MY WIFE RETIRED, AND I’M GETTING OLD
By Jack Kean
My wife noticed me
sitting on the couch and
asked what I was doing.
Without a moment’s
hesitation I responded,
“Nothing.”
She said, “You did that
yesterday.”
I smiled and replied,
“True, but I haven’t
finished.”
And then the fight
started.
Much later, as I scrolled
through a hundred or
so channels (ever told
your grandkids how you
changed channels in the
old days and have them
look at you like you
had lost your mind?),
one movie caught my
attention: Two Tickets to
Paradise. The tag line
said it is a movie about
three middle-aged men
who make a road trip to
relive their youth.
Boy, are they in for a
letdown. Nothing says
youth like arthritis,
gray hair and frequent
bathroom stops. Besides,
I’m not sure you can
relive anything, unless a recurring nightmare
about high school
English class and a lack
of clothing counts.
But of course, I
digress. When my wife
said she would be retiring
right along with me, I
really didn’t take her
seriously. That was my
mistake. Who knew you
could retire from being
a homemaker? Now,
after vacuuming and
dusting, if I want to eat
at home without dialing
the pizza man, I cook
at home. This often
means breaking out my
cookbook, A Man, A
Can, A Plan. We “share”
household duties. My
vision of retirement
never included keeping
the toilet bowl looking
like it just had a new wax
job, but I’m guessing
nobody’s does.
My wife, and I suspect
the wives of countless
others, no longer asks
“what” I would like
to eat. She now asks
“where” I would like
to eat. This change fits nicely into her retirement
plan. Do you remember
back in the day when
people ate at home or
on special occasions at a
relative’s house?
The aforementioned
movie about old men
trying to recapture their
youth, plus the coming
end of 2009, reminded
me of several important
questions you might
answer for me. When
does middle age begin
and possibly more
importantly, when does it
end? Do you think there’s
any chance I’ll live to
be 126 years old? Me
neither, but unless I do,
I’m way passed middle
age. Middle age is when
you choose your cereal
for the fiber, not the toy.
Then there is the
baffling concept of
old. The question that
truly reveals your age is:
how old are the people
you call old? Think
about that for a second
or two. When I was
a teenager, forty was
definitely old. When I
turned forty, you had to be sixty to be old. Now
that I’m in my sixties,
I’m pretty sure you don’t
really get old until eighty
or thereabouts. Growing
old is mandatory;
growing up is optional.
A few facts that make
me feel better about
my age: at 73, Ronald
Reagan was elected to his
second term as President
of the United States;
at 75, Nelson Mandela
became President of
South Africa; at 76,
arthritis forced Grandma
Moses to give up
embroidery for painting;
at 77, Winston Churchill
became Prime Minister
for the second time.
Wisdom comes with age,
but sometimes age comes
alone.
Have a great holiday
season and a wonderful
new year. Do you think
I’ll cook a turkey or
order a ham? Oh well,
no matter our age, let’s
enjoy every day. It’s
frustrating when you
know all the answers, but
nobody bothers to ask
you the questions.
Jack Kean is
the author of three novels: Being From The South Doesn't Make Me Stupid, Deadly
Sacrifice, and What If The Winner Dies? Prior to retirement, he was employed in
law enforcement on the federal level. He is a graduate of the University of
Mississippi School of Law in Oxford. Jack is a native Mississippian, but he
currently lives in Alabama, having moved there from Woodstock, Ga.
You may contact Jack and read
more of his writing at http://www.keanwriter.com.
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