Life as Performance Art

   I seem to have reached the stage in life where I receive fewer invitations to dinner or parties, either by regular mail or e-mail, and far more invitations to have a complimentary meal and listen to a sales pitch for hearing aids or tour a retirement community. Oh, and a sprinkling from financial people who want to sell me an annuity or some other product.
    Thank you, but no thanks. As the Olds always taught, “there is no such thing as a free meal.” That complimentary meal comes at the cost of defending my billfold from someone wanting to sell me something. As for retirement communities, all of that promised fun and keeping busy, probably for the sake of keeping busy, is not my thing.
    One of the communities, this one in Florida, touts itself as being Disneyland for Adults, with all sorts of groups and organizations, fun restaurants, fun free dancing in the village squares, and fun with other people. You see the theme – fun.’  It makes me wonder if they put something in the water to enforce all that smiling and fun.
    Besides, if you have ever met me, do you really think I am the sort of person who would ever fit in at a geriatric compound where smiling is mandatory? I got a telephone call from their sales office, touting all of their fun groups, and asked, “Is there a group for sarcastic and amateur social anarchists?” I guess there must have been something wrong with the connection because the line went dead. I am quite happy they have not tried a second time because they are using up a limited amount of my remaining time.
   I am sure all of that fun had to be better for one’s health than spending the morning watching television, and the afternoon watching Jerry Springer and his ilk, or doing Word Search games. Both activities are usually done alone, if only because no one wants to admit how mind-numbing they are.
     For those who choose it, there is a different way to live that brings us real happiness. I caught on to it when I was in high school where I learned there was a substantial flock of retired Mayo Clinic physicians who were still working. Mandatory retirement came at age 65, but they were still allocated office space, clerical help, and access to the laboratories to continue their research. Most of them leapt at the opportunity. It meant they were still working, researching, writing, and contributing to medical science. It was a good reason for putting on a necktie and suit, carrying a briefcase or doctor’s bag. All that meant they knew they were still very much alive, and still being useful.
     I saw it again when I ran into my English lit teacher. That day, she didn’t have much time to talk because she was on her way to the historical society to give a lecture on the importance of myth and folklore in local history. She was in her mid-eighties and doing something she loved. A few years later, it was when Ed, a retired astrophysicist at Green Bank Observatory in West Virginia, decided he wanted to learn how to play the banjo. He went straight to the best, taking claw hammer lessons from Dwight Dillard. Ed got so good that when one of the members of the band could not go on tour, he was called up to pinch hit. It gave him bragging right that he played on the Renfro Valley Gathering, even if it was across the mountains and in Kentucky, and not the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville.
    One of my favorite late-in-life characters was a retired university professor who admitted being  on the north end of eighty. Many of her acquaintances and colleagues had fallen off their perches, but she was going strong. She had nothing nice to say about most of her ‘friends,’ calling them the fossils and wax-works. We all found her challenging because she always carried a book in her over-sized purse. The moment she sat down anywhere, if she was bored or uninterested in the conversations, out came the book. If she was at a party, before long she was off in another room, along with her book.
     That included church services. One time our Prince of the Pulpit mentioned, “I see you have your book with you,” which was his way of hinting he caught her reading. “Yes,” she answered. “I would not have needed it if your homily had not been so dull.” 
   She used her book d’jour as a weapon. Along with it, she packed a Moleskin notebook and fountain pen, so she could underline and make notes. Her behavior was absolutely shocking, and no one else would have dared to attempt such a stunt, but Grace got away with it. She was our very own non-toxic social anarchist, and also so entertaining that she never lacked invitations. Party-goers laid down bets on how soon she would go off to read on her own.
    Later, I saw her in the church parking lot and asked what she had been reading.  She told it she was studying ancient Greek philosophy, then snapped, “You look surprised. My husband spent his life studying how human bodies work. Now I am studying why we even want to bother. I study the Greeks because everything in the western world comes from them. Unless we apply ourselves to understanding them, we will never know who we are. You would do well to remember that!”
    When I think about these late-learners, I am impressed. They have kept their mind alive, and probably their bodies, as well, with just two elements. The first is that they remembered Newton’s law of physics: A body in motion tends to stay in motion; a body at rest stays at rest. That includes the mind, as well, and these folks have fought against and defeated the inertia of doing nothing.
    The second thing is that they remain unabashedly curious. They want to know more about something, or a lot of things, and they relentlessly pursue it. Of course, it isn’t any type of curiosity. Keep in mind, it doesn’t take much mind power to follow social media influencers or read the latest celebrity gossip scandals. Rather, it is curious about something challenging and significant.
    What a way to live.
    Overcoming inertia and finding something interesting to explore is not necessarily going to give you a longer life, just a better one.