I have two older brothers and two younger sisters. All of us are happily married for over forty years. (Our youngest brother passed in his sleep a few years ago.)
We use the Signal app to keep in touch. Recently, one brother posted an old picture of himself teaching his younger brother-in-law to ride a motorcycle. Pure 1970s! He added a caption: “I used to be cool.”
Gotta admit, I loved the photo but not the comment. We are aging in an ageist culture. The prevailing mindset views us as past our useful years, that our fun or meaningful times are behind us. And it’s way too easy for us retirees to accept rather than confront that prejudice. But if we don’t, who will?
I replied to his post with the suggestion that he change the caption from “I used to be cool,” to “We’ve always been cool.” The fact is our generation has always done – and continues to do – amazing things. My brothers and brothers-in-law served as missionaries and military chaplain in Africa, Russia, Spain, Thailand, and at sea. Among the ten of us there are three teachers, two nurses, a librarian, nuclear power plant engineer, church organist, a parttime school bus driver…
Well, okay, not everything we’ve done is all that cool.
We had the opportunity to study the Liberal Arts – a tremendous blessing that’s become more and more difficult to pursue today. Among us we’ve earned six masters degrees, a PhD, and numerous professional certifications.
We are world travelers. Artists and musicians. Several excellent fishermen. And one lousy one who keeps trying anyway.
That would be me.
Now, in ways too numerous to count, our retirement years are as vibrant, fun, and “cool” as any other times of our lives.
So a few days later, I posted a mini-essay pointing out a few of those amazing, cool life experiences we share. Here’s what I wrote. I hope it sparks thoughts of your own reasons for pride, satisfaction, and motivation.
What cool looked like in 1973.
(AI gave us red hair. We’re all actually dishwater blonds.)
We are the generation that came of age in the Age of Aquarius. We danced at First Avenue before the world knew Prince. We rode and repaired motorcycles. Wore miniskirts and bell bottoms and our hair down to our shoulders. Watched members of Congress pick our draft numbers on live TV and rocked with the Monkees every Monday and Batman on Wednesdays. Nearly wore out the Beatles’ White Album. We watched classmates head to Vietnam and a president resign in disgrace. We spoke to an operator to make long distance calls. Made those calls at night to keep the cost down. We witnessed Armstrong walk on the moon. The Challenger disintegrate.
We sang in choirs and played in pep band. Learned the piano and guitar and how to handle a stick shift. Ran hurdles at the state track meet. We’ve created jewelry, thrown and glazed pottery, led thousands in song, preached to presidents and kings, and quietly counseled homesick sailors standing watch at midnight in the middle of the Mediterranean. Delivered medicine and babies in tribal Africa. Taught and cared for children in schools and Bible camps. Raised our children and kept them safe in Thailand, Spain, Côte d’Ivoire, Russia. Showed them how to be resilient, to hate injustice, to pray.
We are travelers. We paint, restore violins, rebuild airplanes, weave thread and yarn into works of shimmering beauty. Jazz piano. J S Bach. Blues harmonica. We enjoy wineries and small venues. We camp out, build bonfires, bake bread and make pies so delicious that friends literally applaud. Know how to take a proper sauna. Help raise our grandkids.
We fish. Kayak. Lift weights. Spend time together. Care for each other. Pray for each other.
We are – and have always been – pretty darn cool.
The start of our world travels. A mission trip to Togo, West Africa, 1991.
