We've been in the desert for almost a year and I'm thinking today of a certain look I noticed on the faces of men in their 60's and 70's here that struck me right off the bat. Many of them seem to be out wandering around with no particular place to go (Chuck Berry), having told themselves around noon
that it was time they got out of the house. Dressed well and healthy-looking they appear to have been dumped here by a big storm and have no idea what they are supposed to do next. In other words, these are retired guys.
Their cars are there in the parking lot--expensive, spotless, and bearing plates from Michigan, Canada, Oregon, Minnesota, any place there is snow. There are so many Canadians here that one of the radio stations runs five minutes of news and stock reports every morning and afternoon. The sponsor, JFK Hospital, calls itself "your Canadian-friendly medical center." A lot of people around here are from British Columbia, hey, and may need to see a doc about an old hockey injury, or a new one from golf.
Things got a little scary in Barnes & Noble when I overheard a very fit and dignified man in his eighties describing his routine to someone, "I exercise, read, write novels, and I'm bored to death." It ain't easy.
Talk amongst yourselves.
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