Getting Older

Well, I have passed another milestone.  

I arrived at age 75 the other day.  Achieved didn't seem to be the right word, since achievement is commonly defined as "a goal being reached by effort, skill or courage."  In my case, I kind of snuck-up on it, by merely surviving.  

I did not plan to live this long.  Life expectancy for my cohort --males born in 1942 -- was age 68.  My dad died at age 64, and none of his three brothers lived past age 65.  So I went through middle-age believing that Noonan men could count themselves lucky to enjoy a year or two of retirement.

That's why I took early retirement (ie started collecting Social Security) at age 62.

But here is the thing about life expectancy: From birth, the actuaries have to factor-in the average rate of demise for those who will succumb to accidents, war, disaster, infectious disease and other threats to life.  Assuming you don't wrap the family car around  a tree on prom night or drown in the lake, there is a raft of fatal diseases that strike during young adulthood and middle age years.  But if you survive until age 65, there is a new calculation. Suddenly, you get a reprieve of another 18 years.  Now, the new life expectancy age for my cohort is 83.

Eighty-three seems old to me.   My new goal is trying to achieve that age.  This time, it will be a deliberate objective; I will not sneak-up on it, I will arrive on a band wagon drawn by a team of six Clydesdale.   Well, you get the idea -- I will apply effort, skill and courage to get there.

I think it will take a lot of effort to stay upright, to keep moving and be as flexible as possible.  Gravity is an enemy of age, it keeps trying to pull us down.  I plan to reduce my body mass significantly to lessen gravity's effects on knees and joints.  

It will take skill as well; the brain wants to shrink, to erase memories, to shut down -- just when we need it the most.  We can't let that happen.  We must encourage our own curiosity, caring,  and social interaction just when it is easier to sit in front of the TV like zombies watching  Jeopardy, The Kardashians or NCIS.    We need to keep reading, doing crosswords, challenging mental acuity by debating those who disagree with us.  

It will take courage -  I like the definition: "Strength in the face of pain or grief."   We need to keep a perspective on ourselves and the world, recognize those emotional triggers and fears which are the meat of media "news".  We need to stay positive,  and to stay funny.  A sense of humor is indispensable.   

Frankly, I have given-up on questions like "Why are we here?"  "Is there an afterlife?"  I  can accept that my life may have no more meaning than a crow's. 
Just the same, both the crow and I want to stay alive as long as possible.

Labored Thoughts

Some of the newcomers to this blog may have been misled by the use of the term "afterlife" in the blog description.  If you thought I was talking about some spiritual or cosmic afterlife, I apologize (- - for your poor reading skills.  Really, you must learn to read more carefully.)

No, afterlife, in this context, refers to that phase of life between the time you surrender the responsibilities and commitment to The Job, The Career, the Kids, the Unfinished Novel and your untimely death.   Unlike the promised heaven or hell that your preachers have guaranteed to be the reward for your behavior in this life, this blog uses the term to allude to the shadowy existence of people (such as I)  who have retired from the hustle and bustle of everyday commerce, the classroom or even  the mind-shredding boredom of a career spend nuzzling the teat of the government.

Retirement and Heaven may seem to be synonymous for many working stiffs, as they fantasize about the Rewards that surely must await those who have patiently endured the slings and arrows of the average job. The gauzy image of that much anticipated state of Nirvana may populate the daydreams of countless oppressed and misused worker bees as they toil under the debt-fueled fear of losing this crappy job ( -- undoubtedly made even crappier by some micromanaging nitpicker.)
In the work-a-day world, time is money; you are typically paid commensurate with the amount of time you spend in the office.  You get accustomed to the idea that someone values your time.  However, as you settle into the afterlife, you gradually realize that your time has zero value to others.  No one pays you for reading the newspapers while dawdling over a leisurely breakfast.  There is no bonus for biggest fish.  Your below- par performance at the links may actually require you to buy the beers for the other duffers.  No one calls from the office disturbing you at inconvenient moments with career threatening emergencies. 

Work is largely regarded by American society as a no-fault excuse to avoid social and familial obligations.  ("Gee I'd love to go over and see the 300 photos of your niece's baby shower, but, well I am just slammed here at the office.  Maybe another time...")  But, now that you do not have work as a refuge, you are assailed by family and friends who need a favor or a spouse who demands that you accompany them on errands.

So, young retiree wanabees, I am afraid I must give it to you straight on this Labor Day.  You load sixteen tons, and what do you get?  Another day older and deeper in debt. Then you retire and spend most of the time checking your retirement nest egg, wondering when the shitty economy is going to start being over.  And, hoping that the government can stay solvent and keep sending you that anticipated SS check.

Instead of  enjoying your free time with  travel, fishing and playing golf, you spend a third of your week at the doctors office getting looked at, prodded and listened to.  The exams become ever so much more intimate each year.  Or if it is not your ass that the doc has his finger up, you are driving someone else to his-or-her appointment.  (No one hesitates to ask you for a ride, since you are retired and probably have nothing better to do.)