The best adventure I've had this Christmas season is the one I've only just begun: retirement. After thirty-three years working for a local municipality (which shall remain nameless), I'm turning the page and starting a new chapter in life.

Shorty Saves Christmas:

(One of my many nicknames, this one is not just about my stature, but also refers to the locally well-known mascot of a (now long-gone) home improvement chain where I used to work.)

For much of the last three decades, I've been the head groundskeeper at the Civic Center, and as such have overseen the annual Christmas tree lighting, in early December. The process usually starts by the end of October or early November, unpacking and testing the lights (over a hundred strands), and taking inventory of the decorations and supplies. Over the next month, we'll decorate the light poles around Civic Center with ribbons and bows, run lights up the trunks of palm trees, and use a cherry-picker-style boom truck to put lights and ornaments on the city Christmas tree, a fifty-foot-tall California redwood.

In their native habitat, a few hundred miles north, redwoods are the world's tallest living things and can live a couple of thousand years, but down here in Southern California, they are not really suited to our drier environment, and are susceptible to disease. Ours, like many nearby, has been fighting off the fungal disease botryosphaeria for the last ten years, going through alternate cycles of decline and recovery. It's really just a matter of time before the tree will have to come down. (Hint: if you want to "save the redwoods," don't plant 'em south of Monterey County.)

Usually, I don't go to the lighting ceremony myself, having worked hard all month, and especially in the final last days; I'd rather just go home and relax than stay an extra hour or two to watch the lighting, although I have done it a couple of times. This year though, being my last, was more special, like giving myself a special send-off, so I had my wife meet me at work and we went to the ceremony together.

It started with some speeches by the mayor and the Public Works director, the usual political thank-yous to all who made this possible, etc. (I always joke: where else can being a gardener be political?) Then the musical program kicked in, featuring some very talented instrumental and singing groups from the local high school and elementary schools. This year's theme seemed to be big-band jazz, so it was like Christmas with Glenn Miller. Different and quite cool, actually.

Then the mayor announced the tree lighting. Everyone stood up, but instead of walking over to the tree as usual, I heard the mayor starting a countdown.

"Five, four, three . . ."

My stomach dropped as I realized what he thought was happening. Where did that remote control come from? That wasn't part of the plan. It's true, a remote was used a few times, many years ago, but not in recent memory. I said a quick prayer that the electricians had wired the tree for a remote at the last minute and hadn't told me.

". . . Two, one." The mayor pressed the button . . . and . . .

Nothing.

"Well, that was sure a dud."

People started milling around and a few began walking away.

Wait a minute, my last Christmas lighting can't be spoiled. Not with my wife here. I quickly realized that I was the only one there who knew what to do. I ran over to the master switch, the one the mayor was supposed to have flipped, and flicked it on.

"Oh, there it goes," said the mayor, as if it had just been a delayed reaction with the mystery remote.

Walking back to rejoin my wife, there were the Director, Assistant Director and Building Maintenance Superintendent standing right there, all beaming with big smiles of relief on their faces and hands reaching out to shake mine with words of thanks.

At the moment, I certainly did not feel like a hero. I just wished I could have had the foresight to have done it thirty seconds earlier.

The next big adventure:

It's been a great, memorable, interesting thirty-three years. A lot has changed over the years, but in many ways, the feeling is still the same. I'm leaving with nothing but good memories. How many jobs can you say that about?

This year, between the tree lighting, holiday hustle and bustle on the home front, and getting ready for retirement, the last few weeks have been a caffeine-and-adrenaline-fueled, multitasking, mad dash to the finish line. And I'm a low-key kind of guy, who would rather just fade into the sunset than go out with a bang, but being made-over at the company Christmas barbeque, and receiving some really nice parting gifts and a lot of great comments really did make me feel special. I received the Key to the City and a custom street sign saying "Wallin Lane," courtesy of the Sign Shop.

A lot of great people have come and gone over the years, some of which are no longer in this world, and some of those were not even lucky enough to have made it this far, to retirement. At my age, I've known both triumph and tragedy, and have lost family, friends and co-workers.

But, now is not the time to dwell on the grief I've endured. Now is the time to rejoice and be glad, for Christmas, and retirement, is a time of new beginnings. The lessons learned are to stay healthy, stay happy, and stay active. Take time to appreciate the little, precious things in life. And never, ever, take life for granted.

Now is the time for traveling, to visit out-of-state family, and to explore corners of our country that I've never seen. To catch up on backyard projects and home improvement (when have I ever looked forward to painting a bedroom?) To get back into hobbies: writing, of course, but also artwork and crafts. I might actually pick up that guitar that's been collecting dust and re-learn the same couple of dozen simple chords that I used to plunk around with.

And now is the time to seek out renewed life, new experiences, and new adventures . . . to boldly go where I've never gone before . . .