Alternatives in Retirement
Getting old is a frightening proposition my friends, and with each passing day comes another reminder of what lies ahead. Every morning I look into the mirror and wonder "who is this relic before me with grey hair growing out of his ears?" Sadly, my fading reflection does not answer, staring back at me with the same anguished expression that I project.
A few weeks ago I traveled back to my native Long Island to visit with my sisters (Eve, Laura, Emily and Sally), nephews and nieces for a few days. During a Saturday luncheon (arranged by my younger sister Sally and held in her home) the table conversation got around to the subject of age and retirement, a topic which had not previously been discussed within this particular group.
Laura mentioned that she had recently received an email about a woman who had conceived a novel retirement choice, offering an alternative to the standard assisted living option. The woman suggested that one could simply live on a cruise ship for the rest of one's days, enjoying the benefits that these sea-faring hotels have to offer. She would have a nice view of the ocean from her sea-side room, feast on the endless number of buffets aboard, meet new people every fourteen to sixteen days, and visit the ship's doctor for any pressing medical needs.
"This plan was brilliant", I thought picturing Janet and I on an endless voyage. Never again would I need to worry about cleaning my room (actually I rarely worry about that anyway), running to the Getty Mart for milk and beer, or have to pay personal property tax on a car which has been sitting idle in my driveway for three years. When it came time to shuffle off this mortal coil and join the choir invisible, a few stewards could guzzle a cheap bottle of wine in my honor, mutter a brief prayer or a bawdy maritime-themed limerick and hoist my lifeless mass overboard, avoiding that whole funeral and graveyard scene.
As the afternoon became evening, the Kaufman siblings began to explore other retirement options, perhaps more suited to our lifestyles. Rather than spending the rest of our lives chewing Dramamine and smelling like halibut, several of us thought we might try a similar approach to the cruise tactic, but on land. Perhaps a senior friendly, warm climate location like Las Vegas would suit?
Imagine a tribe of sibling retirees establishing squatting rights at the Bellagio! Many of principles created in the cruise model would still apply; Huge buffets, nightly entertainment, lavish surroundings and bus loads of white-haired nickel-slot playing friends arriving daily. We just trade sand for waves, that's all! The five of us could pool our Social Security money every month, select a family member to drop a bundle at the casino and, BOOM, we all receive free lodging and a complimentary bottle of champagne courtesy of the management who generally takes a shine to incompetent gamblers. With a little bad luck we could outlast Wayne Newton's run on the strip.
Naturally there are some holes in this "Vegas invasion." After a while, we would no doubt be summarily tossed from hotel grounds forcing us to seek shelter elsewhere. Considering the amount of hotels in Sin City, our wandering tribe might be able to stretch our adventure out for a few years, but what then? Reno and Atlantic City would certainly have caught wind of our flock of geriatric nomads and ban us from properties as well.
No matter how we sliced it, it seemed as though the specter of old age still yawned before us. I see my sisters as I have always seen them, not as aging women, but as the same beautiful, funny and intelligent people I grew up with. Although we spoke of our twilight years, I could not help but feel a burst of youth that afternoon, for as long as we all age together we will remain as we always were; a family.
The next morning, the man in the mirror was smiling back at me. Thank you Eve, Laura, Emily and Sally!
Friday, August 28, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Bad Trip, Dude
I am not a big fan of summer. Width challenged people (like me) normally don't fare well in toasty climates, often producing enough perspiration to drown a small child. Aside from my prodigious glad secretion, I am apparently considered quite a delicacy in the insect world, providing a veritable buffet for anything that hovers. There is no way for me to escape the horrors of the season, not even when on vacation.
In the past, Janet, Will and I have experienced a mix bag of family summer excursions. Like most families, all of us have specific stipulations when negotiating family getaways. While Janet considers any location north of the Mason-Dixon Line a frozen, inhabitable wasteland, Will is game for any destination as long as he can bring a friend along to buffer the strain of being with his parents twenty-four seven. Boarding an airplane is not an option for me (fear of being identified by my dental records), limiting our options substantially.
Frankly our luck has been quite thin when attempting family travel. One year we drove half-way to Myrtle Beach and were turned back in Laurinburg, NC due to adverse weather conditions. The following summer we made another run at Myrtle, but our vehicle gave up the ghost in Burlington, NC. The next year we voyaged to Disney World (successfully avoiding most of the deadly state of North Carolina), only to snap a timing belt twenty miles outside of Orlando. This short list of failed treks pale in comparison to the time Janet and I endeavored to leave the country and canter off to Mexico.
Employed by a since failed communications outfit, I (along with my peers) was presented with a free, all expenses paid five day holiday to Playa Del Carmen, Mexico, a lovely resort area on the Yucatan peninsula. All meals, drinks and activities were covered in the package and Janet and I preparing excitedly for the charter flight that would carry us to paradise. Note: Although I often sprout chicken feathers when air travel is mentioned, the miser in me found this "free everything" concept too difficult to overcome. Dramamine was purchased and my dentist was notified (just in case).
On the day of the flight, we would drive down to Raleigh, NC and depart from the airport with the rest of our charter group. I thought "North Carolina AGAIN, what kind of fiendish trap have they fashioned for us this time?" Nervously, I put the car in gear and set off in search of Raleigh.
The first leg of the trip went smoothly as I traversed 220 South and cruised by Greensboro. Swearing that Raleigh was west of Greensboro, I turned on to Interstate 40 and proceeded to ignore every road sign I passed and Janet's assertion that we were going the wrong way. Finally, when I saw a sign reading "Knoxville 78 miles", I exited the road and began to swim in my own aforementioned exudation. The flight was scheduled for departure at 12:30pm, my dashboard clock read 11:05, and we were at least two hours from Raleigh. Those wicked Carolinians had managed to impede my progress once again, this time by cleverly moving Raleigh to the eastern side of the state!
Janet remained completely calm as slammed my head into the dashboard. Janet, I might add, is the best person in the world to be with during a crisis. In battle, you would want Janet sitting next to you in a foxhole, conversely, in case of war I am designated as a hostage.
Barreling down the road at break-neck speed I weaved my way through traffic as my business cohorts tried to delay the flight. Russ, a quick-minded, jittery fellow with the disposition of a Poodle, raced to the check in counter and began to stall. Russ told them that I was elderly and was on my way to the terminal in my wheelchair. Failing do be moved by Russ's story, the crew began boarding the passengers. Not to be deterred, Russ spun another tale, this time I was of Mexican national and I was traveling my homeland to see my dying Jose brother for, perhaps, the last time. Boarding continued without delay and Russ was getting desperate.
Janet and I were closing in on the airport when the crew closed the doors of the aircraft and prepared for take off. Russ, my hero, determined to "leave no sales manager behind" sprang from his seat, dashed past a group of flight attendants, spotted an open cockpit door and parked himself in the pilot's seat! Presently, a stunt like that would have earned brave Russ in a first class suite at the Guantanamo Hilton, yet he remained behind the controls until security was summoned to the plane. Back on the road, Janet and I had reached the airport grounds and began jumping speed bumps "Dukes of Hazzard" style, I dropped poor Janet off at the gate off with eight pieces of luggage and sped off to the parking garage.
We boarded the plane to the catcalls of everyone aboard and Captain Russ was released by his captors, shaken, but uninjured.
In a few weeks Will, Janet and I are planning another trip. Steering clear of the dreaded state of North Carolina, we are heading to our nation's capital for a few days of sightseeing and relaxation. If the Department Homeland Security decides to raise their terror alert rating a notch or two during that time period, you will know why.
I am not a big fan of summer. Width challenged people (like me) normally don't fare well in toasty climates, often producing enough perspiration to drown a small child. Aside from my prodigious glad secretion, I am apparently considered quite a delicacy in the insect world, providing a veritable buffet for anything that hovers. There is no way for me to escape the horrors of the season, not even when on vacation.
In the past, Janet, Will and I have experienced a mix bag of family summer excursions. Like most families, all of us have specific stipulations when negotiating family getaways. While Janet considers any location north of the Mason-Dixon Line a frozen, inhabitable wasteland, Will is game for any destination as long as he can bring a friend along to buffer the strain of being with his parents twenty-four seven. Boarding an airplane is not an option for me (fear of being identified by my dental records), limiting our options substantially.
Frankly our luck has been quite thin when attempting family travel. One year we drove half-way to Myrtle Beach and were turned back in Laurinburg, NC due to adverse weather conditions. The following summer we made another run at Myrtle, but our vehicle gave up the ghost in Burlington, NC. The next year we voyaged to Disney World (successfully avoiding most of the deadly state of North Carolina), only to snap a timing belt twenty miles outside of Orlando. This short list of failed treks pale in comparison to the time Janet and I endeavored to leave the country and canter off to Mexico.
Employed by a since failed communications outfit, I (along with my peers) was presented with a free, all expenses paid five day holiday to Playa Del Carmen, Mexico, a lovely resort area on the Yucatan peninsula. All meals, drinks and activities were covered in the package and Janet and I preparing excitedly for the charter flight that would carry us to paradise. Note: Although I often sprout chicken feathers when air travel is mentioned, the miser in me found this "free everything" concept too difficult to overcome. Dramamine was purchased and my dentist was notified (just in case).
On the day of the flight, we would drive down to Raleigh, NC and depart from the airport with the rest of our charter group. I thought "North Carolina AGAIN, what kind of fiendish trap have they fashioned for us this time?" Nervously, I put the car in gear and set off in search of Raleigh.
The first leg of the trip went smoothly as I traversed 220 South and cruised by Greensboro. Swearing that Raleigh was west of Greensboro, I turned on to Interstate 40 and proceeded to ignore every road sign I passed and Janet's assertion that we were going the wrong way. Finally, when I saw a sign reading "Knoxville 78 miles", I exited the road and began to swim in my own aforementioned exudation. The flight was scheduled for departure at 12:30pm, my dashboard clock read 11:05, and we were at least two hours from Raleigh. Those wicked Carolinians had managed to impede my progress once again, this time by cleverly moving Raleigh to the eastern side of the state!
Janet remained completely calm as slammed my head into the dashboard. Janet, I might add, is the best person in the world to be with during a crisis. In battle, you would want Janet sitting next to you in a foxhole, conversely, in case of war I am designated as a hostage.
Barreling down the road at break-neck speed I weaved my way through traffic as my business cohorts tried to delay the flight. Russ, a quick-minded, jittery fellow with the disposition of a Poodle, raced to the check in counter and began to stall. Russ told them that I was elderly and was on my way to the terminal in my wheelchair. Failing do be moved by Russ's story, the crew began boarding the passengers. Not to be deterred, Russ spun another tale, this time I was of Mexican national and I was traveling my homeland to see my dying Jose brother for, perhaps, the last time. Boarding continued without delay and Russ was getting desperate.
Janet and I were closing in on the airport when the crew closed the doors of the aircraft and prepared for take off. Russ, my hero, determined to "leave no sales manager behind" sprang from his seat, dashed past a group of flight attendants, spotted an open cockpit door and parked himself in the pilot's seat! Presently, a stunt like that would have earned brave Russ in a first class suite at the Guantanamo Hilton, yet he remained behind the controls until security was summoned to the plane. Back on the road, Janet and I had reached the airport grounds and began jumping speed bumps "Dukes of Hazzard" style, I dropped poor Janet off at the gate off with eight pieces of luggage and sped off to the parking garage.
We boarded the plane to the catcalls of everyone aboard and Captain Russ was released by his captors, shaken, but uninjured.
In a few weeks Will, Janet and I are planning another trip. Steering clear of the dreaded state of North Carolina, we are heading to our nation's capital for a few days of sightseeing and relaxation. If the Department Homeland Security decides to raise their terror alert rating a notch or two during that time period, you will know why.
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