Tag: stuff

Fairness

The other day I overheard a young woman loudly state, while involved in a heated conversation with what I can assume was her mother, that she deserves to be happy. She followed it up by emphatically stating that it is her “Constitutional right” to be so. I wanted to jump in so badly and offer that the pursuit of happiness is mentioned only in the Declaration of Independence and nowhere mentioned in the Constitution, that the only promise implied was the pursuit, and that it was only meant as an assurance from a young Country that it was committed to freedom for all individuals, without persecution, to pursue God-given (inalienable) rights, one of them being happy, which in and of itself cannot be guaranteed.

But common sense and experience prevailed. I inferred her age and concluded that not only would I not make any kind of meaningful impact on the conversation, but also that it is not entirely her fault. She was a twenty-something, a member of a generation that has been raised on validated feelings, cancel culture, banned history, and soft truths delivered in a manner as not to offend delicate sensitivities. I kept to myself, knowing that while I meant well, I would probably come across as an old fart dishing out unsolicited opinions. I could see how the conversation would go. I could even see the ending, the introduction of the concept of fairness.

This is where my concerns for today’s generation lie; the expectation or assumption that life is fair. In the great quest for equity on all fronts, somebody made the bold assumption that all things, including happiness, would be evenly distributed. They want life to be fair.
Newsflash: LIFE.IS.NOT.FAIR. Don’t expect it to be and you will never be disappointed.

I have had a hard life. Many challenges have risen to meet me on the road of life, and I have had my share of hardship. My life has been a struggle to say the very least. But that does not mean I haven’t experienced happiness. I have had many moments that I can recall, and they are etched in my brain. But they were brief and fleeting. In between those moments was everything else that I, and countless other people have to do every day.
Such as dealing with people and things that I did not want to but had to.
Working jobs that I hated because people depended on me and there was no plan B if I lost my job.
Biting my tongue and not punching the fucking shit out of somebody because I either worked for or with them, or I feared going to jail.
Facing the truth even when it was painful.
Allowing my children to feel hurt and sad because I knew that by fixing their problems for them, they wouldn’t learn anything.
I’ve had heartache, illness, financial problems, and relationship issues. There are so many examples, but I’ve made my point. I and countless others have survived all of those things and so much more and didn’t develop a victim mentality or lament the lack of fairness. If you get how life works, you do it because that is what life is: survival. Getting through all the crap in order to enjoy something, anything, that makes you smile…that’s happiness.

Chase it, create a healthy definition, and appreciate it when you have it. Know that you are not entitled to it. And don’t expect to be happy. Because life is not fair.

Not my dog Sam

I have a 4-legged enigma sleeping on my feet right now. He is an adorable 4-year-old English Cocker, brown with big, thoughtful eyes.
He’s not mt dog, he’s my mother’s. I say this tongue in cheek because, while mom and I share a house he is solely and defiantly her dog. It doesn’t matter that I am as responsible for loving and caring for Sammy (Samuel L. Spaniel, guess who came up with that name), despite his current spot on my feet he usually wants very little to do with me.
It bugs me. A little.
I could dedicate a whole post to how stupid it is that I should let a dog affect my self-image at all, but I won’t. It’s not that he doesn’t like me, he is just unhealthily attached and fixated on my mom. He has been since the day she met him at a breeder’s house on a cold Connecticut morning, 4 hours from home. As she described it, “Of the 6 puppies to choose from this one chose me.” And he still, to this day chooses her. And if she’s not around he then chooses nobody. Even if I’m sitting in the same room.

It’s comical in a way. He snubs me like a mean girl in any High School. And I don’t take it personally, I was joking about that. He will play with me, let me throw his ball and make me chase him to get it back. He is happy to take chicken from my outstretched hand and when it’s dinner time he will come to me. But if mom is out he pouts until she comes home. That is both difficult to deal with and hard to watch. It’s difficult, because, in her absence I have to actually pick him up and put him outside, no exaggeration, to pee. Walks can be more like drags.
It’s hard to watch because when Mom is not around he’s actually sad. It is the worst case of separation anxiety I have ever seen, canine or human.
When I think about what bothers me the most, I think it is that I want a dog of my own. I don’t have a place of my own so I can’t. So the next best thing would be to feel that the dog we have is mine as well. The sad reality is, no matter how much attention I give, how many ear scratches and tummy rubs I give, and how many walks I take him on…he is not my dog.

Except when we are in Florida. Mom is here 6 months a year now and this is the first year I have come to visit. I was pleased to see what a nice place it is, how beautiful the weather is, and how friendly the people are. I was not prepared for the dog that sure looks like Sam, but isn’t. I don’t get it. He is friendly to me, relaxed and affectionate, and when mom goes out he is happy to be in my company. He is so different, it’s quite strange.
I guess he is a Florida dog. I’m different when I’m here as well. I’m not going to try to figure it out. I’m just going to run with it. I’m sure once he comes home in May he will return to ignoring me again.

I’ll just file this under the “go figure” category.

Stoic and didn’t know it

I’ve always desired to live my life by a Philosophy, a theory or attitude as a guiding principle for my behavior. It’s a source of great curiosity to me because, before I really explored my need for this, it felt like I was a protégé without the luxury of a mentor. It was as if I wasn’t leading my own way, but instead I was looking for someone or something to guide me.
Which made me a follower. Which I hate. When it comes to who you are, nobody wants to be a lump of wet clay.
That realization saddened me and served as a revelation as well. I looked hard at things and realized the many ways in which I tried to be someone or something that I was not. It took far too long, but eventually, I developed the ability to be myself. Of course, that presented a whole different set of challenges. “Myself” was not a guy that I wanted to spend time with. I am working on that and it is a challenge that I am not taking lightly. In fact, it is almost entirely what I think, dream, read and write about. I am taking a particularly hard look at where the “follower” in me ends and where the unique individual in me begins. After much investigation, the inevitable conclusion was that I was not living a life and presenting a persona that was consistent with my core beliefs and desires.
In short, I didn’t know who or what the hell I was!

Thus began the most difficult thing I have ever done, taking a searching and fearless look into what really mattered to me. To do so required me to identify every way in which my life was ruled by convention and to challenge it. The good news is I think I have a better idea now. But I wish I knew how I was able to deny myself the liberation of living by my core values and beliefs, my very nature, for so many years of my life. Was I afraid of challenging the status quo?
I didn’t require a great “philosophy of life”. No school of thought or set of principles is going to serve every situation. I believe that what I needed was consistency and I was in search of a means to maintain it.

I’ve learned a lot about myself of late. But learning is not enough. I must embrace what I have learned, live it not shy away from it, and create real growth. As a good start, I am definitely defying convention, the very thing that made me a follower.

For the sake of brevity, I will not list all of the many ways that I have changed my thinking, I just want to touch on one. I always thought that I was complex. Yes, I know, all men say that. But as it turns out I’m very simple. Not Carl from Sling Blade simple, simple in that I don’t need or want much. I like things to be manageable, regardless of how difficult situations become. Simple to understand and consistent in what I stand for. Simple as defined by the familiar colloquialism “you get what you see.” If only there were a school of philosophy that embraced simple existence, harmonious and non-intrusive. One for those who want to live with the earth, not just on it.

Imagine my joy when I (re)discovered Stoicism! There IS a Philosophy that I CAN use and adhere to as I work towards the life I crave. Stoicism is actually quite simple.

“It’s not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.”

― Epictetus

I have been a Stoic and didn’t know it!

Inventory

Having gone on a retreat/hiatus of sorts, I have had some much-needed down time to decompress and do some thinking. The deep thinking predictably led me to assess my life and do a proper inventory. Inventories are difficult and can be painful. If a business owner were to become complacent in the inventory of his goods, he may find that he is in worse off than he thought financially. It works the same way when you inventory your own life. You may not like what you come up with and at that point you are faced with a choice; to accept it as it is or to seek a solution. To seek a solution requires asking questions, and that is where I am at in the process. I began questioning everything.

The first thing major question I addressed was whether I left my job for the right reasons. I had put in 6 months as a Recovery Case Manager working with those struggling with addiction. I loved it and by all accounts I was great at it. Entering a field such as Recovery without a background (educationally or by virtue of being an addict oneself) is difficult and requires a specific skill set and a proven ability to display empathy, understanding, and listening skills. Despite not using my Psych degree since I graduated in the early 90’s, it was a roll of the dice. But the complicated series of events that I call my life qualified me just fine. I became a thorough, relatable, competent and effective Case Manager and I was making a difference.
 But it kicked my physical and emotional ass. Health reasons, physical more than mental, drove my decision. I am immunocompromised due to my Kidney Transplant and I was working in a fucking Petrie Dish. After contracting COVID twice, a stomach flu and a cold that I couldn’t shake for over a month I made the decision. But the job satisfaction aspect nagged at me. If you need to know just ONE thing about me to understand the possible loftiness and intense nature of my statements, know that I am ALL about purpose. I have received the gift of life and have escaped the Bastard known as DEATH more times than any one many should be allowed. I therefore have the attitude of gratitude. If I stopped doing a job that satisfies my mentality of giving back and paying it forward, what am I going to do in its place? 
It didn’t take me long to realize that I am not going to lose that side of me, as I have lost so many other things that gave me joy. Therefore, I resolved that I would continue to volunteer my time and resources to causes that matter to me. That gave me comfort about my decision to leave a job that satisfied my soul. I vowed to research local charities that I could volunteer for; Make-A-Wish, Animal Shelters, Veteran’s causes and Motorcycle groups that focus on charitable rides. Therein would lie my answer.

I was then troubled to realize, after a few weeks of semi-retirement that another question had risen up and begged answering. Why was I not full of that desire to go do all of those things that would adequately fill the void created by leaving my job? Where was that motivated guy? That guy was laying on the sofa, eating junk food, watching TV and not doing anything productive at all. I will cut myself a small break, I wasn’t feeling good. I was still recovering from the virus that made me leave my job. And it was Winter. The cold weather, constant snow storms and lack of sunlight are not my friends. Not excuses but worthy of mention. Still, I was concerned that I was going to fall into a regrettable cycle; lazy, unmotivated, unaccomplished, and lacking purpose.

That is when I decided to head to see Mom in West Palm. I vowed to get moving physically and mentally. To walk, workout, read and write at a pace that I have never before. I have checked all the boxes so far. But to write everything I have come up with is going to take some time, due to the number of questions that I have raised and, thankfully, I have the desire to put to paper.

Fortunately, time is something I now have a lot of.

Question Everything

Question everything. That is where I am now. I do not know how it happened, but the way I look at everything seems to have changed lately. Two things come immediately to mind; it happened quite quickly, and I love what I am seeing. In short, everything is upside down and on its side. As Dr. Venkman so eloquently stated in Ghostbusters…

Things happen that way with me. I have epiphanies, moments in which my eyes suddenly open, my mind shifts, my vision becomes clear, and things suddenly make sense. Not always forever in some cases, but enough to enable insight and encourage change. My most recent epiphany is here to stay. It is not a fleeting thought or a passing fancy that serves to temporarily inspire or provoke thought. Instead, as a result, the world around me presents if I were a young child. A world in which everything is a new and exciting experience.
Somewhere, at some point in the last 6 or 8 months my understanding of countless aspects of life, my own and those of the wonderful world around me, shifted (morphed?) in such a way that I am questioning, with the intent to be and do better, my understanding and perception of everything. To name a few,
Relationships.
Friendships.
Politics.
People.
Family.
Conversations and events old and new.
The world around me and,
My role and purpose in it.

I find myself very motivated by what I am feeling. I feel like I am on the right track. In many ways, I feel like a different person. Where there once stood a man that, while mostly positive, was prone at times to see things in a very cynical and unproductive light, now stands a man that looks at every interaction, recalls every conversation, and replays every situation to assess if there is anything that could be learned from it and what could have been done better? It’s truly a liberating and exciting feeling to experience such an injection of emotional vitality and intellectual stimulation at a time in my life in which I was dreading stagnation and lack of interest in learning or applying anything new.

This, in conjunction with my current deep dive into the Stoic Lifestyle, is giving me the exact boost I desperately craved.
That’s enough for this post, but expect more (I do hope you read it and share it with me) as I share that which is in question, my old take vs the new, and the effect it will have on me as I continue to work towards “better”.

I won’t chase you…


I have become cognizant of something that I have perhaps known about for a long time but not truly aware of its hold on me. I am closed off more often than not. This is not to be confused with friendly; I am very friendly and accepting to all.
Once the walls come down.
But it needs to be stated that my very demeanor unless I know you, suggests the following:
Good luck getting close enough to me where I will allow you to hurt or reject me.

I have been hurt for the last time. I sure hope so, at least. The last one still stings. I let her in. I showed her what was behind the curtain. I dropped my guard and I opened up my life, all the good and the bad. In return, she took my heart, stomped it to a bloody pulp, and gave it back to me in a “to-go” bag. I don’t blame her. Mistakes were made on both sides. Once the “fucking each other senseless” phase began to wane, our incompatibility revealed itself. It wasn’t that we weren’t good for each other, it was that her dark side (which I was properly warned about) emerged and that, combined with her inability to share her life with anyone, drove us apart. The way she did it cut me deep. I took it hard. I thought I had finally found the one and instead I was holding a bloody bag.
It took me quite a while to realize that I was good to her and, despite the heartbreak, it was her loss and not mine. Reconciliation with her occupies zero space in my head. The lingering questions and profound heartache have the full space rented.

A friend of ten years became conspicuously absent from our usual texts and FB exchanges. I checked his profile. He had blocked me. I understand that FB is silly but this was an actual friend. I called him. He didn’t want to talk to me. All I could get from him was that his wife was mad at me (for reasons I still don’t know) and he, being a dutiful husband (or pussy) followed suit to keep the peace. I was furious and I stayed that way for some time. It hurt that a friend that I had a very profound connection with would discard me so easily. I’m mostly over it. It’s now more annoying than painful.

Another friend of more than 10 years, whom I met in a fraternal organization, gradually became standoffish and distant. I came to learn that he was jealous of some recognition I had received. His envy, despite my inclusivity and deliberate humility, was palpable. When it came his turn to succeed me I was complimentay, supportive and genuinely happy for him. He in turn disrepected me publicly in a way that stung as badly as the dagger Brutus plunged into Caesar. I was, and still am as of this writing, very upset with him. Sadly, I’m not entirely sure he knows he did it. He has shown himself to be pompous, arrogant and much disliked so it is feasible to add clueless to this list. But I’m not going to tell him about my humiliation. Because he, like the ones discussed here and any others that may come to mind at a future date, are not WORTHY of my love and friendship.

The new me, the one that places value on myself and is now aware of my worth, will not chase anyone. I will not give of myself to people who are not worthy of what I have to offer. I am a great leader when tasked, a dedicated and loyal friend to the end, and in a relationship I am generous and caring to a fault. I bring a great deal of value to those I care about.

But going forward, you have to be worthy of it. And if you discard it, and me in the process, I will not run after you. I will instead wish you a nice journey.

Change

One of the most hotly debated queries of all time is, “Can a person change?”
It is one of the questions that cause people to compartmentalize, drill down on and sub-categorize to the point of exhaustion. Some distinctions are valid; are we speaking physically?
My answer: Yes of course.
Are we speaking emotionally or spiritually?
Yes again.
Many will disagree on that one, they will inevitably toss out “Nature” and maybe even offer up the Scorpion and the Frog as a backup. Do you know the Scorpion and the Frog?
A Scorpion approaches a Frog on the Riverbank and asks to ride across the river on the back of the Frog. The Frog objects, stating that the Scorpion will sting him and they will both drown.
The Scorpion replies, “That is illogical. If I sting you we will both drown.”
Assured, the Frog complies. Halfway across, the Scorpion stings the Frog. As they both are sinking to their deaths, the Frog asks, “Why did you do that? Now are both going to drown.”
The Scorpion replied, “I’m a Scorpion. It’s my Nature.”

I unequivocally believe that severe mental illness aside, we are all capable of changing how we are. I know this because I did it. I am nothing special, nor have I ever made claim to be. I’m not wealthy, particularly intelligent or clever, nor am I a great problem solver. I do not possess a great secret. I am simply self-aware and free enough (not completely but I’m working on it) of Ego and silly pride to take an unflinching look at myself and realize who I was. It was hard because I perceived myself as an entirely different person than I actually was. That was a tough pill to swallow. But I did it. And I worked on it.
Therein lies my not-so-secret secret.
Hard work and accountability.
Taking the realizations for what they are (have you noticed that few people like the truth anymore because it hurts their feelings?), facing them, swallowing your pride, and actually fucking doing something about it is hard work. It’s unpleasant. Sometimes it hurts.
The work is akin to the 9th step of AA, making amends. You find yourself apologizing to yourself at multiple stages of your existence, asking forgiveness and offering actual amends, as opposed to meaningless apologies.
What do they say? Words are meaningless, Action is what matters. Even in baby steps, forward progress is what matters.

If you can take epiphanies and the subsequent insights and awareness and channel them into doing better then you have made a change. It’s a copout to blame your nature for not reaching your potential. Your nature is what you will be if you don’t want to do the work. Your ultimate self, which I define as the “you” that you can live with, is achievable. We come from the earth. The earth is heavy with clay. Clay can be molded by the hands of man into whatever form we choose.

I’m sure that I will get some blowback on this. I welcome the discourse. Again, I did it. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror for most of my life. I made the decision to take an unflinching look at my life and saw the need for change. The alternative would have been to just accept my behavior and choose to live with it, expecting everyone that I ever interact with between now and the day that I die to just deal with it. Now, I don’t love the guy I see now but I can work with him. All because I decided to go to work. I am hopeful that I will die a man of purpose and substance, not just a guy that people managed to put up with.
I am a work in progress. Slow progress, but progress just the same.

Real

Day 5 in Boca Del Vista. I’m just settling into the notion of relaxing and having no particular place to go. I could get sort of used to this, but if this is retirement then my current sabbatical will be cut short. I need more to do. But the sun is a nice distraction as I try to sort out my life and plan next steps. I hear it is snowing at home right now. Screw. That.

Out of obligation to mom for her hospitality, and out of a need for something to do I took her car to get an oil change today. There is no shortage of places to service cars here, and despite my mom’s insistence on finding the best price I went with a name I knew and found a franchise. She doesn’t believe me that a full Synthetic oil change is 80 bucks no matter where you are, despite the 25 to 50 dollar special they offer online.

I took my time on the 20 minute drive. I left early to allow for misdirection and I just don’t feel like rushing around. I arrived 5 minutes early and pulled into a packed parking lot significantly less organized than Father’s Day in a Tennessee trailer park. I found a space and went in and greeted the amiable-looking fellow behind the counter. Despite making an appointment, he of course couldn’t find me in the system. Once that obstacle was overcome, the car was promptly brought into the service bay.

I’m not sure how the conversation began, but it was revealed that the amiable-looking fellow was a former street racer. Think Fast and Furious 1-172. He seemed to have a moment and he felt compelled to regale me with tales of his former lifestyle; encounters with police, his inability to get insurance later in life, and his near-death experiences. As a gearhead wannabe, I was enamored with the conversation but only dared to offer tidbits dare my lack of knowledge of vehicle technology reveal itself. It was good stuff, and overall it was a tale of redemption. He learned from his wild youth and is now, at 28 years old, managing his own shop. I liked him. I am a fan of the working man.

Soon, we were joined by what I could establish as a regular and two employees. The conversation inevitably turned to politics. There was no abundance of democrats in the room. The conversation was civil but leaned very right, so much that it almost made the moderate conservative in me feel like a liberal. I listened in to gauge how much of a conversation was occurring vs a series of tirades and rants. It was civil. When my opinion was solicited, the new kinder-better-fair and balanced me politely offered some insight and occasionally dissenting talking points to see if they were capable of tolerating. Now I am not a liberal. I lean right but I’m not a Nationalist. I try to see ideas for their merit, not what party originated them. As it turns out, I was able to steer them from attacks and Fox News talking points to a general discussion of the ideas and motivations behind the issues at hand. As it turns out, they were accepting of my input and they themselves were very capable of a civil and tolerant conversation. It was one of those moments that reminds me that we really are basically decent people that all need the same things, we just differ on the details.

Soon, an attendant brought the car around. I paid the invoice and thanked the gents for the great conversation. The amiable-looking fellow said to me on the way out,
“Thanks, Bill from New Hampshire. You’re one of the realest dudes I’ve talked to in my time here.” The others chimed in with agreement. As I pulled onto the controlled chaos known as a Florida Parkway I mused that “Real” is about the best damn thing I could have been called today.

Stoic

Somebody once offered up in conversation that I was “Stoic”. As a guy who considers himself well-versed in language, context, and vocabulary I took it to mean that I have a rather stone-faced demeanor. That is to say that the initial interpretation of the face I presented to the world was indifferent and void of emotion. As it turns out, I wasn’t far off in my understanding of “stoic”. After some research I was then happy to learn that “Stoic” has more than one meaning,
1) A member of the ancient philosophical school of Stoicism.
2) A person who can endure pain or hardship without showing their feelings or complaining. To possess toughness and quiet endurance.
Interesting…I may have been onto something there.

A member of the ancient philosophical school of Stoicism.
I took an interest in Stoicism. I did some more reading and, like everything else in my life pre the great collapse of 2016, I moved on. It didn’t fit my lifestyle at the time. I recently revisited it after reading a fellow blogger. It is now apparent that it aligns perfectly with my current approach to existence. By aligned I mean it was a sledgehammer to the forehead.

A person who can endure pain or hardship without showing their feelings or complaining. To possess toughness and quiet endurance.
If you know me at all, pain and hardship have been omnipresent in my life. I have done my best to roll with it all and to try to convert it into self-improvement and motivation to inspire and help others. I have never complained, I have references. It doesn’t help anything, and nobody gives a shit. But it definitely shows on my face. I can’t count how many times it’s been said to me some variation of,
“when I first saw you I thought you were a jerk. But then I got to know you and you’re actually a good guy.”
I’ve also been told by employers and well-meaning coworkers that my facial expression, gone unchecked, was the male equivalent of Resting Bitch Face. I took it under advisement and made a conscious effort to be aware of it. But the nuts and bolts of it were that my face was saying, Don’t fuck with me, I have had enough and I am not going to give you a chance to hurt or reject me.
That was who and what I had become.
But the result, the fortunate side effect is, and I need to take a temporary break from my adherence to humility is;  yes, I am tough, I have endured a lot of shit and I am stronger for it and ready for more. Bring it the fuck on. So it logically follows that my face, as the window to my wounded soul, will reflect. To reluctantly but necessarily put a smile on it is to embrace the Shakespearian notion of Masks. Everyone, not just thespians, wears a mask to conceal who they really are and try to be someone else.

Stoicism is the approach from which I am existing. It is validating and empowering, more so with every page that I read. It is in synch with my new attitude of minimalism, simplicity, positivity, and adherence to values. It confirms my desire to no longer be the person I once was. At one time I was full of hubris. I wanted to run with the beautiful people. I wanted wealth and influence. I was not ruthless, but I wasn’t a man of true character. I cared less about virtue, empathy, compassion, and benevolence, opting instead for callousness and relative morality. I needed to make a change in order to sleep at night. If you believe that it is never too late to make a change, then change is not only possible but also achievable.

It is not possible if I am to keep your interest, to list all of the tenets and principles that appeal to me about Stoicism but I’ll offer 10 key principles.
Live in agreement with nature.
Live by virtue.
Focus on what you can control.
Distinguish between good, bad, and indifferent.
Take action.
Practice misfortune.
Add a reserve clause to your plan.
Love everything that happens.
Perception is key.
Be mindful.

As an aside, I find it significant and amusing that Stoicism is sometimes referred to as “Supermanism”, considering I have written over 300 posts under the moniker of Superman.

Del Boca Vista revisited

Nothing makes you ask yourself “what kind of an old person am I going to be?” more than spending a few days in a Florida Condo Association. 
I’m visiting Mom at her winter hiatus, God bless her she has earned it, and I am being bombarded with flashbacks of Del Boca Vista. 
Any Seinfeld fans out there? 
I so enjoyed the Seinfeld episodes that featured the delightfully and absurd antics of the retired Senior Citizen. If you’re not familiar, they had great fun with early dinners, over tipping, the political shenanigans of Condo Association leadership and the ever-present busy bodies that everyone kisses up to but secretly fear and despise. In short (or can I still call it that), stereotypes of the retired life. 
After spending 4 days here, I am not so sure that the stereotypes are entirely unearned.
Before I go on, I want to clearly state that I love the elderly. Anyone who knows me can confirm that. When I was a child, I spent as much time as I could with my Grandparents at the Senior Center. My grandmother loved to show me off and once that wore off, I found myself enamored with the wisdom, sage advice and overall attitude of the seniors. Some were grumpy but most were lovely. I spent most of my time with the Veterans and I had earned a middle-school level education of history by hearing the war stories, edited for my age of course.
This fondness of the elderly carried on through High School as I frequently visited shut in neighbors and volunteered at the local senior center. 
In College, my favorite professor was an elderly gent who taught “The Psychology of the Elderly”. I thought the course was eye-opening about the challenges faced by and the particular traits of the elderly. The professor was a charming, youthful old guy and I became very close with him. I truly was saddened by his death. 
I have maintained a healthy interest, and perhaps more importantly, a respect for the old. Having many a challenge to my own mortality, I am aware that reaching old age is a privilege denied to many. Therefore, when given a chance to hear a story, I listen. When a different perspective is available, I take the opportunity to learn it. But I have learned one valuable truth; there are several categories of elderly; among them are the forever young and enjoying life type, the “I do my best to keep up and tolerate life and it’s changes” type, the “I don’t want to learn anything new I’m too old” type, the busybody with the nose in everyone’s business, and the “get the hell off my lawn type”.
In one small development in West Palm, in less than one week, I have met them all. It hasn’t been all bad, many people here are a delight. And then some are tolerable. Some are humorous in an unflattering way. One was bad, in fact there were two.

Sunday I was walking the dog. I was on a paved path, well within common areas, and we walked past a first-floor condo with a screened in Lanai with 2 small yippy dogs. At the sight of us, the small dogs barked their tiny balls off at us, prompting the owner to come out and reprimand me for having the nerve to walk by her unit and upset her dogs. The sheer absurdity threw me a bit and I asked if she was serious. She was. I shook my head in disbelief and walked on, ignoring her fading chirping.
The day after I was again walking the dog and I encountered what appeared to be a pleasant elderly woman walking up and down a row of cars. When close enough I offered a “good morning”. What I received in turn was a angry lecture about “outsiders” who “don’t belong” parking illegally in what I can only assume was in the general vicinity of her guest spot? I shut myself off to it and when she attempted to engage me further I said, “I have absolutely no interest in any conversation about whatever this is” and kept walking. I’m pretty sure I heard a pronounced Hmmmph!
That was the worst I have encountered.
Somewhat less uncomfortable but annoying nonetheless is my mother’s friend who likes to boycott events (big stuff like movie night and appetizers by the pool) to send a message that nobody cares about to someone who doesn’t understand the message or the reasoning behind it. To make it worse, she tries to dictate who can be friends with whom, with the threat of excommunication looming over them if they don’t comply. Why?
But to balance things out, last night I had a cocktail with 2 gents hiding from their wives at the pool and we had an amazing conversation. They were charming, pleasant and enjoyable to talk to. I chose to sip my drink and predominately listen. The military history, the jobs they held (one of the gents was the national distribution manager for the first incarnation of the Cabbage Patch Doll (remember what a sensation that was?). The other was a former executive director of Habitat for Humanity. These gentlemen were a delight to be around. 

They definitely are the cream of the crop of Del Boca Vista. The other are interesting to say the least. My respect for their generation and obvious longevity remains. But the question arises…What kind of old person am I going to be? That’s a whole other post.