I used to go the Home and Garden show every spring and at one of these shows there was a booth set up for one of the local bus tour companies.  You could get on a bus and take a tour for the day to one of our local places of  interest.  My sister and I loved them  So we stopped by the booth and looked at the flyers for the various trips being offered.  One of them caught my eye and so I put the flyer in my bag to read later.

The next evening I was going through the flyers and advertisements that I had taken with me from the show and I came across the bus company flyer,  Long one day trip to New York City.  Little did I know how that one little flyer would change my life.  I say down and read it and it sounded like fun.  You left on a Friday night and rode the bus all night, arriving in New York the following morning and you had 12 glorious hours of free time in New York to do whatever you wanted to do.  See the sites, shop, go to a play anything you could fit into a twelve hour day.  The bus dropped you off and picked you back up at a designated location.  All you had to do was be there.  I called my sister and we decided to go.

The evening of the trip my husband drove us to the pick up site.  There was the bus.  We were really going. My sister had brought pillows and blankets and we struggled all the way down the narrow aisle to our seats with all of our stuff.  We finally got it all in place and we waved to my husband as the bus pulled out.  We talked and looked at our map and our guide book and planned what we would do and see the following day.  Gradually we got tired and fell asleep.

 We woke the next morning getting close to the city.  We were stiff and still tired but the morning sun was shining and we were almost there.  The miles flew by as we went over our plans again.  We were ready.  The tour guide got up from her seat in the front of the bus and told us that in minutes we would be able to see the city in the distance. All eyes were straining for the first sight of New York,  She reached down and pushed the play button on a tape recorder she had with her and the voice of Frank Sinatra singing New York, New York filled the bus and at that moment with the sun shining and the music playing I saw the city in the distance,  and the feeling of finally coming home was so overwhelming that I started to cry.  Everyone else was cheering and laughing and there I sat with tears running down my face.  My sister saw me and asked what was wrong, was I sick.  But I smiled and said no I was just so happy to be home.

 I have never been able to explain that experience to my family.  You see we never lived there, had never even visited.  But in my heart I know that New York is my place.  I have made countless trips to the city since that day and the feeling is always the same.  The subway rumbling beneath the sidewalk, the smell of the hot dogs in the open carts, the sound of a million voices speaking in different languages intermingle with the cars and buses and trains and  jack hammers to make the sound of the city that is and always will be my home.

I am a single woman.  I live alone.  I am free to come and go as I choose. Great, but doesn’t that also mean nobody will miss me if I didn’t make it home one night.... or at least for a while. 

I started thinking about this one evening.  Things can happen... to anybody yes, but when you live alone, unless you do a check in daily, who would know if something happened.  That progressed to; what if I was hurt and ended up unable to communicate for awhile. Who would take care of my stuff?  Well yes, I do have a son and he is a great guy and he would take care of things.  But how would he know what to take care of.  What bills to pay and when and which ones are set for direct pay and what about money?  Could he access my accounts?  If I could not communicate how would he know my doctor’s name or phone number or what meds I was on or allergies?  Who would he call at work to report me off? 

Then the bigger questions started.  What if something more permanent happened to me,  Yes that’s what I mean.  What if I died.  How in the world would he know how to handle the things that needed to be done.  Not just the financial things but what about the pictures of the relatives from Europe.  He wouldn’t know who they were.  He wouldn’t know what jewelry was real and what was costume...  He would not know that the wine glass set is imported and valuable... He would not know how to reach some of my friends to even let them know.  and that was how it started.  I began "The book of Me".  I think we all should.  Make things easy for our families or our friends or whoever is going to have to do all of these things.  

I am not just talking about a will or a medical power of attorney.  Those are important and need to be done but so are tons of other things.  I started a list and it just kept growing.  Which banks I use, the account numbers and access codes, what insurance do I have and who to contact, what to do with the hundreds of pictures that I have and who are those people.  Which items are valuable and which are only valuable to me.  Does my son  know this was the first safety pin I ever put on his diaper : ) 

"The Book of Me" is not finished.  It is in constant revision.  Someday I hope it will make him smile and make things easier for him.  It is my responsibility as a parent.  It is yours too.  Change will happen to all of us.  Write "The Book of Me" while you can.  Make the decisions that you can.  If you don’t write them down, how will they know?