Featured Articles
The Adventurers — Born That Way
by Tammy Kennon
Liv Fun: Vol 3 – Issue 2
“Land ho!” I shouted. “There’s an island on the horizon!”
It was 1968, and I was 8 years old. To those outside my imagination, my sailboat looked like a willow tree and my ocean a bumpy stretch of Bermuda grass with a clothesline strung across it.
But in my fanciful head, I was not in landlocked New Mexico but on the vast blue sea, barking orders at my rapscallion crew. Every day was a new adventure, sailing on brisk sea breezes and exploring exotic landscapes.
These backyard play sessions were just symptoms of my adventurous spirit rearing up. My mother was constantly plucking me out of questionable predicaments, like when I was teetering on top of the upright piano at two years old or tumbling headfirst into a swimming pool when I was five.
And that sense of adventure was not something I outgrew. My territory just expanded. By my mid-30s, I had lived in eight states, visited 39 of them, and traveled to 11 countries — and that’s when I really upped the ante.
Those childhood imaginings were either prescient foreshadowing or dress rehearsals for the way my life played out some 40 years later. When I was 50, my husband and I sold all our possessions, our house, cars and wine shop and set off on a real sailboat, a rapscallion crew of two. Every day was a new adventure, sailing on brisk sea breezes and exploring exotic landscapes. Countless times in four years of sailing, we saw islands rise up on the horizon, more exhilarating than it had been from my willow tree cockpit, but without the reassurance of my mom’s PB&J sandwiches.
Liv Fun
by Leisure Care
Summer 2014
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The Adventurers — Born That Way?
by Tammy Kennon“Land ho!” I shouted. “There’s an island on the horizon!” It was 1968, and I was 8 years old. To those outside my imagination, my sailboat looked like a willow tree and my ocean a bumpy stretch of Bermuda grass with a clothesline strung across it.
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Love’s Just Full of Surprises
by Skye Moody
It’s a love adventure like no other, and it’s spelled D-I-V-O-R-C-E. After 30 years of marriage, Lynn and Matt Harlow decide to call it quits. To family and close friends, including me, the news drops like a mega-bomb, its devastation all the greater because Matt and Lynn Harlow have for decades represented the miracle of sustained romantic love, while all along they were keeping its dying embers a closely guarded secret.
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56 Sunsets – Surrendering to a Place and a Time of Solitude
by Carol Pearson
It wasn’t the first time I’d been alone. Officially and recently divorced, I was single and solo after 24 years of being married to my senior prom date. And I was about to spend two entire months in an 800-square-foot cottage on the Gulf of Mexico, just steps from the ocean on a little spit of sand called Cape San Blas.