bears, mon­keys and dozens of kinds of strange birds.

We can be at Banff in 100 min­utes, one of the world’s play­grounds with its scenery, swim­ming, ski­ing bob sled­ding and wild life along the No. 1 high­way which winds through the National Park. We often take stale cook­ies or buns for the wild bears or goats or sheep, which wait for them and take them from out hands, but are too quick for us to touch them.

Clover­leafs in Banff Park des­ig­nate other exotic places a few miles far­ther, where fresh fruit may be seen on the trees in sea­son and pur­chased cheaply, while lakes, sur­rounded by tall moun­tains pic­ture back to adjoin­ing landscape.

We feel our life is very full with all out of doors within a few miles and good roads to get there. We have no wish to return to live in Illi­nois. Thirty-seven years in one town the size of Avon has it’s spe­cial advan­tages, which we do not wish to change. Planes slip over­head on their way from the U.S. to Alaska and inter­ven­ing points. Thou­sands of pas­sen­ger cars pass within 1 block of our home where tourists from every­where min­gle with local peo­ple, as they whizz on their ways. Dozens of heavy trans­port trucks thun­der past daily with hardly a glance from local peo­ple. Every­thing is very com­mon­place, but international.

Next: Switzer His­tory to 1967