Home Cooking

It has been a little over a week since my return to Harrisburg, the land of my parents. Though I consider Harrisburg my hometown and hate when people put it down, I no longer consider Harrisburg my home. Initially, this came as a surprise to me because I have a strong connection to the place and the people here, but after three and a half years (one semester in TLV) of living in Ann Arbor I can no longer call Harrisburg my home, it has switched to my parent's home. After moving out, they switched rooms around, added a nice deck and given my brother reign over the entire basement. So where is my home? I am going to be a bit of a nomad, though I don't feel like a Jack Kerouac character from "On the Road," traveling around with Harrisburg being my base to come back to when I need a break from the road.

Retirement Age

After the cordial helloes and how ya doings the typical conversation goes usually as follows: Do you have a job? What are you doing next? These are good questions and show legitimate curiosity and caring by the individuals who ask, however, with all the questions I am reminded of one of my college roommates, Josh, aka the grand inquisitor. Josh earned this nickname by, as the nickname suggests, being an inquisitive sole and always asking questions. He would be the supreme contestant on the show "Whose Line is it Anyways" in the game where you were only allowed to speak by asking questions. Anyway, I regress, my answers to these questions usually have me in an awkward limbo where I try to tell people that I am taking it easy, relaxing and generally not doing much of anything productive to society. But I am sure to mention that I plan on looking for a job, I don't want to be seen as too much of a sloth. I have likened this in between period (college and the real world) as an early retirement; my days are very similar to the average retiree. I wake up in the morning at no particular time, somedays 10 when I am wanting an early start to my day, but most days closer to noon. I lounge around in my underwear, read the paper or online news source, check my investments, eat a leisurely breakfast and ease my way into the day. I consider the day productive if I run an errand or two that I need to get done, nothing flashy, just the changing of oil, return a pair of shoes, groceries, that sort of stuff. I eat another meal in between my brunch and dinner, usually a salad of sorts, egg salad, tuna salad, chicken salad.
Then comes the hard part of my day. Picking up the guitar that I bought two years ago and trying to learn enough of any song that I would feel comfortable to tell anyone that I actually play the guitar. I strum for a while, until my finger tips start to hurt from pressing down on the wire strings or until the sounds that comes from the guitar can no longer be identified as being played on an acoustic guitar. Here is where I go to the gym, some may say this is for keeping in shape and being healthy, in fact it is one of the best places to socialize. I have been going to the same Jewish Community Center (JCC) for the past 21 (almost 22) years and when walking from the front door to the gym I am guaranteed to encounter someone who will barrage me with the questions from above. I have no good real answer to the question, only that I am retired and waiting for my AARP card.