Trail’s Edge: Age Is Just a Number

Two decades ago I awoke and discovered that I was sixty-five-years old. Old as in old. The first of many monthly social security checks confirmed the unpleasantness. What do old folks do? I decided to find out. There was a senior center in downtown Newton Massachusetts. Despite my easy-to-park Smart Car, all the senior center’s parking spaces were reserved for the disabled.

Hunters Woods Trails Edge - Reston, VA

            After my block-long hike back to the center I found it to consist of a small lobby, a billiard room, a meeting room, and several small rooms one of which had a table upon which sat a chess set. A smiling shadowy figure, reminiscent of the grim reaper, welcomed me.

            I fled determined to defy old age.

            For twenty years I have done so. I play senior basketball, even pickle ball, I have learned a foreign language. I have compiled a genealogical pedigree with 50,000 shady ancestors. I joined a writing group and have self-published three short novellas. All to keep one step ahead of the grim reaper that I met at the Massachusetts senior center twenty years ago.

            Recalling that unpleasant experience, it was with some trepidation, that I accepted an invitation from a retirement center, not to be confused with a senior center, to present a chapter of my upcoming memoir that I am presently struggling to complete.

            The Hunters Woods at Trail’s Edge Retirement Community located in Reston, Virginia is not for old people. It is populated by active, vibrant retirees who, like myself, are convinced that our best days are yet to come.

           Rather than the grim reaper, I was met by attractive, bubbly, yet overworked Diane Eades, the Director of Memory Care. Ms. Eades, a former elementary school teacher is affectionately known as the “DJ” . She has two dogs but her two favorite people are children and, get this, Old People.

 Diane Eades – Director of Memory Care

            To arrive at the spacious audio-visual room we passed an arts and crafts room, and a surprisingly inviting library. Following the presentation, I was able to meet a number of the residents and discovered what I already knew, that each of them, of us, has a story to tell.

            But the best was yet to come. As I was about to leave, I extended my hand to Diane who refused it but gave me a big hug instead. A HUG! ME! You've seen my bio photo. Who would hug someone like that?