Sometimes, I quiz my close retired friends on what really counts for each of them. I hope to catch them off guard – before they can think of a thoughtful, manufactured answer. I lean toward them in a Walter Cronkite kind of way, like their answer will change the tilt of the earth.
“Willie, I need to know, what really counts for you? What makes you jump out of bed in the morning, eager to make the most out of the day?”
Or I try to catch Howard before he orders his second beer. “Howie, you’re acting a little confused since you retired. What’s the one driving force that makes your life worth living?”
What do I get in return? Silence, followed by confused looks and witty remarks about my strange questions. I back off. I know I can be pretty obnoxious.
In truth, here is what most of my friends are curious about:
What’s our tee time tomorrow?
Do I still have to wear a mask at the airport?
Did you catch the last season of Ozark?
I think I’m a bit weird. Often, just before I go to sleep at night, I ask myself, “Don, what really counts?”
I’m still waiting for the perfect answer.