This blog takes on F. Scott. After all, he never got a chance to retire*. So, my take on retirement is far more valid than anything F. Scott would have written, ipso facto, and cogito ergo sum. F. Scott can't say that. He can't say anything. He does, however, project well, as his words wer actually paid for and published. That was an achievement. Nothing of his was in print when he died. No book, no blog.
I wish he were here for a "duelling blog". Not to be.
With that out of the way, let's get the broad outline out there:
1. Began employment 1/5/81. (Ronald Reagan became President 15 days later; technically, I obtained employment status in the Carter era).
2. Remained with employer through Reagan, Bush I, Clinton, Bush II---27.5 years.
3. My polling numbers slipped, and so was offered a "package" called "early retirement" which package is now held in an undisclosed location, and contains m_n_y!
List of options now under consideration? Well, in the northeast it is golf season. That is a key piece of information for the retired male golfer. No travel is needed in order to play golf. As a factual matter, my domicile is 0.4 miles from the country club, a place for golfers to congregate, play golf, drink beer, eat unhealthily, and drain out unwanted beer via perspiration, or is it dehydration? No matter.
Option 1. Golf across the street-no travel....a "staycation."
Option 2. Blog-can be accomplished for free, and doesn't take much time.
Option 3. Work out. Can be done at the town gym for $12.50 per month.
Option 4. Wash car.
Option 5. Open mail.
Option 6. Schedule appointments to see infrequently the people that you used to see every day.
Option 7. Buy a pot of flowers, and see if you can keep them alive.
Option 8. Haircut
Option 9. Cook things to eat rather than heat things to eat.
Option 10. Look for work.
OPTION 11. Look for her:
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OK, I'm on my way.
*F. SCOTT FITZGERALD
Born: Sept. 24, 1896
Died: Dec. 21, 1940
Cause of Death: Heart attack
Physician's Notes: The chronicler (This Side of Paradise, The Great Gatsby) and eventual casualty of the raucous Jazz Age missed his junior year at Princeton because of a mild attack of malaria. In 1929 he had a tubercular hemorrhage, and X rays revealed scars from attacks as early as 1919. During the early 1930s, he was attacked by depression, insomnia, and guilt over his wife Zelda's being committed to an asylum. He tried to pass himself off as only a social drinker, while secretly bribing waiters to bring him glasses of straight gin in lieu of water. "I have drunk too much and that is certainly slowing me up. On the other hand, without drink I do not know whether I could have survived this time," he said in 1933. In 1935 he had another flare-up of tuberculosis. Back in the hospital in 1939, he blamed the stay on tuberculosis, but friends suspected alcoholism. Most of his life he suffered from an oversecretion of insulin (hyperinsulinism), which contributed to his need for alcohol. It also resulted in low blood sugar, which explained his craving for CocaCola and heavily sweetened coffee and his near addiction to fudge. In late November, 1940, he had his first serious heart attack. He stopped drinking and stayed in bed to work on his ultimately unfinished novel, The Last Tycoon. Just before Christmas he suffered another massive heart attack and died. At that time, not one of his books was in print. --The People's Almanac
Born: Sept. 24, 1896
Died: Dec. 21, 1940
Cause of Death: Heart attack
Physician's Notes: The chronicler (This Side of Paradise, The Great Gatsby) and eventual casualty of the raucous Jazz Age missed his junior year at Princeton because of a mild attack of malaria. In 1929 he had a tubercular hemorrhage, and X rays revealed scars from attacks as early as 1919. During the early 1930s, he was attacked by depression, insomnia, and guilt over his wife Zelda's being committed to an asylum. He tried to pass himself off as only a social drinker, while secretly bribing waiters to bring him glasses of straight gin in lieu of water. "I have drunk too much and that is certainly slowing me up. On the other hand, without drink I do not know whether I could have survived this time," he said in 1933. In 1935 he had another flare-up of tuberculosis. Back in the hospital in 1939, he blamed the stay on tuberculosis, but friends suspected alcoholism. Most of his life he suffered from an oversecretion of insulin (hyperinsulinism), which contributed to his need for alcohol. It also resulted in low blood sugar, which explained his craving for CocaCola and heavily sweetened coffee and his near addiction to fudge. In late November, 1940, he had his first serious heart attack. He stopped drinking and stayed in bed to work on his ultimately unfinished novel, The Last Tycoon. Just before Christmas he suffered another massive heart attack and died. At that time, not one of his books was in print. --The People's Almanac
