My brother turned 60 today! Harsh.

But, as I am the older brother, I have little in the way of sympathy for him. Too far apart in our ages for much empathy either. 3 years is a long time in family politics. Mom always liked him best, anyway. So did Dad now that I think about it and my sister claimed neutrality to my face but they did hang out a lot together. Ours was a divided family, really. Over me, anyway. Of the five of us, only one really thought I was great and he suffered from severe doubt now and then. Four against one on a good day, a unanimous majority against on most. Oh well.

60 was a number, eh? I remember it well. About the only thing I do remember well, actually. Not the year, of course, just the number. I’ve still got 1-100 down pat, even at this age. Gasoline prices climbing as they do have me pretty good to 130 as well. As I recall, my 60th year was spent living dangerously on a remote island up the wild BC coast. I must have been crazy.

Funny thing about age……there isn’t any. I distinctly recall the incidents of my giggling uncontrollably disappearing before I was 21 and the frequency of laughing hilariously beginning to dissipate around 30 – 35 (coincidentally with the arrival of the children). I laughed out loud and guffawed genuinely less and less after 50 and I have chuckled with mirth only at Xmas when I am wearing rosy cheeks, red long johns and drinking rum eggnogs by the gallon. I can’t help myself. I just ‘let go’.

Nowadays the best I can muster on a daily basis, as a rule, is a smirk of sorts, sometimes a leer depending on where we are and who’s nearby. I occasionally pop a ‘snort’ when someone says something surprising but, of course, at 63, less and less surprises me. Hilarity, it seems, is the second thing to lose as you age.

I confess to feeling the edges of my straight, thin lips trying to turn up a bit when the new motor got the boat, fully laden and all, up on a plane yesterday. That was good times! But I was simultaneously trying to keep a straight back in the light chop as I had strained it earlier this month and have been whining about back pain ever since. Won’t do to start giggling after putting Sal through Hell for the last three weeks. Mind you, she looks like she could use a good laugh or at least a gallon of rum eggnog. Poor sweetie. She should not have to live with an old geezer with a bad back and a worse disposition. The woman is a saint.

I am quite pleased, however, that Spring has sprung. Hard to explain the change in me now that winter has seemingly passed. And Sal is positively giddy. We are definitely more attuned to the seasons and that means susceptible to the blahs of winter. It was always our intention to ‘get away’ for a month or two in the winter but it seemed more like an option before. Now………..well, let’s just say that the it is less of an option and more of a necessity.

So, there you have it: the retirement recipe is 10 months in BC and 2 months elsewhere, preferably sunnier climes. No more pretending. Next year will see rosy cheeks and rum by way of the Caribbean beaches and bars. Or a reasonable facsimile.

Unh, just in case – would you remind me in November that I have plans?