Greetings from rainy, humid, partly sunny Ft. Meyers, FL. I have no idea about the history or naming of this town. I can only hope that it was a military installation at one time because the only other option is that some unfortunate little kid was named "Fort". Which would be particularly cruel form of teasing by his 1st grade class mates. Down here on business and was reminded again why we are not really tempted to move back to Houston. As my late father-in-law used to say when visiting us all those years ago in Houston, "when I shower, it feels like I'm just changing sweat." One of the few things on which we agreed.
So last night I took the rep to dinner here in Ft Meyers and as he drove around looking for a place in which we both could find something, we passed up Cheddars and Longhorn, Olive Garden and PF Chang's and finally settled on Carrabbas. As we walked in I noticed that at the age of 59 (me) and early 40's (rep) we dramatically lowered the average age of the diners. This was a blue-hair convention. Now, I will admit that my hair is not exactly the same color as portrayed in my high school photos, but this was a different group. The other noticeable characteristic was the leather complected diners. This crowd could make a raiding Arab party look a little pale. Bermuda shorts and polos and sandals seemed the dress code. I felt out of place in my jeans, Danskos, and sport shirt (untucked) My rep looked like he needed a kid's menu.
As I took all this in I was reminded of a special I saw on HBO a couple of weeks ago depicting the life of Northern transplants to FL. The cast could have been dining last night in the same place. It was eerie how similar these folks looked to the folks profiled in the HBO show. The show might have been the most depressing show I have watched in a long time. It profiled about 5 or 6 "residents" at a retirement community that had all moved from the NY, New England area. They were all post-70s, they were all widowed/widowered (?) And none of them were living the life they thought they might be at this point. It was a common quote that each had a lot of acquaintances, but no friends. There seemed to be a lot of activity, but not connection. The little apartments were festooned with keepsakes from another life and another time. A constant reminder that they were not in the lives of their kids or grand kids, nor did there seem to be much motivation to change the scenario.
It occurred to me that they had moved to FL to die, out of sight of their families, out of sight of their lives from before, without the touch and warmth of their old friends, without anything but the knick knacks of their youth. What disturbed me the most was that in some ways they were already a memory. Their families would not remember them from the recent past, but from some snapshot of a happier, more fulfilling time.
Perhaps this was the point. To escape the reality of growing old, to preserve a more youthful memory. But some of these people had been there for 30 years. Would they have made the same decision, the decision to leave family and friends if they thought it was a 30 year marathon? At the age of 65, would they have said to themselves, "I would rather be warm, than to be warmed by family?"
I have no idea what the logic was behind the decisions. But my take on the growing old thing is this, I want my kids and my grand kids to see me grow old, to struggle with a faltering mind and body that is grinding down. Why? Because I hope to be able to teach in those moments. I watch my dad at 90 still enjoying life, troubled by a hip that makes it hard to walk and climb stairs, frustrated by the struggle to remember all the grand kid/great-grandkids names (frankly, I struggle with it as well) and knowing that the vast majority of the life's journey is behind rather than ahead. But he still jokes and laughs and reads, and cross-word puzzles, and limps his 16 block walk. He is, in my opinion, the epitome of courage in old age. I am logging away his wisdom to teach to my progeny.
There is an old saying, 'Live long enough to be a problem to your kids." My take on this is to live long enough to teach them ALL the lessons you have. Deal with the cold, deal with the aching body, deal with the faulty memory, but teach. I remember sitting on the edge of my mother's bed when she was in the last few days of her life, and knew she was at the end. I was 30 and she was teaching me the eternal, spiritual truths she wanted me to know. She only had 57 years to accumulate and export her special brand of wisdom. My dad has had 90+ years, but he is still teaching. I hope my last words are words of wisdom to my kids, my grandkids, and if God is willing my great-grandkids. I hope my legacy is one of teaching truths by the way I lived to the ones I love. Not in some far away, lonely place. This will not be my future.
Godspeed to all those who have some journey left. Reach behind you for the hands of those that follow and help them up the trail. And then at the right moment, push them forward with words of encouragement, words of wisdom.Then and only then will your journey be finished.
Don
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