77--So What?
Bensblurb #530 3/12/10
So they say seven is a lucky number. If so, I’m real lucky. For, like the old TV series “77 Sunset Strip,” I’m getting there this month. To 77, of course, not to Hollywood.
And fortunately for me, I have plenty company, besides my loving and only wife, of course. According to George Will, “Every day 10,000 boomers will join the ranks of [the retired].”
Welcome, kids. We real seniors have our old-guys group, ROMEO, which meets once a month for breakfast at Jimmy the Greek’s and stands for Retired Old Men Eating Out. And my seniors barbershop chorus at Mt. Vernon numbers over 60 and boasts an excellent soloist, age 97.
And how about this new invention, the PC, that has improved every year of my 15 years in retirement, giving me lots of contacts with former classmates and relatives to help me while away the idle hours. The Internet is surely a godsend, making all these columns a joy to compose.
Now I’m in bonus time, since the average lifetime of guys similarly born in 1933 ended several years ago.
They say it helps for longevity’s sake to keep the mind engaged. “Maintaining a rich network of social connections [helps] keep the brain’s neurons firing,” according to a recent issue of Time devoted to the aging process.
Of course, my own network isn’t that rich in monetary terms, although many of us enjoy cushy retirements from government service.
But it’s not so comforting that many of us older folks, drawing on programs like Medicare and Social Security, are growing more numerous and problematic, thanks largely to medical advances. We are helping cause the major problems over the nation’s soaring debt.
Which also brings me to looking down the road and wondering if I’ll be around long enough to see the U.S. pull out of its current troubles. I hope so, but that’s going to take a lot of time.
As George Will also wrote about us agers, “America’s destiny is demographic, and therefore is inexorable and predictable, which makes the nation’s fiscal mismanagement by both parties especially shocking.”
Before things get better, I’d almost wager that I’ll see the Washington Redskins win another Super Bowl. I’d sure like to stay around for that. Or to see a Republican again in the White House.
Neither prospect might be all that bizarre. After all, guys my age can expect on average to log another nine years before checking out. Heck, that’s long enough for me to become a great-great grandfather.
But wait. There was that little episode of chest pains four years ago. Four stents--not developed until recently--were plugged into the vicinity of my heart. Maybe I’d better not act so uppity and indestructible; and I really should forfeit a few (dozen) pounds.
A bigger immediate problem is my driving skills. They aren’t getting any better. I’ve been lucky for the past decade. However, since the eyesight is particularly tested in driving at night, maybe I’d better stay off the streets then. Especially bad has been trying to observe those dim, damned lane markings that hassle drivers on Garrisonville Road.
Before I get mad just thinking about them, I’d better quit and go back to sleep. Wake me when Obama’s over.
So they say seven is a lucky number. If so, I’m real lucky. For, like the old TV series “77 Sunset Strip,” I’m getting there this month. To 77, of course, not to Hollywood.
And fortunately for me, I have plenty company, besides my loving and only wife, of course. According to George Will, “Every day 10,000 boomers will join the ranks of [the retired].”
Welcome, kids. We real seniors have our old-guys group, ROMEO, which meets once a month for breakfast at Jimmy the Greek’s and stands for Retired Old Men Eating Out. And my seniors barbershop chorus at Mt. Vernon numbers over 60 and boasts an excellent soloist, age 97.
And how about this new invention, the PC, that has improved every year of my 15 years in retirement, giving me lots of contacts with former classmates and relatives to help me while away the idle hours. The Internet is surely a godsend, making all these columns a joy to compose.
Now I’m in bonus time, since the average lifetime of guys similarly born in 1933 ended several years ago.
They say it helps for longevity’s sake to keep the mind engaged. “Maintaining a rich network of social connections [helps] keep the brain’s neurons firing,” according to a recent issue of Time devoted to the aging process.
Of course, my own network isn’t that rich in monetary terms, although many of us enjoy cushy retirements from government service.
But it’s not so comforting that many of us older folks, drawing on programs like Medicare and Social Security, are growing more numerous and problematic, thanks largely to medical advances. We are helping cause the major problems over the nation’s soaring debt.
Which also brings me to looking down the road and wondering if I’ll be around long enough to see the U.S. pull out of its current troubles. I hope so, but that’s going to take a lot of time.
As George Will also wrote about us agers, “America’s destiny is demographic, and therefore is inexorable and predictable, which makes the nation’s fiscal mismanagement by both parties especially shocking.”
Before things get better, I’d almost wager that I’ll see the Washington Redskins win another Super Bowl. I’d sure like to stay around for that. Or to see a Republican again in the White House.
Neither prospect might be all that bizarre. After all, guys my age can expect on average to log another nine years before checking out. Heck, that’s long enough for me to become a great-great grandfather.
But wait. There was that little episode of chest pains four years ago. Four stents--not developed until recently--were plugged into the vicinity of my heart. Maybe I’d better not act so uppity and indestructible; and I really should forfeit a few (dozen) pounds.
A bigger immediate problem is my driving skills. They aren’t getting any better. I’ve been lucky for the past decade. However, since the eyesight is particularly tested in driving at night, maybe I’d better stay off the streets then. Especially bad has been trying to observe those dim, damned lane markings that hassle drivers on Garrisonville Road.
Before I get mad just thinking about them, I’d better quit and go back to sleep. Wake me when Obama’s over.
posted by Ben Blankenship at
2:12 PM
