Sixty-Five Today

I don’t mind turning 65.  I almost didn’t make it past 52, so 65 is quite an achievement.  Thirteen additional years to try and get it right. I’m needing at least another ten.

This is the last birthday you get rewarded. Medicare. Now I’m a full-pledged socialist, living off the government dole. Social security and Medicare. Wow! Just think, all us old folks are Marxists.

Things could be better in this country. The WWII generation and boomer generation have not done us much good. People complain about the young kids, but they are the ones who are going to have to save us, mainly from ourselves.

I’ve had a good 65 years. I’ve done some interesting things, married my childhood sweetheart, had two good kids, got a Masters degree, which no one would have ever guessed. I had a good career as a family therapist. I have a lot of friends, both old and new.  I retired at age 60. My wife and I moved to Arkansas two years ago, which is still under review.  I’ve always taken the road less traveled, for whatever reason. I try to do my best, which most days comes up short. Would I do certain things over? You bet.

I would have never guessed that I would have made it to 65. The odds were not good.  Sixty-five is getting old. Still, I don’t really feel 65. I’d put myself at maybe 58. Yea, 58 feels about right.

One of my unfulfilled goals is being a revolutionary.  So far the revolution hasn’t gotten off the ground, although we are somewhat closer. A revolutionary without a revolution. Well, we’ll see. I am getting a little old for that kind of crap.

I play golf two or three times a week, shoot buckets on Thursday in the H.O.R.S.E.  league, fish maybe once or twice a week, have joined one committee, maintain three blogs,  walk 3-4 times a week with the dog,  dig crystals when I can, and we go out to eat maybe twice per week. All in all, I’d be a fool to complain, although I am living in Republican hell.