Ralph Latham
A Personal Journal Reflecting On Aging
June 9 | June 10

	Reflections of Judy Schmidt June 6: Not Really A Day Off June 7: Wilma the Ringleader June 8: Hard to Get the Younger Seniors Involved June 9: Asking for Help is OK June 10: Making Friends June 11: Saying Things We Don't Mean June 12: Negativity June 14: It's Nice to Make A Difference June 15: Working Conflicts June 17: Wish I Could be a Hero June 19: Getting Busy June 20: Time to Slow Down

June 9: How's Retirement? Great!
It's been a varied and fascinating day, including encounters with the currently ubiquitous army worms during our hike to the Devil's Kettle Falls in C. R. Magney State Park. The mosquitoes we expected, but had only heard distant reports of the army worm infestation. A single individual of that species is not a bad-looking specimen, but their huge numbers and their messy habits are a nuisance. On the other hand, we spotted a few showy ladyslippers in bloom—the Minnesota state flower, I believe. And we admired the Brule River and its tumbling run, more spectacular even than the tumbling runs of Olympic gymnasts.

Still, after nearly six years of semi-retirement followed by the past three years of full-time retirement, people ask me "How's retirement?" I've taken to responding, "Retirement's just a walk in the park!" Some days it is literally that, but the metaphor in the statement is what pleases me most. It's leisurely but active, scenic because we're lucky to have a healthy home beside the greatest of the Great Lakes, and we're richly blessed with good health and sufficient money so we can pursue several lively interests.

Most of our lively interests are relatively quiet ones—one doesn't generate much noise while sitting up all night reading a mystery novel, or hunched over a table scribbling notes for some attempt at light (or maybe even serious) poetry. And outdoors, we go for the "energy from muscles" type of activities, which are not only quiet, but also much simpler as to equipment and maintenance than the mechanized and motorized stuff.

I've always been apprehensive about motorized gadgets—except the automobile, with which I've maintained a largely compatible co-existence, probably because it's close to being essential. But other internal combustion engines? Well, I just don't like 'em much. When we once bought an Iowa weed-tree acreage, everyone said, "You gotta get a chainsaw!" So I bought one. A very brief acquaintance with that beast taught me the meaning of "FEAR!" and "HATRED!" And when we moved up here to retire, we chose to live at the bottom of a steep driveway. So, it was "Hey, Ralph; you need a 4-wheel drive pickup." Right. Bought one. That wasn't so bad—no panic or loathing. But it wasn't exactly love at first sight, either.

So I'm a tractable and cooperative guy, willing to consider well-meant and seemingly practical suggestions. But retirement is making me think about being more independent and assertive. After all, do I really need to try to please everybody? Hope not! That would be a big task, too big for a quiet, laid-back old guy.

June 10: Thinking About Health
I sometimes get to fretting about health—mine particularly, but also the health of family members and friends. On days when I'm not feeling very vigorous, just lumpin' around doing little or nothing, that's when I'm most liable to get a little jumpy and imagine that my dry-skin flakiness is incipient scrofula or cancer or some other dreaded thing.

Last year when I was talking with one of the fine physicians in our excellent local clinic, she reminded me that there are two kinds of patients: those who have serious or chronic illnesses or health problems to cope with and just take it all in stride, and those like myself who are relatively disease-free, seldom really need the doctor, but who worry and stew over every little twinge. Mercifully, she didn't scold me or use such terms as hypochondria, worry-wart, or the mocking phrase, "Ooooh, poooor baaabeeeee." Still, that moment's experience was enough to remind me to count my blessings.

But, to stay healthy, or get healthy, we all need to work at it. And I suppose that I'm less conscientious in some respects than I should be. Oh, I take my blood pressure medication and aspirin daily—without fail. That's one of my good habits. And I'm pretty good about regular exercise such as walking, puttering in the yard, and especially bicycling quite a few miles every week. But I feel some mild paroxysms of guilt whenever I think about the amounts of candy and cookies I consume. And I know to my chagrin that I'm addicted to coffee, too. So what's a man to do? I try to drink more water and less coffee, and for some months went without butter, almost entirely. But resolute about abstaining from sweets I am not.

Should I wallow in guilt about that? No, I think not. Guilt leads to stress, and that's bad for both the health and the disposition.

Actually, I feel best when I'm busy but not too busy. It's the balance that's hard to hang onto. Start being a doer, and various people and organizations will just keep on encouraging you to do do do. That's good and fulfilling up to a point, but once in a while it's time to back up, take some time off, rest up and regroup.

So, with that rationale as my guide, I sit through a few hours on one of those downtime days playing FreeCell on the computer. Now, I know that computers were developed to take care of serious business and enable people to turn huge profits making cagey deals. But I'm too lazy for that—or just plain scared the deals will turn to disasters.

Besides, FreeCell is kinda fun, even though I chide myself gently for frittering away my time, and I call the game Folly when I'm in a sort of confessional frame of mind. It's better, though, to my way of thinking, than most of the noisy, gaudy, ugly junk that blares out of the TV. I wonder how those pro sports broadcasters can stand to hear themselves after the first couple of hours. Wouldn't that be just about the most boring damned job in the world, shouting the same asinine cliches over and over, ad infinitum?

I know what you're saying about now. How do I know it's boring if I haven't been watching pro sports on TV? All right, I'm guilty as charged. Please excuse me now. I'm shutting off the computer and the TV, and I'm going for a long walk in the cool evening air, with a candy bar to munch along the way.

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