The author John Comer heard this from a friend who heard it from his mentor: “The best decade of your life will be your seventies, the second best will be your eighties, and the third will be your sixties.”
Our Bible study group leader asked what we thought. For once I was speechless. I needed some time to think about it.
My ’50s were pretty good. I was newly retired and capable of accomplishing almost anything I wanted. I took on the Buckeye Trail in Ohio, over 1,440 miles long. I started a sole proprietorship landscaping business. And I even had the time and energy to volunteer for a few organizations I was passionate about.
My typical day now at 76 starts—thankfully—by waking up. I used to set the alarm for 5 a.m. Now, three out of every four days I don’t even set it. You’d probably laugh if I told you when I climb out of the sack these days.
I brew some half-caff. (I go easy at first because I’m already half awake.) I try to spend time with God every morning. I know now that missing a day won’t “cost me points.” But staying in the Bible has been my key to aging gracefully.
Some mornings I drive over to McDonald’s. I’m “That guy” going the speed limit, often with two or three cars close behind. That’s OK because I don’t miss those little chats I used to have with the neighborhood police officers.
One morning recently someone pulled out in front of me. Phew! I was glad the old reflexes still work. I slowed down in time. Thankfully, the line of cars behind me did too. I didn’t stay upset long, though. Maybe it was the grace verses I had read earlier. Or just my attention span getting shorter.
At McDonald’s I often pass the table where the Romeo (really old men eating out) crowd gathers. Like me, they are senior citizens. Do they feel second-class like I do occasionally? If so, they hide their feelings well. They smile and joke. Must be all the caffeine and carbs.
At the counter, I get greeted with, “May I take your order, Sweetie?” or Honey, or even an occasional Darling. One day a young lady called me Buttercup! Who needs all this attention? But she smiled and I smiled back when she gave me my senior coffee and McSandwich, and still another affectionate-sounding moniker.
It reminds me of the extra attention I get now when I volunteer. Extra breaks, water, and encouragement. Maybe even a “Honey.” It used to bother me a little, but I’m getting over it. Really, what’s not to like?
There is usually no hurry to get home, so I may grab a table and do some writing. Maybe even a blog article. I have more free time now, so I’ve got to do something worthwhile (if that’s what you call articles like this).
On my way home, I pass the park where I often take a stroll. One day I needed a rest, so I sat down for a short break. Two young squirrels were chasing each other. I spent five to ten minutes just staring in amazement at the nimbleness of creatures that can run straight down a tree trunk at full speed. I needed to get up and go do something important, but then a doe and her fawn came over the hilltop. I felt a tinge of guilt spending another five to ten enjoying their playful interaction. But I’m getting over it.
When I get home, I may do a little yardwork. There are always fresh weeds to pull out front. Sometimes the grass gets a little high and I wonder what the neighbors will think. But if I wait until the next day, I’ll probably be more in the mood. It will get mowed sometime, and I have to say it usually doesn’t look too bad.
My lovely wife greets me when I walk into the house. After that I might head to the basement to do a little cleaning I’ve been thinking about. Or maybe not. A 20-minute power nap may be in order.
At lunchtime I enjoy my wife’s culinary creations. She’s retired too and spends time and effort coming up with creative menus. We usually watch ’60s TV while we eat. Recently we’ve dialed clear back to the ’50s and are watching the original Wyatt Earp series. I’m a little jealous of all the guys on the show who are young and energetic and can shoot straight.
I don’t see many old guys like me on the show. Probably because of all those young, energetic guys that can shoot straight.
It’s time for a siesta by now, unless I took the power nap before lunch. No use being excessive. Then I try to fit in some exercises. My theory used to be No pain, No gain. Now it’s All pain, No gain. Well, it’s not as bad as that. Workouts only hurt a little now that I’ve stopped using heavy weights.
I often take time to look around at the things in the basement. Bonnie and I are downsizing and we have a lot we need to clear out. We used to be possessed by an exciting desire to acquire new things. Now we’re possessed by another desire: find new homes for those old things.
No, not the pickleball paddles!
Maybe I’ll clear out some of my backpacking gear that has been on the shelf unused for 10 years. Wow, was that stuff expensive! Maybe I can give it to a younger chap and save him some money. It’s time for somebody else to get out there and enjoy nature on the trail with almost none of the comforts of home.
Bonnie and I still hike, but now we call it walking. It’s on a paved trail in the park or a track in the local community center. The only equipment I need to buy now is shoes. Makes a trip to REI pretty boring these days, but much cheaper.
On game day, I watch or listen to my sports team. I used to be upset all day long when they lost. Now it’s only for a few minutes. I guess I’m not as big a fan as I used to be. Or it’s that attention-span thing again.
Sometimes our son calls to ask if we want to spend a week in a condo somewhere with him and his wife. I’ll say to wait a minute till I look in my appointment book, but I know there’s a good chance we’ll be free. Senior life is starting to look better and better.
Some days my younger friends want to hang out. Often, they ask me questions about some issue they are having. Maybe it’s because they know I’ve learned things the hard way and know everything not to do. The cool thing at this age, though, is that I’ve been around long enough to see the rewards of doing the right thing as well.
I’m also learning to enjoy time with myself. I feel more in the driver’s seat, rather than being driven. And when I make a wrong turn in my life, I can blame it on a senior moment!
Sooo . . .
Physically, the ’70s are hardly the best. The list of maladies on My Chart is getting so long that when the nurse read them off before my last procedure, people in the room started to yawn, even the anesthesiologist. My back and my knee give me trouble sometimes, but I can still do much of what I used to do—just in a more careful, or shall I say nuanced, way.
Mentally, just a couple of issues. One is that I find I need to concentrate more on things I used to do automatically. I can’t tell you the other, though. I forget what it is.
As far as my feelings go, I’m learning that emotions make good passengers, but not good drivers. Why has it taken almost a lifetime to learn that? To focus on the positive? To appreciate each day?
Finally, the spiritual me. This is where I’ll reveal my most important discovery. Religion is all about following rules. Christianity, though, is all about a relationship with Jesus. And it’s never been sweeter.
I realize that not everyone is blessed with as much free time or mobility as I am. That makes me determined to find a soul or two who might need an extra hand.
Yes, I’ve had some trouble adjusting to this season of my life. It’s taken a lot of blood, sweat, and years. There have been some tough changes. But maybe the ’70s are the best.
I do have a few boundaries I insist on, however. This is one: Don’t call me Buttercup unless you’re handing me a fresh hot coffee and an Egg McMuffin!
