IT'S OFFICIAL--AMERICA IS GRAY!

Well everyone--May is senior citizen month so thought I'd gripe about being old and cranky. Don't worry--I'll get my mojo back soon!

IT’S OFFICIAL--AMERICA IS GRAY!

I’ve been hearing for years about the graying of America. I don’t know if the whole country is gray, but I know that I am. My husband and I used to go out dancing. A lot. Until one night we went into a disco, looked around, and got the distinct feeling we were at a high school prom. After that we confined our boogying to weddings where there were enough real adults to make us feel comfortable. (It’s a sad fact of life that by the time you no longer need a baby-sitter--you no longer need a baby-sitter!)

We shifted the focus of our leisure time to activities that our peers preferred. Dinner and a movie or show seemed to keep other people our age happy, but after we retired we had all those extra hours to fill. People always asked, “What do you do with your day?” Of course we had the standard retiree’s reply, “We’re busier than ever! The time just flies by.” The truth is, that guy Peter or Murphy or whoever it was that said ‘an activity expands to fill the time available’ was right on. A couple of loads of laundry that used to be done between dinner and the bed time story now takes up Wednesday. Food shopping is done daily instead of weekly and that novel I always wanted to write is coming along. The house isn’t any cleaner than when I worked (maybe less because I can’t justify a cleaning lady), but I have lots of time to cook those gourmet recipes that I always wanted to try. Can’t do it more than once a week though because of the acid reflux.

We have made friends with lots of other retirees and enjoy socializing with them. Always big on cocktail parties, we throw them fairly regularly, with a few modifications. No longer do our guests arrive at nine with the last departing sometimes as late as three am. Now the invite reads five pm and even the youngest and heartiest are gone by eight thirty. That’s ok with us because it means we have a half hour to unwind before bedtime.

These days instead of waiting until I look like a skunk I have a standing appointment at the beauty salon for a touch up and trim, a biweekly manicure and monthly pedicure. Dinner and a movie has turned into lunch and a matinee, comedies only please. Now that I have time to read the paper I find myself avoiding it because it depresses me. Cheery news doesn’t sell. Fortunately I don’t recognize most of the names in the obituary, yet. Stress never goes away. The things that used to cause stress have disappeared into the past. Now the worries are about things we never even thought about before. Health, investments, grandchildren.

We own a cabin on a lake in Northeastern Pennsylvania. We used to call it a weekend house, but it’s too far away to go for the weekend now. We go there three times a year for a couple of weeks but I can’t really call it a vacation home. If you’re retired what do you go on vacation from? Maybe I should call it our change of scenery home. January we go for a month so we can ski. The last two years it’s been just too cold to go out much. My husband gets cabin fever so he suggested a night out at one of the local resorts. I responded negatively because the local resorts are mostly for honeymooners and dinner isn’t until eight and the show doesn’t start until ten and the dancing, well there’s that prom thing again.

He assured me he had found a resort I would like. Their guests are multigenerational, dinner is at six and the show starts at eight. He promised we’d be home by ten fifteen. How could I refuse?

They weren’t kidding when they said dinner at six. We arrived at ten after and were the last party seated. My husband, who knows my concern about feeling out of place, patted my hand and grinned. I looked around and decided I loved the place. There were gray and balding heads as far as the eye could see. It looked like a reunion of the class of 1950. These people were old but not elderly. They were lively and vibrant. Not a wheelchair or cane in sight. The dancing was great. The music was familiar. It was like a wedding but better--something we thought we had lost was found. This resort obviously caters to people of a ‘certain age’. The most astonishing thing I saw was a plastic syringe disposal system in the ladies room. Even illness didn’t stop anyone from having fun and this resort covers any and all amenities.

When my children ask me how they will be able to afford the same comfortable retirement, I tell them to put their money into Clairol, Ben Gay and Viagra. Now-a-days life begins at sixty.