The Crested Saguaros in Tucson. Winchester Mansion in San Jose. The Redwoods. Bald Eagles in Alaska. This starts my fuckit list.
My list is long.
I turn 50 in December. I rushed through a lot of my life to get here apparently. To ” retire”?
It wasn’t that long ago some of us children were taught to get that one “good job”, work it for 20 or 30 years then “retire “. I started working before high school. Retirement equaled a lump of money, a Hawaiian shirt and a motorhome.
But not long after that retirement was dinner at 4:30 buffet then Jeopardy and bed with a glass of water…?
On a recent trip to Gettysburg I saw bus loads of “retirees” slowly making their way with the herds. It didn’t make me wish I was with them. It made me question what retirement really looks like in 2018.
I know plenty of older people who ” retired” only to go work again out of boredom. Welcome to Walmart folks!
I ” retired” after 24 years as a Cosmetologist and was nowhere near done working in this society! I just saw a Betty White tribute and at 96 she makes me feel like I’ve never worked a day in my life!
So why wait for a bucket list ???
“Oh we vacation.”
I hear that a lot. To different places or the same spot ? Going to “the river” or “the lake “every summer till I die isn’t appealing to me. Going to ALL the rivers or lakes ? Now we are talking.
Its exciting to me to experience new foods and sights and smells and people and ideas. How do you ever know you have had the best pizza if you never travel?
Some people are fine with a limited roaming area. I’m not.
What if I don’t make it another 20-30 years? Nothing is guaranteed except it WILL end.
So the excuses are always :
Yeah exactly…. what if?
What if I said really loud …
I HATE BEING THE DOG TIED TO THE TREE!
I am that dog who started out nice but grew meaner as time and lack of a friendly safe face or a place to wander wore on.
I once was willing to let a stranger close but now snarl because I no longer trust . I no longer wag my tail as you approach with that sing song tone. It makes my empty stomach turn.
I wait because…I’m forced to. Told to. Wait, it’s for someone’s twisted visual comfort because that’s where the dog has always been.
See, over time the rope gets worn, the friction and the heat frays….one final angry yank forward breaks off into tumbling freedom!
Fuck it. Why not?
Especially when you are, like me, running right next to your pack, your road dog , your fellow fed up, hard working, hard digging, shade mate who shared that bowl of warm water under that fucked up tree when no one else was around. Who’s rope snapped at the same moment and yelled “don’t look back!”
My life partner, my real, my everything and I are ready to head out to explore our combined fuck it lists.
Not seeking approval. We granted it already.