Am I really obsessed by it or just more aware of it? I really don’t know. For one, I know that I am getting slower. When I walk what I consider a decent pace, I get passed by folks and I rarely pass people. Yes, my knees are not in the best of shape, but that is probably also age related. I am faster than my brother-in-law who is a year older than I am, but he had a hip replacement. I am faster than my 95 year old father-in-law, surprise. We always joke that it is essential that you only need to be faster than the grim reaper, well I have this feeling our top speeds are slowly getting closer.
The other reason probably is that there isn’t a day that I am not reminded about retiring. We either talk about it at home (most of the time it is the topic de-jour), or someone asks me about it (when are you retiring, or aren’t you retired yet?) or tells me about their retirement. It is tough to think you are at the end of your career and feel you are slowly being sidelined, put on a dead-end track. While they tell you that they still value your contribution when you volunteer, they seem to pass you over when it comes to career choices.
Getting old comes with something else, something my wife pointed out, to my chagrin. She told me the other day that in addition to getting old: “You are no debonair!” Man that bugged the hell out of me! Not that desperately want to be super suave and well-groomed, but inside I sometimes feel like I am somewhat sophisticated, just a little bit. Can old men still be suave without looking creepy?
In the old days, I needed to be well dressed, groomed and wear formal clothes and a tie to work. This is not required working for the state; I have put in my dues, and the worst thing that could happen is that they could fire me for not following the dress-code, early retirement at 68!
Actually, my preference right now would be to retire and buy a piece of land of 10 to 20 acres. I would love to restore it to its pre-historic or pre-settlement condition. However, I would like to have an acre of two somewhere on that property to have a homestead. Of course there would be walking trails and the homestead would need to be as sustainable as possible, hopefully off the grid. I would not look like a debonair but more like a (old) rugged (unshaven) woodsman. I could even be a nudist on that property (weather permitting). I would still like to be able to care for my bonsai, have my wine cellar and a good beer collection.
A man can dream can’t he? But for one, the funds are lacking. What will come from all this? I have no idea, all I know is that I am getting a haircut tomorrow to look a little more civilized (debonair like?).
By the way, today’s writing kind of reminds me of the tune by Jethro Tull: Too Old to Rock ‘n’ Roll: Too Young to Die. Part of the Lyrics go like this:
The old Rocker wore his hair too long,
wore his trouser cuffs too tight.
Unfashionable to the end --- drank his ale too light.
Death's head belt buckle --- yesterday's dreams ---
the transport caf' prophet of doom.
Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams
in his post-war-babe gloom.
….
So the old Rocker gets out his bike
to make a ton before he takes his leave.
Up on the A1 by Scotch Corner
just like it used to be.
And as he flies --- tears in his eyes ---
his wind-whipped words echo the final take
and he hits the trunk road doing around 120
with no room left to brake.
And he was too old to Rock'n'Roll but he was too young to die.
No, you're never too old to Rock'n'Roll if you're too young to die.
Don’t worry, I am far from being depressed. I love life and still have fun. But a man can think sometimes: “am I too old to rock ‘n’ roll?” Nah! I am definitely too young to die!
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| Walking along the abandoned road in the woods behind our home. I do not need to be worried about being passed by other walkers. Not many folks use these trails and here I am "forest bathing." These are my meditative walk with Jasper, my hound; taking up the sights, sounds and smells of nature that sustain me. |
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