When I was 15 years old I bought a hat at Kmart. It wasn't just any old cap though. It was a wide-brimmed straw type of thing with a brown band around the base of it. There was a plastic gold kangaroo shaped pin that held the band together on the overlap. It was $3.99 and I couldn't resist. I wore it to school frequently and when people would ask me about it I would tell them, "I'm retired."
One day I was in a Salvation Army shop and found an old Members Only jacket. It was a grayish blue to varying degrees all over. It probably used to be blue blue but it had come to a point where it looked like someone had left it outside a couple of times and the sun had faded the parts that were exposed quicker than the other parts. Or maybe someone's dog had slept on it. My dog Velzy can wreck a towel faster than I can run.
It kind of smelled like it had been in the trunk of an old El Dorado for a couple of years before finding its way to an old dresser that didn't have liner sheets in the bottom of the drawer. Perhaps during a fateful spring cleaning it was discovered in its stronghold at the bottom of the drawer underneath an old train set. I like to think that its owner pulled it out of the drawer and smiled at the many memories in that old jacket before stuffing it in a garbage bag to take to the Salvation Army.
No doubt that it had been on the rack for quite some time when I found it. The musty Salvation Army smell was in a tooth and nail fight with the dank wood smell of the dresser drawer. I reluctantly washed it because my mom made me but it still (much to her chagrin and my delight) retained a great deal of smell. After setting my kangaroo laden retirement hat upon my pate I donned my glorious new prize. It completed the look perfectly.
Mr. Dunne, my history teacher, asked me why I wore my hat and Members Only jacket. He told me he used to wear one in college. I told him that I was retired. He nodded sagely. Janet, who sat next to me in Mr. Dunne's class requested that her seat be moved because my jacket stunk and I wouldn't take it off. Everyone's got a threshold.
Coach Webb asked me if I planned on coming out of retirement to attend spring football practice. I asked him if I could wear my hat during warm ups. He said he was worried about me but that wouldn't stop him from killing me if I wore the hat to practice. I didn't.
Mrs. Berry, my neighbor, told me that being retired is boring. I told her that working for 50 years sounds more boring than waking up at 10, putting on a hat and drinking iced tea while sitting in a hammock. She told me that I was romanticizing retirement and that it also entailed worrying about having a fixed income, going to frequent doctor visits and talking about politics. I told her that I already had the hat and jacket. She told me that sticking feathers up your butt doesn't make you a chicken. I nodded sagely.
Greg bought the same hat a couple of weeks later and started telling people that he was retired too. I gave my hat and jacket to Goodwill. Retirement was much more fun alone.
