Friendly New World

So often when we’re working, much of our social life is connected to that job, either through get togethers after hours, or just the interaction during the day. When we retire, that falls away; even if you still see your past co-workers, you’re out of the loop and it becomes more difficult to stay relevant. You're no longer the thing you identified as – an accountant or a pre-school teacher.  

          If you’re away from home with other retirees, your identity changes even more. Here in Florida, whether resident or snow bird, pretty much everyone is from somewhere else, and often one of the first conversational exchanges starts with “where are you from?”

          Instead of the usual group of friends you know, usually with similar backgrounds and educational levels, it’s a happy jumble of people you might never have met earlier in your life.

          For starters, much of my Pickleball crew is from the Midwest (although oddly enough, one new person who’s joined us actually lives about 15 minutes from my house in Massachusetts).  

          All this occurred to me when I was sitting on the sidelines the other day and chatting with a woman named Barbara. Up until now, all I knew was she had a good serve and lived at the complex where we play. That day, I found out she used to be a microbiologist and her husband Steve (who’s 6’3” and a spectacular player who – thank God - reins it in when he plays with us) was a math and gym teacher.

          Our regulars also include Bob, a Post Office worker from Boston; Ann, a retired science teacher from Illinois; Cheryl, a 30-year shoe saleslady from Ohio; and Bill, a Florida resident who was once a jet pilot.

          How many people “reinvent” themselves when they hit college? Retirement can sometimes be like that, except happily, without the work.