My last tent

Just back from a hiking/back-pack trip with my son on the Appalachian Trail. 

It was the most physically challenging thing I’ve done as an adult for years, and I even skipped one 6-mile hike from and back to our base camp (that my son noted was the most challenging of all).

The trails chosen were “only” rated as moderately difficult.

But between the 5-mile ascents/descents, uneven terrain, and carrying 40+ pounds of gear and food to set up our base camp on Shinning Rock, it was clear early on that my training prior was inadequate.

It was in the mid-to-high 30s and low 40s through the night and early am.

Fire-pits weren’t permitted.

Sunset was about 730 pm each day, and it remained dark until sunrise at approximately 7:30 am.

Trying to not urinate for the 12 hours wasn’t possible.

However, I significantly delayed venturing out from our two person tent the first night because 1). I was too scared of the dark and 2). I wasn’t even sure I could get up to stand!

It was also “interesting” trying to dig 6-inch holes in nearly frozen ground to poop each day.

I have nothing but respect for those that have done much longer portions of, or even completed, the Appy Trail.

Honestly, it was an adventure that I was glad to see end, but my son and I shared many great laughs/discussions along the way, and it will definitely be a life-long memory.

I plan to do some hikes in the future, but only from and back to my home, or a lodge.

It’s been years since I did any tent camping.

It won’t be years until I do again.

I won’t be doing it again 😂.

My status pen and some smiles

My wife is changing jobs, within the same organization next week, and her current team threw her a “going away” party.

She showed me a gift from her team.

It was a Montblanc pen.

It caused me to, almost immediately, reminisce and smile.

Back in the 80s, Montblanc pens seemed to be in most every male physicians top shirt pocket.

I bought one, I’m sure, because I was trying to “keep up with the Joneses.”

Montblanc pens were comfortable and wrote smoothly; favorable attributes in a time when an incredible amount of writing was required for documentation (electronic medical records (EMRs)  did not become significantly utilized until the mid-to-late 2000s).

But truthfully, I rarely used mine because I always thought the refill cartridges were too expensive (and that recollection is what initially made me smile)!

Obviously, we don’t use pens nearly to the same degree anymore, so the same ink cartridge has been in my Montblanc pen for years and I prefer Gelly Roll pens (which appeared around 1988) now, when a need to write arises.

But for some reason, I felt a strong need to reach into my fancy-pen stash to show my wife my status pen from the 1980s, when she showed me her Montblanc (she didn’t know I owned one).

But after, when I thought about how ridiculous that need to “keep up with the Joneses” was, it made me smile again.

From congratulations to are you bored yet?

As previously discussed, when you first tell folks you retired their standard reply is “congratulations.”

It took awhile to not feel awkward in replying, but my standard response now is to just to say “thank you.”

But when you run into some of the same people, now that it’s been 5 months, a few ask, “are you bored yet?”

However, it hasn’t taken any time at all to feel comfortable responding to this question: “absolutely not.”

While much has been written regarding why this occurs for some people (loss of work identity, structure, socialization, purpose, etc.) it seems that keeping my answer as simple as possible helps to bring an end to this line of questioning, although I’m always happy to go into more depth for anyone sincerely interested in discussing.

Given the ability to spend more time with family and friends, pursue leisure activities, pleasure reading, explore new interests/hobbies, volunteerism, etc., it’s really a shame that some feel bored.

I’ll just continue to document my thoughts for anyone who happens to end up at this site.

5/12th of my gap year?

I’ve been retired for 5 months.

All’s going great.

I’m well rested, have read many books, have exercised a lot, have traveled, have improved both my golf and pickleball skills, and have done a few home projects, to date.

My wife told me she has jokingly referred to me as being on a gap year, when some work colleagues have asked how my retirement was going.

Most define the gap year as a period of time dedicated to personal growth, gaining new skills, exploring other interests, and travel, usually between high school and college, or between college and graduate school.

Although, reportedly, gap years “started to gain significant traction in the 1980s and 1990s in the United States,” it was a concept that I, somewhat regrettably, never considered back in the day.

Over the years, I’ve met many young adults who have done a gap year, have both marveled at and, occasionally, have even been envious of some of their global life experiences, while also questioning if I would have had “the guts” to do many of the non-traditional and adventurous things they pursued at such a young age.

I finished high school at age 17 and was 30 by the time I finished college, medical school, family medicine residency, and a geriatric fellowship.

I immediately started practicing and retired at age 65.

I’m totally fine with her telling folks this is my gap year…just delayed taking it for 44-48 years.

Honestly, I suspect I’ll also be fine if she needs to say my gap years, beginning in 7 months from now.

Senior Citizen!

It was no issue signing up for the mature driving course.

The accepted definitions of mature includes “those who are over the age of 18, or 21.”

I’m planning to audit a class or two starting in January at our local state university.

I’m committed to being a lifelong learner and have always completely agreed with a quote attributed to John Quincy Adams: Old minds are like old horses. You must exercise them to keep them in working order.

According to the university academic calendar, the registration for “Senior Citizen Audits” begins at 3:30 pm on January 9th, in person, at the registrar office.

Senior Citizen!

The most common definition is “an older adult, especially one who is age 65 or older,” and I’m of this age.

However, I would prefer to present, in person, to hand in my registration application for an “Older Adult Audit.”

I’ll eventually “get over” the verbiage being used, I’m sure…possibly even by January 9th!

Could have played some ”free” golf!

Just finished doing the 6-hour Florida Safety Council-Mature Driving Course.

The cost was minimal-only $12.50.

I could have taken it over ten-years ago, since eligibility starts at age 55+.

However, I doubt I would have committed to the 6-hours, until now.

It had nine mandatory sections, and you could not advance to the next section until the countdown timer, for each section, was completed.

I passed the final exam.

Haven’t told her yet, but know my wife will be so proud!

My car insurance premium will be decreased by close to 10% for the next three-years (you can call your carrier to find out what your rate reduction would be prior to starting).

At my current rate, the three-year savings is approximately $500 or about $163/year (taking the cost of the course into account).

Man…the things I could have done with the extra dough!

Could have played 3-4 rounds of golf/year with the $163, basically (in my mind) for “free,” depending on the course, the time of the day and the season of the year.

😏.

See-one, do-one, teach-one

Just got back from visiting my daughter and her husband, both of whom are in their 3rd year as Veterinarians.

Neither did a residency after Vet school.

They’re doing well and have acquired significant experience in a short time.

I went to medical school, and did residency, in the see-one, do-one, teach-one era.

I always enjoyed procedures.

Prior to doing, however, there was always a sense of anxiety, apprehension, and questioning of my ability to perform whatever procedure was clinically indicated.

But, the procedure typically ended with, “that was a lot easier than I thought,” as I transitioned to doing more of the same alone, or teaching colleagues when an opportunity arose.

Medical students and residents now keep a careful log of the number of a procedure they have observed, prior to be signed-off to, eventually, perform.

The number required to observe varies, but is much greater than one.

I had no such documentation requirement.

My daughter and son-in-law are doing some amazing surgical procedures, many of which they’ve done after previously observing only one, or in the case of some emergencies, having been talked through by a colleague who was at a remote location or after quickly watching an instructional video.

It reminds me of my medical school and residency days from the 80s.