The Waiting List

It didn’t take long for the secret to get out. Tal and his mother were the first friend visitors of ours to visit Awanabatch but word spread fast. Thurston and his family own an amazing, one-of-a-kind property on Lake Superior in Canada.

Hints became commonplace at get-togethers—some subtle and some not so subtle. Adding one more thing for me to stress over: keeping peace among the ranks.

It’s not just about managing the growing list of people who would love to come up; it’s also about working around the family’s shared calendar. You can’t simply call your friends and ask, “What week works for you?”

(Thanks Clipart Library for the image)

With nine owners, we drew numbers to determine who got first choice of dates. As luck would have it, we drew number seven, meaning six others chose their weeks before us. By the time our turn comes around, most of the peak weather weeks are gone.

You get what you get and hope for the best. Two things you can’t depend on are the fish and the weather. The guys hope the fish are biting, while the ladies hope for some sun. I prefer it to be hot enough to get in the water. Even in August, we can’t guarantee a week of fun in the sun; it might be summer in Michigan and early fall in Batchawana.

If you invite X, then you must invite Y and Z. You don’t want to invite two alphas at the same time, nor do you want too many planners in the same group. I find myself thinking through the dynamics and second-guessing who will get along with whom. You know—the self-appointed activity director in me kicking in.

While many people think they want to come, I know some of them wouldn’t really enjoy the slow pace, the critters or the lack of modern conveniences like Wi-Fi, television and stores within minutes. This isn’t an all-inclusive resort. On the flip side, some haven’t been invited because we’re afraid; they might like it so much they wouldn’t want to leave!

Several people have been invited, but the timing didn’t work out. You can hear the fear in their voices when they decline, worried that they’ll never be given another opportunity.

Some friends have gone to extraordinary lengths to earn an invitation, including donating an entire kitchen and then coming to Awanabatch to help install it. Sadly, they are so busy that they haven’t been able to return. Some have already earned return invitations, while others are still waiting for their first visit. Who would have thought that being blessed with so many good friends could be a curse?

Back in the day, Thurston and all his cousins would pile into one room and sleep on any surface available – chaise lounges, couches or the floor. Now we expect everyone to have their own bed, preferably nothing smaller than a queen-size bed.

Recently, we invited a carefully selected group of friends, and I realized that at least one of the couples would need to stay in the upstairs bedroom of the old cabin. Having not grown up sleeping there, I don’t have fond memories of staying up all night catching up with my cousins. I find it just plain creepy.

Not to mention that the last time we assigned someone to the upstairs bedroom, they came to us the next morning wondering if there was anywhere else they could sleep for the rest of the weekend. It seems the bed had developed such a deep sag in the middle that it was impossible for two people not to roll together. Add a small dog to the mix, and you have a recipe for disaster.

Thurston loves making everyone breakfast

To avoid a repeat of that, our last-minute solution was to hook up the camper and bring it with us. It solved our sleeping problem – while creating an entirely different problem before we ever reached Awanabatch. But that’s a story of its own.

Provided you make it onto the list and through the border crossing, we have very few rules—other than enjoying yourself. You will, however, be expected to contribute something to the bar: a fifth of liquor or a case of your preferred beverage, whether you drink or not. Alcohol is not readily available up there, and it comes at a high price. (Even higher when there’s seizure and penalties involved!)

I create a spreadsheet outlining the meal plan, and everyone brings their assigned food—along with enough extra to feed us for another week if we get stranded. Everyone is overly generous with their contributions of food and drink, sometimes to a fault, since taking most of it back across the border is a no-no.

While Thurston and I enjoy inviting people back, there’s something special about first timers. We love watching their reactions to the property, introducing them to our traditions and listening as Thurston shares the history of Awanabatch. Our goal is always to leave them wanting to return—even though the waiting list for a second visit is long.

As much as we enjoy sharing Awanabatch, we’ve discovered that we like it best when it’s just the two of us. I’m happy to wear my hostess hat for most of the week, but I need at least a couple of days simply to be there.

So, who will make next year’s invitation list? I’m thinking I may need another spreadsheet – perhaps with separate columns for Invited, Invited Back and Still Waiting.

The views were amazing from the camper dinette.

Retirement Time

Little did I know that agreeing on a schedule with another retiree could require the same level of negotiation as balancing the national budget.

Ask anyone over sixty. Sleep is more elusive than ever, and men and women seem to operate on completely different time zones.

We just returned from a trip to the family property in Canada. While there, we were trying to coordinate a visit with friends.

“We could stop over for coffee in the morning,” Thurston suggested.

“Any time after six,” our friend replied.

His wife gave me a deer-in-the-headlights look and countered with, “What about ten?”

I’m with her. Even if I’m awake by then, why would I want to be dressed and socializing at six o’clock in the morning?

Maybe after lunch would be better? Then we had to compare nap schedules.

Retirement doesn’t eliminate scheduling conflicts. It just replaces meetings, school events and soccer practices with morning coffee, meals and naps.

Half the time, I feel like I’ve just gotten to sleep when Thurston flips on the hall light for his first bathroom call. Mine isn’t until around 4 a.m. Just as I drift back to sleep, Thurston gets a text from his brother — another up-before-dawn and asleep-by-eight kind of guy.

The Do Not Disturb feature is now permanently enabled on Thurston’s phone.

On days when you can’t get back to sleep, you tend to want an early start on your to-do list. The other morning, Thurston was frustrated because his call went straight to voicemail.

“Why aren’t they answering their phone?”

I gently reminded him that while it was a weekday, the business didn’t open for another two hours.

It’s nothing for Thurston to be ready for bed before 9 p.m.The problem is when it’s not even dark yet.  Last night I convinced him to stay up until 10 p.m., which in retirement time is apparently the equivalent of pulling an all-nighter. It wasn’t a text message that woke me up at 5:30 the next morning. It was a pesky mosquito. I fought off getting up until 6:30.

I like to give Thurston plenty of time to get the coffee ready.

After all, everyone likes to have purpose. Some of us just prefer to discover ours after sunrise.

We’re all aging.
Let’s do it out loud.

— Nora

*As published in The County Journal on June 20, 2026

Welcome to My Latest Adventure!

Aging Out Loud

By Nora Fields

My first attempt at writing for a public audience was restaurant reviews for a small-town newspaper. It gave my husband and me an excuse to try new places each month — until I bought a deli and catering business and added “entrepreneur” to my already full plate. My children were grown; but I still had a full-time job as a lender, so writing slipped to the back burner.  

While I’ve never relied on writing to make my living, millions of dollars changed hands because of it during my twenty-six years as an agricultural loan officer. Whether it was a farm, cows or shiny piece of equipment, I had to tell a convincing story to secure financing. Many times, their livelihood depended on my ability to get their loan approved. I didn’t realize how much I loved writing until I retired and that outlet disappeared.

Why did I retire from a job I loved? Life is rarely ever that simple. When I suddenly found myself trying to juggle a full-time job, a business that demanded my attention 7 days a week, and the love of my life was diagnosed with a life-threatening illness, something had to give. 

I retired on a Friday and on Monday we moved into a suite at the University of Michigan Bone Marrow Transplant Center. Far from the Ritz Carlton, it was there that I spent over forty days and nights on an uncomfortable little daybed while doctors worked to save my husband’s life. Rather than internalize my fears, I was able to pour them onto paper. It became the way to update friends and family during our nearly one hundred days without visitors. What began as notes grew into a blog that kept me sane and connected.   

Fast forward three years and we are embarking on another new stage of our lives.  My husband is doing very well. It’s not the life we envisioned twelve years ago, but it’s still a good one. We just moved to a new community where we can easily spend time with our growing young family and the friends that have got us through the past three years. 

I’ve had my hands full dealing with a “new man” and all the medical paperwork that goes with a life-altering illness. Now that he’s out of the woods, I would like to share my life experiences and observations with you as we navigate retirement. I promise honesty, perspective, and a little humor – because growing older isn’t for the faint of heart. 

We’re all aging.

Let’s do it out loud. 

Nora

As Published in the March 14th Edition of The County Journal, Charlotte, MI.

Spring Brings Daffodils and New Beginnings…


I’ve been gone — but I haven’t forgotten about my readers and I haven’t given up on writing.

A lot has happened since my last blog post in September of 2024. We added four more grandchildren to love on and sold the home my husband built on the family farm. We moved north an hour to be closer to friends, our children and the growing bevy of grands. We’re rekindling old friendships and making new ones. Remodeling our new-used home, and most recently, enjoyed a month in Florida with time in Tennessee on the way there and back.

Fun Fact: Did you know that spring flowers such as daffodils and crocuses represent new beginnings or rebirth?

For me, this spring includes new beginnings with my writing. I’ve started writing for a local newspaper. It’s a different kind of writing for me. A little less personal, a little more reflective, and (hopefully) something that resonates beyond just our immediate circle. I don’t expect to become the next Ann Landers, but a girl can dream.

This is also a good time to report that the new Scott, lovingly referred to as Scott 2.0, is a lot more impulsive than the original version. For those that don’t follow us on Facebook, he is doing very well since his transplant. I won’t lie; it’s been a long and grueling ride since his BMT transplant in August of 2022. He’s very close to being off all the medications associated to it and by looking at him you would never know he was once so sick. He’s put weight back on, so much so that his mother lovingly tells him he is getting fat. He’s far from being fat; but whatever you call it, he looks much better than the stick figure he became while he was battling Myelofibrosis.

On our way to Florida, we decided — somewhat suddenly — that we needed a Can-Am Spyder. With the help of an old friend, one was located in Tennessee and paid for that on the way home from Florida. Once we get it home and gear up with matching helmets, we have plenty of ideas for adding that to our already busy retirement schedule. I’m sure some people think we’re a little crazy, but when you’ve lived through what we have, your perspective shifts. We’ll let the financial advisor decide if it was a mistake.

As for this space…

I’m not walking away from it — but I am changing how I show up.

Going forward, this blog will be a little less about the day-to-day details and a little more about the stories and reflections behind them. You’ll still see glimpses of our life — just with a bit more distance. Think of it as the difference between living it in real time and looking back on it with a little perspective.

Additionally, from here on out, rather than following our lives, you’ll hear about the adventures of Nora and Thurston Fields.

Pool time has come to an end and it’s back to real life in our new location. Stay tuned! I’ll be sharing my first published column soon, and I hope you’ll stick with Nora (me) as this next chapter unfolds.