pains that accompany passing years, nor is forgetfulness a positive for those of us who are in the last third of our lives. However, some things are much better with age.
One of the benefits of growing older is retirement. I took mine early. Thirty years of teaching proved to be all I could stand, and reading and hearing from those still in the profession about the hoops through which they must jump, I have to thank God that He knows what’s best for me. I should add thanks to Amy that she’s willing to work so that I can be finished with the work world.
This life without having to answer an alarm every morning is special. My days consist of writing, covering a story or two, completing “honey-do’s,” and playing golf. The best thing of all is that I can say “no” to any of those if my mood doesn’t match their demands. I’m my own boss; well, Amy is actually the CEO of Rector, Inc., but no outside individual has power over my time and what I do with it. I highly recommend retirement to all who can find things to keep themselves busy. I always enjoyed my job, but I refused to let it become the center of my life. Some might say I’m too self-centered to let that happen.
Age also shows us who’s in charge. Just when I think I am the man I used to be, the years sneak into bed after a long day of yard work and clamp vices on calf and thigh muscles. My nights are often filled with fitful sleep as aches and pains come in waves. It’s then that the years announce that it’s all right to take a rest or two during chores. I’ve discovered that sometimes the harder chores require my calling for help.
Growing older also helps us to forget. Yes, I know putting an item away and then not being able to find it is maddening. That’s not what I’m talking about. Age helps us to forget to worry. Amy used to say that her mother lived a contented life during her last years, and the main cause was that she didn’t worry about a thing. Mary Alice lived for the moment, and she enjoyed her time with friends and family without concerning herself about the “small stuff” in life. Nobody can come up with a better way of living.
For years people knew my intensity about anything was exhausting and volatile. I had an opinion on everything and argued it whenever someone disagreed. My patience was easily worn thin, and righteous indignation rose over the slightest things.
Lately, my family has been shocked at how I’ve let some things that used to set me off pass. My daughter waits for me to explode with “moronic drivers” or traffic jams. Amy is shocked that I have developed more patience with folks I don’t necessarily like and for shows that I once refused to watch. Dallas is stunned that I tolerate some things that grandson Madden does, things that used to bring on spankings or, worse, verbal tirades.
What finally got through my thick skull is that I have only so much energy, and it is more quickly depleted now. I have to carefully choose my battles, so that means things that used to chap me are left alone. It’s good that age has mellowed me. Don’t get me wrong; I still can have a conniption if the situation demands it, and I have enough energy to outwork most of the younger folks around.
I coast a little more in this life now, and the reward is finding so much to enjoy and love. I’m okay with myself and in my years. Both are well worn enough to be comfortable like an old pair of shoes. I hope several more years are left to be laid back before I’m laid low.
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