I retired at 62, received a package to get rid of me and I couldn't be happier. Now eight years later at almost 71 and due to a brainless urologist that let cancer grow in me for a decade and the subsequent treatment, I get up and go hunting turkeys every day at 5 a.m. now as if I was a teenager. I watch the clouds go by and pretend I am still young. I tell people I'm in the ninth inning with two outs but the game isn't over until the last one. Yes I could have worked until now, had seniority over everyone, thirty-seven holidays and vacation days, a larger retirement income, but no one can tell me I can't have off. I quit to do what I wanted to do. Would have been at the Southern this year but the two guys who go with me said they have enough guns. They missed the point but the one guy was an artilleryman in Vietnam and says the continual firing gets to him. I can understand that. I still buy guns, fix them, hunt with them a couple of times,and put them away. But using a gun that was in the family or just a hundred plus year old gun is therapy.
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