A Study in Geriatrics

April 2024

My mother used to tell me that “you shouldn’t throw stones, when you live in a glass house.”  Indeed, a wise piece of advice.  Just so we are all on the same page here, someone throws symbolic stones at another person’s metaphorical glass house, generally by pointing out their faults or shortcomings.  In doing this, they risk having their own vulnerabilities exposed. 

Essentially, this proverb warns against acting hypocritically, and encourages self-reflection. It’s kind of an old and tired cliché, which goes well with what I am pondering today.  Now, I am loathe to violate my mother’s advice.  But today I’m going to do it anyway. My glass house already has many broken windows!

It’s April and my wife and I just got back from a month in Florida. Living in Michigan, you need an escape plan to get out for a while, if you can. Climate change has really made Michigan lose its winter appeal. Come January, there is a general exodus of people headed south.  Hence the term, “Snowbirds”.

Michigan used to be known as a “Winter Wonderland”.  In the days of my youth, it lived up to that motto. Lots of snow and just cold enough for it to stick around so you could enjoy it. At least it was pretty.  But now it’s more of a winter “Monochromaticland”. Grey, damp and gloomy. So, we have been heading south for well, many years now. And Florida is about as far south as you need to go to assure yourself of the proper weather.  Even in March. 

We have learned that a month is about the right length of time for our escape, and that March is the right month. That way you get a little dose of winter to remind you what you hate, then you leave, and when you return it’s almost time for spring. Which can either come in April, May, or June in Michigan, depending upon the year. 

As far as Florida goes it’s ok. We go to Naples. Which if you are not a geography expert, lies on the Gulf of Mexico, about as far south as you can go on the west side of Florida and still be in a city. The Everglades are a mere 50 miles further south. 

Naples is a city too.  But goes from sort of a sleepy, sprawling place with about 20,000 permanent residents out of season, to over 350,000 during winter peak. That is a massive change! Other than an influx of seasonal workers that come for employment in the service industries, it is generally all evacuees, like my wife and me.  People fleeing the cold and seeking the sun.  And largely, these refugees are of the same demographic.  What I mean by that is, that they are old. Most are really old.  Making Florida the place where old people stereotypes come true!

Yes, senior citizens are everywhere. And the place is essentially designed to accommodate them. My son worked and lived in Naples for a time.  Serving these retirees by working at a golf shop.  He said there is a saying that the locals use.  It states that the visitors to Naples are either “Newlywed or nearly dead”. I have found this to be quite true. 

This influx of people in their golden years makes it a fun place to be an observer.  To watch and to listen. Now don’t get me wrong, I do this with a great deal of respect and admiration.  And by the way, my wife and I are not spring chickens.  But I bet we brought down the average age every place we went. Yet, there are just some things that make me chuckle. So please take this commentary in an amusing way. After all, I’m just poking fun at my peeps!

The first thing you notice is the traffic.  No one, other than young people, is in any hurry.  The speed limit generally feels like it’s 10 mph lower than the posted sign.  The traffic is a nightmare anyway, with so many people out and about. Stop lights are a truly frustrating event.  Sometimes it takes cars what seems like forever, to get going when the light turns green. And to run through a yellow light?  No way!  All of this is likely a good thing.  These people are surely compensating for a lack of driving skills. So, I am quite certain they are saving lives.  

We typically go out for dinner almost every night.  And this can be quite memorable.  Firstly, we generally eat dinner at 6:30 or 7:00. Prime time almost everywhere else.  Here we do it so we can miss the crowd.  People in Naples, on average, eat their evening meal at 5pm.  Maybe earlier!

That is not that crazy, but at that time the menus are laden with stuff that you might not see anywhere else. The dreaded “early bird” specials.  Liver and onions are on the menu everywhere. Meatloaf is always one of the specials.  Casseroles abound.  Fruit salads.  I even believe I saw a McOrgan at McDonalds! No, not really.  But indeed a good marketing idea.

But it’s not just the foods that make a meal an event at a restaurant for the geriatric set.  If you watch and listen, they are all seemingly obsessed about the bill.  Scrutinizing it with Scroogelike determination, not wanting to waste a farthing.  If it is a group meal, someone often uses a calculator to divide it up, to the penny!  Making certain that no one gets off without paying their exact share. The “I saw you take an extra roll!” kind of thing. 

And leftovers?  No one leaves a morsel on their plates.  People take everything that’s left, often including salt and pepper packets.  There is nothing wrong with frugality, but this seems mildly irrational. These are generally wealthy people.  Or people that can, or could, afford the best of things.  Or to maybe leave behind the butter packets. Maybe even a tip for your server!  Again, I am generalizing, but if you go to Naples, it is because you can afford to go there.  There are much less expensive options in Florida, that is for sure.

On a golf course, you really get to see a lot of aging stereotypes, all in one place.  Almost every player is a gray haired, hard of hearing, paunchy, balding old dude with poor eyesight.  They can never seem to find their ball, even if it is lying in the middle of the fairway. Either theirs or yours. They often find a ball that is not their own, hit it, and go on their merry way.

When you interact with them, they are generally overly conversational.  Almost every one of them has a joke to tell you.  One you can’t make sense of, or they forget the punchline.  They especially like to talk about the horrific state of their golf game, how good they once were, or the weather.  Most of them wear a jacket when it’s 85 degrees with 90% humidity. Along with black shoes, high socks, and nipple high pants. What really gets you is the groans you hear every time they get into, or out of, a golf cart. It’s like they are all rehearsing for an Advil commercial.

At the beach, you’re certain to see a geriatric speedo or two. Or the dreaded two-piece, with a tattooed, elderly hipster revealing far too much about the impacts of aging and gravity on the human body.  You avert your eyes but can’t help but glance.  Generally, these glimpses are poorly timed, catching the conspirator bending over to pick up a shell. The result being nightmares for weeks.  While I admire their courage, I question their self-awareness.

Grocery store visits provide another focus group in geriatric behavior.  No one can seem to park in between the lines, or park so close to your car you can’t even open the door. They love waiting for the closest spot, blocking everyone else.  Just sitting there, for what seems like forever, even if no one appears to be leaving these prime spots anytime soon. 

Once they get into the store, the real fun begins.  Invariably, these aged examples of inconsideration stand in the middle of the aisle with their cart, blocking everyone else without even realizing it.  Or without giving a shit!  They might spend 5 minutes looking for the Karo syrup, or Metamucil, while standing there staring at it.  And then when they do get to the checkout, they often pay with a check.  Taking a Cricket match worth of time to write it out.

In the neighborhood we live in, there is a mix of all ages.  Most are lovely people.  But there are some stereotypical exceptions.  You occasionally run across the ultimate examples of grumpiness.  Yet, when you talk to them about it, they deny being so. It seems like some older people are just always pissed off.  And they want to make certain that you’re clear about that. I watched several of our neighbor’s howl at people to get off their lawn, or shout at walkers to get a damned haircut. These aging grinches seem to need to proudly express 80-years of pent-up rage.

I guess all of this is somewhat self-explanatory. Getting old is a privilege but it isn’t always a pleasure.  Despite how thrilling retirement sounds when you're young, it often does not meet your naïve expectations once you get there.  Especially if you were planning on spending every waking moment of it relaxed on a hammock, or drunk and partying on a cruise. Or maybe running around naked, chasing your randy and lascivious spouse.  Not gonna happen!  Generally, you wind up naked alright, but in a kiddie pool, trying to stay cool while basting in your own urine.

I guess that elderly folks have a few things to bitch about and have earned their eccentricities. They are exercising their God given rights.  Given they wake up five times a night to go to the bathroom, shuffle around with the aches and pains of arthritis, and spend a significant portion of their disposable income on food and litter for cats that piss on their beds. Each afternoon falling asleep in their chair drooling while watching Gunsmoke. They deserve a frickin’ break. 

It makes your golden years have a whole new meaning when all the gold you have is the color of your urine, or the stain it creates on your boxers.  It can make retirement a long, drawn-out frustration festival.  Frequently, with no release and no control. So, you become the stereotypes I described. With all the habits and quirks that go along with it.

So, you know what?  It’s all good!  Take your time on the roads and at the grocery store.  Enjoy your meal and your leftovers. Even the stolen ketchup and sugar packets.  Make your buddy pony up for every penny he owes you at the bar.  Go naked on the beach if you want.  Play my ball on the golf course, it’s all yours!  You’ve earned it.

As for me, I guess I need to think about that old saying again.  Remembering my mom’s reminder, not criticizing others for shortcomings that I also possess. Or that I might someday acquire. Cause I’m rapidly headed there!  I hope my self-awareness descends to that low level as I age. It might make it kinda cool, being comfortable in my own skin.  While not giving a shit what anyone else thinks.  Now that’s a destination worth visiting!