George S. K. Rider - The Rogues Road to Retirement: How I Got My Groove Back after Sixty-Five—And How You Can, Too!

Copyright 2015 by George S. K. Rider

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

Cover design by Qualcom Design

Print ISBN: 978-1-62914-766-6

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-63220-110-2

Printed in the United States of America

For

Dorothy, my wonderful wife and partner for fifty great and exciting years; our son, Graham; his wife, Paulette; and their children, Graham Jr., Bradley, Victoria, and Duncan; and our daughter, Jennifer; and her husband, William McKeever.

Contents

Introduction

T hrow away your cardigan, your practical shoes, your fish oil pills, and Maalox. Theres much more to life after retirement than playing golf and looking after the grandkids. Get back in touch with your inner rascal and get going.

Every day, eight thousand Baby Boomers across the U.S. turn sixty-five This is a journey that can all too often become filled with empty days, boredom, and loneliness, as older Americans struggle to redefine and re-launch themselves.

I say just say no to slowing down and growing stodgy! Ive written The Rogues Road to Retirement for all you rebels, raconteurs, and rous out there (you know who you are!) who dont want to grow old gracefully... who want to grow old the way you grew upraising hell and having fun.

I am an eighty-two-year-old husband, father, and grandfather who has traveled a colorful (and mischievous) path after retirement and become an avowed believer in the philosophy thatwith the right attitude and the right game planyou can prevent yourself from becoming yet another aging, cranky, overweight couch potato. In fact, I believe you can make your retirement years the bestand the most fun and meaningfultime of your life. My advice? Follow the three Rs:

Recharge Your Batteries. Get off your duff, get a new passion, and get back in the game. You were never boring before you turned sixty or seventy. Why start now?

Record Your Memories. Write down your greatest hits for your grandchildren and the generations beyond, and not just your moments of glory, but also your moments of mischief-making. Lets face it! Theyre the ones youre most proud of anyway!

Revel in What Should and Can be the Best Time of Your Life. Reflect, make peace with growing older, and make the most of each day.

Told through a series of madcap adventures (think Mr. Magoo meets a graying, leather-clad Malcolm Forbes on his motorcycle), The Rogues Road to Retirement is designed to inspire seniors everywhere to keep trying new things until you find your passion. In my case, thats meant landing a part in a TV commercial for Pepsi doing the polka, starring in an MTV video with folk rock artist Joan Osborne, and swanning around writers conferences throughout my seventies and eighties, among other geriatric flights of fancy.

The Rogues Road to Retirement will also show you how to take stock of your fondest memories and defining moments, celebrate your youthful indiscretions, and reclaim the bad boy or girl within.

Finally, The Rogues Road to Retirement will help you to reflect on, and savor, the sweetness of growing older, which can include such victories as always getting a parking spot after youve finally succumbed to getting a handicap sticker; holding your grandchild for the first time and reveling in the fact that you are no longer the baldest member of your family; watching in amazement as your kids take you out to dinnerand actually pick up the tab for the first time in their lives; and being able to ignore people anytime you feel like it just by pretending youre hard of hearing. What did you say? Sorry, I cant hear you!

The Rogues Road to Retirement is about looking back while pushing forward. Its a funny, poignant, universal guide to retirement and agingdedicated to anyone like you or me who wont give up and wont grow old without a fight.

Chapter 1

The Second Stage of NoSurviving Turning
Seventy

T he Second Stage of No! When I neared seventy more than a decade ago, I was rudely awakened by a new set of rules. Not since I was a child were there so many dos and donts. With a hip replacement operation looming, a physical scheduled every twelve weeks, regular eye checkups for glaucoma, skin cancer harvests at least twice a year, and a PSA check every six months, I was constantly being told to pop pills, drip drops, lose weight, exercise, and not drink. (OK, maybe I cheated a bit on the last one.) The list seemed endless. Dorothy, my ever-loving wife, became the enforcer.

A few weeks before the big day, my seventieth birthday, my right eye began to blur. I had to face the music. I made an appointment to see a specialist in New York City for May 13 at 11:00 a.m., despite my lack of mobility resulting from arthritis in several joints, and a wonky left hip, right knee, and right ankle from various football and skiing mishaps. Walking was and is not a pretty sight for me most days.

At the time, 9/11 was still laser sharp in everyones memories, and the thought of traveling forty-eight miles into the city for any reason was daunting. All of my working lifemore than four and half decadeshad been spent commuting to Wall Street before sunrise on the Long Island Railroad. Now retired, I viewed the trek as a necessary, but giant, imposition. Excuses for putting off my eye check-up were easy... procrastination the order du jour.

When the dreaded day arrived, Dorothy dropped me off to catch the jitney into the city and reminded me to behave, keep my eye (the good one) on the time, and come right home after the appointment as we had a dinner date that night. The traffic was light, and there was no stress, other than my nagging need to hit the mens room. My plumbing had been slightly rearranged during a successful prostate removal at Sloane Kettering, so anything over an hour usually became agonizing! Finally, the jitney deposited me at Second Avenue and Seventy-Ninth Street, three doors from the doctors office. I checked my watch, much more aware of the time than I had ever been before I retired, despite the fact that now I had no real place to go. Time elapsed: one hour and fifteen minutes.

Preliminary screening and testing completed, I was ushered into an examination room. Moments later the doctor appeared, reviewed the test data, and proceeded with the exam. I looked down at my watch. One hour, thirty minutes since departure.

Not bad, not bad at all , I thought. Id be home in time for a late lunch. But then the doctor motioned for me to stay seated. We had a few things to discuss.

The news was not good. Not only had the pressure gone up in my right eye, my left eye was also diagnosed with glaucoma. Our discussion was followed by a gentle but firm lecture on follow-up discipline (it had been over a year since my last appointment). I left kicking myself. Although the condition could be treated, I had taken an unnecessary risk by delaying my appointment, and the disease could still compromise my eyesight if I wasnt more careful. I was shaken by the news.