The odometer rolls over one more time
And so it arrives one day, not with trumpets blaring or sirens with flashing lights, but on silent cat's feet at 5am in the predawn darkness when Max slipped up on the bed and laid by my ear purring softly (I ignored him until 6am) - so, this is it, the final event horizon and the odometer rolls over one more time to register 66? - now, how the heck did this happen? Seems only yesterday I was 25, or maybe 30, there was a big party for my 30th, then came 40 and another big party, then the 50th and all the "over the hill" jokes and I don't think I remember 60, but I'm sure Chris did and - - - ok, maybe it is possible that I've been around the track 65 times going on the 66th, but who's counting (anymore)?
All things considered, it's not a problem, I'm looking out my window at a sunny morning in MX with 63 degrees, the birds are all singing, the Jacaranda trees continue to shed their blossoms on the purple carpet below them (and into the fountain and all over the decks). I still have most of my marbles, about as much hair as before even though it's gray now, but who cares.
Retirement or whatever this is has it's perks, for instance, you only need to shave about once a week, the suits, white shirts and ties are hanging under plastic covers in the closet, now it's just tee shirts and shorts so the clothes budget is minimal and laundry is a snooze. Then there's the comedy section in the paper called "Horoscope" it said something today about "you've been working hard, take the day off"? - ok, that's good for a laugh, so small things amuse.
Maybe these years are measured in what we don't have as compared to all the years we measured our progress in what we did have; cars, boat, house etc. Now, I don't have most of those things and now it's measured in what I don't have. Because I don't have the house so I don't have payments and the worry about it's value (especially these days). I don't have a big insurance bill either, here in MX having fire or flood insurance on the house would be silly, the houses are all concrete, brick and tile. It doesn't rain for 8 months so no chance of flood and even if it did, who cares? And fire? - right, the only wooden things in the house are the inside doors and when was the last time you heard of a door spontaneously combusting?
Of course I have a car, the Jeep, but it's tough and more a work horse than a show piece, so I don't have to worry about or wash it often. Except for Spanish lessons on Monday and calling Mom twice a week, I don't have any schedule to keep, only feed the cats, they get a bit testy when you forget.
It's also measured in the loved ones you don't have any more. As kids we're somewhat accustomed to loosing our grandparents, but now at this end of life we begin to loose loved ones, friends, spouses and relatives that were close to us for a lifetime and the lose is much greater.
The one thing we do continue to collect is "titles". Looking in the rear view mirror I have the usual titles, brother, father husband, manager, salesman, builder, and then it begins, grandfather and now next month it will be "great grandfather" - boy, didn't see that one coming.
All in all things at this end of life are pretty good, I have my health and sanity (although some would argue that one) and I have the memories of a life lived pretty much my way, what more could you ask? - oh, and we're going tomorrow to the south side of the lake to see them feed fish guts to the pelicans - what more could you ask, the memories just keep rolling in.
All things considered, it's not a problem, I'm looking out my window at a sunny morning in MX with 63 degrees, the birds are all singing, the Jacaranda trees continue to shed their blossoms on the purple carpet below them (and into the fountain and all over the decks). I still have most of my marbles, about as much hair as before even though it's gray now, but who cares.
Retirement or whatever this is has it's perks, for instance, you only need to shave about once a week, the suits, white shirts and ties are hanging under plastic covers in the closet, now it's just tee shirts and shorts so the clothes budget is minimal and laundry is a snooze. Then there's the comedy section in the paper called "Horoscope" it said something today about "you've been working hard, take the day off"? - ok, that's good for a laugh, so small things amuse.
Maybe these years are measured in what we don't have as compared to all the years we measured our progress in what we did have; cars, boat, house etc. Now, I don't have most of those things and now it's measured in what I don't have. Because I don't have the house so I don't have payments and the worry about it's value (especially these days). I don't have a big insurance bill either, here in MX having fire or flood insurance on the house would be silly, the houses are all concrete, brick and tile. It doesn't rain for 8 months so no chance of flood and even if it did, who cares? And fire? - right, the only wooden things in the house are the inside doors and when was the last time you heard of a door spontaneously combusting?
Of course I have a car, the Jeep, but it's tough and more a work horse than a show piece, so I don't have to worry about or wash it often. Except for Spanish lessons on Monday and calling Mom twice a week, I don't have any schedule to keep, only feed the cats, they get a bit testy when you forget.
It's also measured in the loved ones you don't have any more. As kids we're somewhat accustomed to loosing our grandparents, but now at this end of life we begin to loose loved ones, friends, spouses and relatives that were close to us for a lifetime and the lose is much greater.
The one thing we do continue to collect is "titles". Looking in the rear view mirror I have the usual titles, brother, father husband, manager, salesman, builder, and then it begins, grandfather and now next month it will be "great grandfather" - boy, didn't see that one coming.
All in all things at this end of life are pretty good, I have my health and sanity (although some would argue that one) and I have the memories of a life lived pretty much my way, what more could you ask? - oh, and we're going tomorrow to the south side of the lake to see them feed fish guts to the pelicans - what more could you ask, the memories just keep rolling in.
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