Friday the 13th......The Final Chapter : Fin

Our two-year story of Living Life Riverside is a classic comic-tragedy; the last seven installments of this blog detailed the tragic side of the story. Yet, I reported this side of the story at the end of the ordeal, in retrospect, after the building burned down and all that was left was to sift through the ashes (metaphorically speaking). Truth be known, beyond the dread, the vomit and the immediate buyer’s remorse, my first experiences of The Riverside were filled with hope and excitement. If you were to go back and read this blog from the beginning, you’d find that I was reporting our life from a state of awe and wonderment; always at the ready for what great things awaited us – no hint in my writing or mood of despair or failure. While I knew at the start that this was going to be an uphill climb, with a potential quick slide into financial hell were we unable to reach the apex, I had no choice but to cheerfully continue that climb. I had terrific experiences with people that still bring tears to my eyes; once in a lifetime experiences that continually reminded us why we chucked it all to risk everything and do what we did. Those memories will always be there for me, and they will one day hopefully overwhelm the reality of the financial ugliness.

I’m often asked if I have regrets.

Knowing what I know now???

Hell yes!! I have regrets. There isn’t one thing about this experience I don’t regret. Daily! Hourly!

“Well”, people say, “you can check that off your bucket list.”

Dear God, if only I could do it over and have it eternally on my bucket list. The pain of wishing you could do it and not having done it has to be miniscule in comparison to the pain of having actually done it and having that experience bludgeon you to death.

I beg of you, please consult with me if owning a bar, restaurant or B&B is on your bucket list.

Many have lauded us for simply trying. While I truly appreciate the lauding, the folks at WalMart don’t yet accept lauds in lieu of cash when purchasing Cheetos and Little Debbie Nutty Bars. The truth be known, I wish I was being lauded for showing restraint and sticking with the dull but ‘sure thing’ corporate gig. While I wouldn’t have the memories of charming Hot Sulphur Springs, $750/month water bills and all of the wonderful people we met the past two years (“Yuk! Clean it up!”, “Dog attack at the Riverside!”), I would instead have memories of fabulous meals in Paris, quaffing fine wines in Verona and most importantly, memories of quarterly meetings with my financial advisor.

But alas, I opted for that bucket list thing. And I blame nothing, or no one, but myself.

I do know that we bought an old hotel, an icon in the area and an important slice of history in Grand County, and for two years, we made it a warm and shining place in a cold, desolate outpost. We welcomed strangers who left as friends. We entertained guests from all over the world who hugged us as family when they departed. I truly believe that we brought new life to a dying town and county, if only for a short while.

While there were many wonderful guests and moments, there was a particular guest and moment that still makes me think that our adventure wasn’t a total failure. A delightful German couple stopped in one summer afternoon looking for a room for the evening; they ended up staying with us for four nights. The husband played first chair French horn with the Frankfurt Symphony Orchestra - a gentle man of class, culture and great elegance; he’d traveled throughout the world as a professional musician, and was in the midst of a month long ramble throughout the United States as a prelude to a two year resident teaching position in China. During their last evening with us, while dining in the restaurant, I stopped by the table to ask about their dinner. The man’s eyes were closed and his hands were clasped, as if he was praying, but the meal was over. He looked up at me and said “Everything is perfect. The beer and the food were wonderful, this room is wonderful, and you are playing Schumann’s Fourth Symphony. I can’t believe I am here in this place listening to Schumann. This is Allesklarbeidir. I know you’re not familiar with that word, but it is a German word that is even hard for me to explain the meaning, because I don’t know of the English word that exists to describe the meaning of the word, but I will try. I think a literal translation in English is the word ‘adore’, but you would never use this word to say you adore something in the German language, as it goes far beyond adoring something. And this is not a word that is used lightly, as very seldom do you experience the feeling of Allesklarbeidir. It describes an internal feeling that you have of total comfort and wellness, a feeling you have when you are wholly in love and at peace with all of your surroundings. It is a warm feeling, a feeling of quiet joy. I have that feeling, now, in this place of yours’.”

At that moment, the feeling was mutual.

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After I assume room temperature and should my life ever be examined by someone other than creditors, I’m hoping that it will be discussed by close friends at a nice bar; one that pours a good drink, as we did at The Riverside. I’m certain that after the cussing and discussing, all will agree that if I did nothing else, my greatest accomplishment in this life was that my follies were occasionally capable of inducing a feeling of Allesklarbeidir and my failures did well to serve as a warning to others.

I am at peace with my fuck-up.

It ain’t cancer.

May God continue to bless us all……