Far from home

Saying goodbye to a longtime residence isn't easy.

Anyone who knows me likely would agree that I don’t do change lightly.

I had one job for 39 years, and my 2013 model RAV 4 has 180,000 miles on it. I also had the same legal address for 35 years until recently selling our townhouse in Fredericksburg.

Even after marrying in 2017 and setting up base camp in Arlington, I kept what was originally my bachelor pad in Olde Greenwich to crash in at least one night per week while working. It was modest, but it was long ago paid for and a source of comfort and convenience.

After my job disappeared last September, though, that became a moot point. Yes, I still come to Fredericksburg regularly to check in on my parents and chauffeur them to appointments. I also have a gym membership and a weekly guitar lesson (one that hasn’t gotten me any closer to a record contract), and I like to check in with friends for lunch or an occasional beer.

But the taxes, insurance, homeowners association fees and utilities weren’t worth it anymore. So after weeks of cleaning out and cleaning up, updating the roof, electrical system, HVAC and sewer pipe, the townhouse finally went on the market. After one false start, we closed on a sale a couple of weeks ago, also closing a significant chapter of my life.

Bittersweet doesn’t begin to describe the emotions of saying goodbye to an old friend. This was the first property I ever bought, and it served as my home base for more than half my life. The words “luxurious,” “gourmet kitchen” or “pristine bathroom” were never associated with it — I was a lifelong bachelor, after all — but it was a site for friends to gather, to watch plenty of sports and Simpsons and Seinfeld episodes, or to spend quality time with my pup.

I have a bit of a hoarder gene, so purging three and a half decades’ worth of acquisitions wasn’t easy. But it was informative and nostalgic.

Over a couple of months’ time, I rid myself of roughly 90 percent of the house’s contents. It took dozens of trips to the county landfill to discard decades’ worth of Sports Illustrated editions and unneeded owner’s manuals, towels and kitchen ware. I donated furniture to Habitat for Humanity and clothes and lamps to Goodwill.

In the process, though, I found plenty of reasons to smile.

I came across decades’ worth of letters and cards from friends I had long forgotten; photos and newspaper clippings from high school and college; four decades’ worth of press credentials from events big and small; and programs from weddings and funerals through the years. (For some reason, I kept a matchbook from two friends’ wedding in 1989.) I even netted $50 from several unopened birthday cards.

The important stuff came north with me, and we’re still in the process of finding new homes for it all. My wife and I — okay, mostly she — spent Sunday afternoon clearing out shelf space that will soon hold my collection of 1970s baseball cards, a few trophies and some sentimental photos. (She has absolutely no hoarder tendencies.)

Happily, the proceeds allowed us to pay off the home equity line of credit we had used to renovate our Arlington residence. And it may help finance a new(er) car or two, since we have over 300,000 miles combined on our vehicles.

Still, it’s a strange feeling to move on to a new phase of life. Arlington has been my home for a while now, but letting go of a big piece of your past is never easy.

Now, about those baseball cards …