Our lawyer is in his eighties. He comes into the office almost every day and does not delegate our work to anyone. He has bright eyes that lurk like small fish underneath his shaggy salt and pepper eyebrows. I think it likely that he will simply die one day, hopefully years from now, while sitting around a conference table working with clients, draped in the sartorial splendor of a bespoke three-piece suit, suffused in the unique ambiance of his silk-stocking law firm. I love that man!
I have another friend who couldn’t wait to retire so she and her husband could move to The Villages, Florida to play golf by day and sing karaoke by night. Sounds like purgatory at best, to me, but I’ve been proselytized about the lifestyle by its devotees sufficiently to know that it is the cat’s meow for a lot of people.
There are others who sell their homes and go sailing; others become caretakers for their ailing spouses and babysitters for grandchildren; still others become full-time volunteers and mentors either in their own community or in some other part of the world. Others continue to work full or part-time out of necessity.
Some are lucky enough to write.
We may experience a point in our lives where general frailty, mental and/or physical deficits, or disease may have 51% of the say in where and how we live.
I’ve been considering whether I have a philosophy of aging and where personal pleasure, creative pursuits, family connectivity, spiritual odyssey and service to others might fit within an overall diagram if I were to draw one for myself.
How about you? Do you have a philosophy that relates to being old?