I know that you are thinking “this title is not the way to start out a series about living in a retirement community”, but at least it gives me a chance to explain myself. The picture here is the age I stopped getting older. Well that’s not the literal truth, but as Mark Twain said in the graphics below, I still don’t realize myself as any older than when I stood there at Mount Vernon in 1988.

When I look in the mirror or get up out of a chair, I don’t see the white hair or hear the groans, instead I see my virtual 42 year old self and ignore all the proof otherwise.

So, five years ago when I took a tour of my current RetCom home, I just didn’t see myself as belonging here. The place was, and still is, filled with old people! I’m not old. OK, I admit that I know that in reality I am almost twice as old as I want to believe I am.

Eventually, probably sooner than I imagine, I will take a fall and end up traveling the halls with a walker, or worse a scooter, but I choose to put that reality off as long as possible. I never cease to feel young for a whole day at a time.