Greetings All:Yes, bless me readers for I have slacked - it's been too long since my last confession, er, submission.
A visit to Chip, data madness with the beginning of school and just plain inertia are all at fault.
So what I have decided to do for now is to submit the first chapter of a possible book, Cosmic Flux (or Boomer Retirement), and ask for your reaction. Hopefully I will be able to get something together concerning Gini closing her business of 25 years and post that soon.
So......
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The day started with my stepping on Gini’s earring stud that she had lost and given up for recovery. I always like these moments of joy and surprise especially when my serendipitous shuffling makes me out to be a hero.
“Oh my god! That’s it! Where did you find it? Oh – I love you!”
My response no doubt was a single entendre for sexual favors that was met with joi d’earring that echoed with promise and delivery.
The only problem was that it was so early in the day. That meant subsequent events could not top this … and perilously on the list was our trip to the NH Retirement System in Concord, NH to file papers at 10AM. Oh well.
Now let it be said and briefly debated that the cup that is either half this or half that has holes in it anyway. Like those math problems with flow rates involving hoses and drains and suspect liquids in arcane containers. No sooner do you get the idea that you might be able to calculate whether it is filling or draining when the person from whom you borrowed the hose drops by and casually asks for it back. So what cup were we talking about?
Oh yeah, the loving cup of retirement. So if it is a reward then is it about being tired and having done so well I get to get tired all over again? Or are we talking treads and mileage here? Sometimes I think anecdote is just a Rorschach for babel. One thought leads to itself and any sensibility must be muscled from the reader.
Okay – we were going to file retirement papers and Gini’s life was missing one less stud. The paperwork had been completed the day before as an exercise in maturity and planning. But – but we forgot it had to be notarized twice. This was meant as a fail safe that my worst enemy was not surreptitiously terminating my career or that he nor I had lured a surrogate spouse into being my beneficiary. It is times like this that make me marvel at ‘the powers that be’. So we had decided that we would be at the bank at 8:30 so as to have plenty of time for the 40 minute drive to Concord and our 10:00 rendezvous.
Well the bank was thinly staffed and we had to go to a second bank. Usually during such incidents my demeanor is often confused with a colicky infant and everyone must pay! Luckily I was still reeking with maturity from the previous day.
Somehow James Joyce could make an entire novel out of this day articulating each moment and suspending thought and intention. However, oblivious to the drive, my next recollection is finding the NHRS building with our notarized documents carefully tucked in my organized folder. Car after car was swinging and wending to the same location obviously reminiscent of Woodstock. I wondered if they gave lollipops or brown acid upon successful completion of the document submission. Well we were sure gonna find out.
The waiting area was bursting with budding retirees and soon-to-be-heckled-by-his-lordship-due-to-his-hanging-around-the-house spouses. That is until we sat down and the room systematically emptied in about 74 seconds as NHRS staff emerged like cuckoo clock anime beckoning everyone but us.
“Was it something I said” drew a spontaneous chuckle from the receptionist in her can-I-take-your-order cubicle.
The next beckoner emerged but seemed hesitant as we assumed it must be our turn.
“Are you here for the Spring Fling?” was her attempt at evoking the secret password from us. Our eventual nodding and spirited “Yes” was backgrounded by my thought that we must look so young we must be here at the wrong time and the wrong place.
“Duggan” brought a quick check of the potential beckonee checklist and a smile. Hoping we were not being led to the Group W bench we followed. Obviously NHRS had heard about the fact that during my eighth grade parties’ Lady’s Choices no one would ask me to dance. Eventually my female classmates conspired to enact one of the beatitudes from the Sermon on the Mount and dutifully appointed someone to dance with me whenever the situation arose henceforth. NHRS, in its compassion, invited us to sit in the buzzing room with the six tables in a “C” bursting with NHRS staff and individuals/couples reveling in retirement pubescence.
We could sit at the table with everyone else but we would have to pretend we belonged since staff were still unavailable at this time. This allowed observation of notary stamps (My god we could have had it done here!); overheard instructions on how to fill out the forms and what the form was about and just general brouhaha.
Then it was over.
Our documents were filled out less one social security number. Easily complemented. Our documents were already notarized. Our questions were noted and answered…and we were done.
As we left Woodstock I blurted something about getting a Bloody Mary. This was again met with a spontaneous chuckle. This time from a couple who had been sprung and flung in stereo as they were both leaving the teaching profession. Resident districts and mutual acquaintances were exchanged and then TTFN.
It was 10:10.
Gini was always good for an agenda. We could shop, pay bills, shop, consume, shop or buy things. Buying gas won with a coffee chaser at a café on Main Street. Ah - $3.29.9 a gallon – what a bargain. Ah - $8.20 for cappuccini and cake. Ah – we only have five dollar bills and change. Let’s renegotiate for the cappuccini. Okay, so we waited a half hour. I am sure that we were eventually viewed as paying customers.
Meanwhile we could not shake the feeling that we were recovering something-or-others from our bureaucratic experience. Had an era ended? Was this Kahoutek-like and the glitzy comet tail was just a rumor? I am not even 60 yet and the acts of retirement have already ruined my life.
GA (Gini’s Agenda) led us to a parking lot near downtown and a movie theater that we had web-investigated during our mature phase from yesterday. Having recently enamored myself with John McDonald’s Travis McGee I could crinkle up in the front seat, open the windows to enjoy the summery day and wait for Gini to find an antique spoon/cup for her college roommate’s newly born grandchild.
Now I have been writing this like someone would be reading it. So let me tell you briefly about our college roommates. My college roommate married Gini’s college roommate. Isn’t that just wonderful? Luckily they are still married so it is wonderful. We are godparents to their daughter and we are all part of an extended family called the Von D’Lucci family. So what do you think? Should we continue with our lunch in Concord, NH or do the Rorschach babel boogie?
Well….
Lunch was uneventful save for the spew of children that flooded the area where we would place our order. We made the mistake of looking at the menu before ordering, allowing this confluence to erupt.
The mothers all ordered draft beer along with pizza and sodas. Modern motherhood prescribes reason and tolerance. Gini was in one thousand percent agreement.
Sequestering ourselves at a street side window allowed us to view the anomalies that bespeak humanity in Concord. Some were sitting on the curb as others attended; others haberdashed on their lunch hour and still more begged the imagination. Thankfully the ham, roasted pepper, artichoke heart pesto medley on six grain bread went down well with Sam Adams on tap. Gini continues to espouse her love for white pizza especially when it was this good.
GA had noblesse obliged to view Shine a Light, Martin Scorsese’s Rolling Stones concert film showing at the new theater in town. It was a private showing in stadium seating with plush seats that leaned back and a sound system that rivaled the world imagined by Aldous Huxley. And could it be more empathetic than to be regaled by geriatric rockers as a Doppler effect for our retirement entente? Giving full credence to Einstein’s relativity we contexted that the Beacon Theater in NYC (site of the concert) was a mind blowing experience and just because we knew the words from forty five years of mimicry could not dim our enthusiasm for this cinematic experience. Long live rock and roll!
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