Those 70ish Girls

Been doing some soul searching, look backs and walks down memory lane lately, which happens when you’re approaching life’s final scene of Act 3. But the play hasn’t brought down the final curtain yet. I realized that I have a few cousins who put me to shame. They can work circles around me as well as earn millions in one day while I am easily living almost as high on the hog as a church mouse, if a hog can even be compared to a mouse in the same sentence. And why would a mouse live in a church? There’s obviously no cheese there.

Regardless, one tends to compare and evaluate one’s successes and shortcomings in life, looking back periodically while at the same time our 70’s envelope us like an old holey, comfy afghan that’s seen better times. Did I accomplish all I set out to do? Did I give life my best shot, never compromising unless necessary and did I work hard for what was important, carrying, caring and uplifting others along the way? The goals I set for myself in high school were to be a vet, then I decided I couldn’t stand animal blood nor do surgery on people’s pets, plus I couldn’t get decent grades in science classes. So I switched to being an English major in college because I loved reading great books, with the goal of teaching school some day and sharing the love of reading. It wouldn’t pay much, but it would make me happy. Can you choose between making money or being happy at what you do? The lucky ones can do both and some of my cousins have been lucky at that: they are happy at what they do plus they have made good dough. I made lots of mistakes in life. I learned from many and turned things around. I concluded that I’m happy with how things have gone.

So I have also decided not to compare myself to my wonderful, talented, hardworking and well off cousins. What’s the point? They might have multiple houses, beautiful big cars, money to burn but they have worked long hours and years for what they have and some have married well. That can help. Some are still working every day even into their 70’s. I couldn’t do that. I am happy for them. Bravo. Good for them. However, I’m done. Retired. Capoot. Yet still the final curtain awaits.

Lest you think that I give up too easily, that’s true. I happen to feel retirement is a form of giving up. That’s what is so beautiful about retirement. I can be lazy and pretend every day is Saturday, yet say when asked, “Me? No, I don’t work anymore outside the home. I’m tired and tired again so I’m retired.” It’s a solid and honest excuse.

Another good thing about being retired, is you can give back and still sorta kinda work by volunteering. It makes me feel good to help in my community. I guess some cousins are doing what they like to do. Aunt Loretta had it right: I wasn’t made to work that hard, was her comment. She knew you had to stop at some point and enjoy life.

And there is always plenty of work and always chores around the house to accomplish. Now I am looking for those crummy old mousetraps we had here somewhere. Got a pesky mouse sharing our food with us. Darn mouse. Guess it moved to our poorhouse from the church.