It's Coming!!!!

 It's almost here. About seven working weeks to go. Retirement. The change that, by society's estimation, is the last big change of life. I see it as the next third of our lives. True, it's the last third, but we won't go there just yet. The issue right now is, how do we make our twenties' (o.k., maybe thirties' or even forties') state of mind shine through our sixties' kind of bodies? We have about forty years (80, if you combined them) of adulthood; figuring out daily what to do, what to say, how to act, what to think, and which, of a hundred co-existing problems, to solve next. Through it all, there was work. Work that sustained our living, challenged our sanity, frustrated our independence, gave us a refuge, created our social connections and occasionally, just occasionally, gave us a sense of who we were and what we could contribute to the world at large.

Now, we are leaving work behind. That's exciting, scary, perplexing, worrisome, relieving, and everything else I can think of, rolled up into one pulsating mass of the unknown. And that is exactly what makes it wonderful. To help us through this process, I have created (well, filled in the blanks of) this website. I hope to have a link (once I figure out how to do it) to a blog where I (we) can make running notes of our adventures, states of mind, and general observations of the world as seen through the eyes of us retirement renegades; we, who have lost our religion of work, we, who have given up the cause of defining our selves by the type of work we do, and we, who are willing to face each day as a brand new adventure, the adventure of becoming an old person.

Disclaimer: Having never been an old person before and having always been a dyslexic, there will be times when my narratives will seem nonsensical and incoherent. Before jumping to the conclusion that I (we) have become dotty, crazy or near death, consider the possibility that it might be late and I (we) am (are) tired, or I haven't got my glasses on, or I have forgotten, mixed or overtaken my medications, or that we have been kidnapped and are being held ransom for our meager pension checks. If all that does not apply, check for a pulse.

So...., here we go, off to visit (yes, just visit) Old People Land. Since everyone is saying that 60 is the new 40 and 70 is the new 50, I am not sure I know where Old People Land is. My 65 year old friend, who just spent a week learning to build a tree house and did some of that building suspended from a line fifty-seven feet in the air, and who is probably not a resident of Old People Land, will be of no help. But, be assured, I'll know it when I see it and I will keep you posted.