I have had the chance to hang out more than usual at the Colonie Golf Course that has on it's site Martel’s Grill and Bar. At this time of the year, on a nice day, the place is packed with older golfers palling around with each other at various volumes after doing whatever it is that golfers do. I get the sense that there is a bit of competition, but that much of it is an excuse to hang out and drink and do just a little something about that waistline. After golf time it’s all men attended to by engaging female waitstaff and bartenders. It’s a nice place. It’s a retired man’s haven because it has sport (did I mention the many monitors of sport-on-the-wall going on?), drinks, a nice atmosphere, and a feeling of privilege. I mean after all, golf requires the time and accoutrements of class. This is opposed to the folks at the Court Club who play handball. Those guys revel in clothes that do not match and a setting without privilege. Handball is no sport for the faint-hearted or clean smelling. And yet, something is the same. Here are old white guys who have found a place to be other than the office. They have friends and activity and a schedule of sorts that gets them out of the house. The retirees in these places and those like them have a heartiness in their lives and relationships that is the essence of a good retirement.
I play squash. It is, of course, the perfect game. It is classy without being pretentious. It gives one of the best aerobic workouts of any sport and does not take up a third of your day. The people I play with are my friends. We joke, we tease, we swear, and sweat. But not too much. It is an intentional joy that requires scheduling and arrangements and a bit of equipment. As opposed to racquetball, it requires strategy and finesse. As opposed to tennis, you can play it all year long and do not spend most of your time chasing balls. As opposed to doing nothing, you get healthier and more connected, and suffer the mixed blessings of winning and losing, of exhilaration and exhaustion.
There is also a group of people, including women I hear, who get some of the same pleasures out of classes of various types requiring stationary bikes or movable weights or thin foam pads invented by Hindu contortionists. In these classes someone up front (or right next to you!) often shouts encouragements or directions. Friends are made, calories are burned. Sweat is sweat. This must appeal to retired people somehow in particular, since the Ciccotti Center in Colonie has all sorts of these classes populated by people who are subsidized by institutions interested in their health, i.e. Medicare or CDPHP. I don’t really understand this kind of thing, though, since I have had people shouting at me from up front most of my life and am ready for something else, thank you very much.