I currently know more than I’d ever wanted to about Gout, Medicare, menu changes at Cracker Barrel, and my new friend Linda’s misbehaving grandson.
It’s not news that I have a thing for old people. I just gravitate to them naturally.
My husband often says he rescued me from a life that mimicked that of a retirement home resident. He’s not wrong.
While I’ve always enjoyed time with the grandmas or grandpas in my life, related or not, things amped up when I relocated from Pennsylvania to North Carolina on the hunt for a new beginning. I moved back in with my parents, as a 27-year-old, just after they’d moved to the heavy-on-retirees area of Pinehurst, NC.
In no time at all, I leaned into the lifestyle of a 60-year-old while living in the body of a 27-year-old. It was delightful!
Well, maybe too delightful. After nine months of driving 17 in a 35 and reaping the rewards of my parents’ senior discounts, my mom pulled the plug on my plans to leave my belongings in storage forever and make the move “home” permanent. It happened as we were pulling into the Harris Teeter parking lot and, when we passed a parked vintage yellow Cadillac, I said “Oh, Mrs. Byrd must be here!”
My mom took a beat before firmly announcing, “You have GOT to get out of here and find some people your own age.”
Wait now, what?
Within months, I had moved an hour north to Raleigh on the hunt for more age-appropriate friends. I did not go quietly, but I did go.
I never gave up my love for the more senior set, however.
I spent a weekend every month traveling with my parents’ camping group, all decades older than me but happy to have me along just the same. Every other year, I’d hop on a senior-heavy cruise ship with my parents to explore the ports of Europe. Often, I was mistaken for a crew member and gracefully handled requests for help with a heavy bag, navigating the shipboard email, or assistance with managing a set of tour bus stairs.
While those days are long gone, I am still drawn to a more senior crowd though it is a crowd that is quickly nearing “my own age” with each passing year.
My current obsession is a weekly aquatics fitness class that I, perhaps, should have dug a little further into before donning my swimsuit. If I had read the fine print, I might have have noticed the “Senior Friendly” banner listed just above its title: Silver Splash. Silver Splash? Okay, yes. Most people would have seen it right there in the name.
Me? As a mostly retired competitive athlete, I still equate gold, silver, and bronze with medals, so I assumed “Silver” referenced the difficulty level rather than the color of one’s hair.
An honest mistake (Editor’s note – really?!).
As I left the locker room for that first class, I was indeed surrounded by a bevy of silver-haired ladies (and a couple of men). There was no time to turn back as the pod swallowed me up and led me straight to the pool stairs. Within minutes, we were taking slow steps across the pool, as a group, while John Denver blasted from the poolside speakers.
It was delightful.
I had wanted to try an aqua-fitness class for years in an effort to find something challenging but low impact. This checked off the latter but didn’t quite reach my desired difficulty level. Still, when class was over, I was encouraged to come back the following week with several “See you next time’s“ tossed my way. Before I left the parking lot, I added some water shoes to my Amazon cart (may as well look the part) and cleared my calendar.
I am now a regular at Silver Splash and the instructor has offered tips on how to increase the difficulty level for those who need a little more umph. She often offers those tips while looking directly at me with a wave and a wink sending me to a deeper part of the pool. After class, the group typically moves to the oversized hot tub to chat. I have learned to sit near the exit for this cool (but really hot) down as, sometimes, the yammer session extends longer than the length of the actual class.
Every now and then, I take a peek at my fitness center’s calendar to see what other aquatic classes are available, classes that don’t carry the “Senior Friendly” banner. There are several options throughout the week but they come with two glaring problems.
First, those non-senior friendly classes take place much earlier in the day and when I am typically still drinking my coffee.
Second, I’m pretty firmly invested in hearing the latest escapades of Linda’s misbehaving grandson.
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