You know that moment when you feel as if you need a change? That moment when your life needs a little shake up? Maybe it’s time to move from sweet to salty snacks; or it’s time to reinstall the shag carpet you or a family member stored in the attic 50 years ago.
This happened to me about five years ago when I was in the early part of my mid-50s. Not only did my junk food preferences change, but I also realized that it was time to retire from teaching and move to my next adventure: I wanted to follow my dream and make art.
My retirement plan was to remain living in Greeley, CO where good friends and my heart-daughter live and inch my way towards creating “art” more consistently than I was able to do while teaching English to high school students.
Instead, my husband Tom was offered a job at Camp Widjiwagan (Widji) in March of this year. After visiting the camp and exploring Ely for a couple of days in February, we decided to take the frigid plunge in the, at that time, frozen lake. We accepted the offer and moved to this lovely town.
In accepting Widji’s job offer, we decided to go big and (ultimately) go home. This decision wasn’t made lightly; after decades of predictable rhythms, change of this magnitude feels exhilarating and intimidating.
Moving is a daunting decision, as I imagine you know. When I was young and moved away from home, relocating from Colorado to New Mexico, most of what I felt was excitement because I was ready to embark on a new journey, figuring out who I was away from the things I knew.
In my 50s, it is more complicated. I still feel that nomadic drive to make a change, yet before Tom and I moved, I regretted leaving behind the things I love in Greeley. My family, my friends, my lifestyle, our home, and particularly the backyard that my husband cultivated. (I helped, but I had input maybe five percent of the work.)
Underneath this resistance, I felt a spark of yearning, as I contemplated embarking on a new adventure, creating a new life in new surroundings, and meeting like-minded people. Thanks to the internet, I grew aware of all the wonderful opportunities that awaited me here.
To my glee, Ely has everything I can possibly want and need: a college that appears to double as a performing arts center, most excellent coffee shops (including a drive-thru!), a hospitable library, and the most important: Makers Morning, Ely Writing Group, and numerous nature trails where I see deer regularly, beavers when they deign to show themselves, and maybe one day, a bear or two.
As I settled into my new home, I vowed to take social risks, something new from Greeley where I tended to hibernate. And Ely Folk School turned out to be the perfect hub to encourage this change.
I found Ely Folk School to be a delicious treat: It is open-hearted, providing many excellent possibilities (such as the Thanksgiving potluck). On Thursday mornings I love heading there with my coffee from Sheridan Delicatessen to chat with lovely human beings while I pretend to work on an artistic project. Betsy, DJ, Isaac, Kay, John, Sherry, Cecilia, and the others have been incredibly welcoming.
When I first arrived, I felt their tight-knit relationships; still, they welcomed me with open arms. The last time we met, Isaac and DJ showed me a picture of a fox and her kits hanging out on the trunk of their red truck. I admit to oozing, “They are so adorable! It’s amazing you look out your window and see these beautiful creatures.”
And, well, I was pleased to discover a more than excellent vet clinic where everyone gushes over my most adorable cairn terrier mix and the doctor has a great leash-side manner (my dog loves him!)
But beyond these delightful details, what I’ve truly found in Ely is something far more profound: a reminder that change, even in our later years, isn’t just possible—it’s a vibrant, transformative journey.
The friendly faces who banter with this newbie in line at Zup’s, the waves from neighbors as I walk my dog along Sheridan and Camp are not just gestures of welcome. They’re invitations to reimagine what’s possible when daring to step beyond comfort zones.
