The milestone of reaching 65 may have passed a few days ago, managed to keep
below the radar fairly well but decided the occasion had to be marked somehow.
No party that’s for sure, have never been a party girl. I’m not entirely
anti-social but on the rare occasions I venture out to attend such a ‘do’ you’ll
probably find me lurking on the fringes mumbling “are we having fun yet?” I’m
more of a You’ll always find me in
the Kitchen at Parties kind of girl, hovering around to see if I can do
something useful, or perusing other people’s bookcases to check out their books
and magazines and DVD collections. Not that I’m judging those who like parties,
and I certainly enjoy sitting round having a good chat with friends, but I
guess I’m just too darn lazy to go to the trouble of making lists of things to
do or buy or make or pick up in order to stage such an event. Oh dear, what a
party pooper.
That said, as I stated back in the early days of this blog six years
ago, if my genetic makeup is anything to go by I could be around for a good while yet, and the last thing I want to be doing in this third
trimester of my life is sitting around in the oldies’ waiting room joining the
queue to mount the slippery slide which will speed me on my way and land me
with an unceremonious bump at the bottom then bid me a fond farewell.
I have friends my age who are zipping back and forth across the planet
seeking out all manner of wonderful places to explore, cultures both similar
and vastly different from our own, surrounded by languages they can’t
understand. The conversations may be very ordinary, but it can be fascinating
to hear them in a foreign tongue. Others are trekking around the country and
also heading overseas to help strengthen community networks, provide training
and assist local workers in assessing how best to serve the needs of their
communities. Others are so active in retirement they wonder how they ever had
time to go to work.
One thing is apparent, it is not a time to be idle, use it or lose it
they say, so I sometimes wonder what awaits me when I finally close the doors
on my current working role, maybe this time next year. The grey nomads are safe
from any invasion from my quarters, and I think the dodgy back is going to see
me relegated to terra firma instead of hopping on long-haul flights to explore
the wild blue yonder. So what am I going to get up to? I have a few ideas, but
who knows what could open up when the time comes.
Past the use by date? Never. Not me, nor anyone as far as I’m concerned.
We wrinklies might be greyer, balder, paunchier, slower and creakier than at
the start of our working lives, but if we don’t pass on the wealth of
experience locked away in our still active brains, and the desire to make a
positive contribution wherever we find ourselves, we’ll be doing both ourselves
and those who come after us a disservice.
I’ll never make a lot of noise, but I don’t want to fade into the
background either. Dylan Thomas may have penned it appropriately with his
classic
Do not go gentle into that
good night
Old age should burn and
rave at close of day…
So, as my last word on this auspicious occasion of reaching
pensionerdom, I wrote a somewhat less profound ditty of my own.
IT’S OFFICIAL
For my birthday
they gave me a
little blue card
but somehow I
still
find it rather
hard
to believe I’ve
arrived
at this new stage
of life
where the
prospect
of facing
adventurous strife
is somewhat
diminished,
for my daily
activities
are more subdued
than once they
were
when life was
fast and
whizzed past in a
blur.
In the distance
retirement
beckons me
but it won’t
be one of
inactivity
I’ll still be
pottering
here and there
pulling out weeds
while I pull out
my hair
from working out
what to do with
my days
for no structure
in life
can be a real
maze.
The grey nomads
are safe
I’ll leave them
alone
I won’t be buying
a travelling home
I’ll stick around
and do my bit
try new things
and see where I
fit.
Will I age
gracefully
or disgracefully
the jury’s out on
that,
but one thing is
for sure.
This bona fide
fully fledged
card carrying
pensioner
might be wrinkly
and grey
and a little bit
mad but
I won’t throw in
the towel
or raise the
white flag,
there’s years in
me yet
to work it all
out
for I’ve finally
earned
the right to be
an official old
bag.
