The retired Odd Couple rehashes battle of the sexes

     During the drive home, somewhere near Dover, Del., I tapped the radio button to turn off the sound. We were going to resolve this retirement question, raised three months ago in this column space.

    I had lamented that Mary’s pending retirement was about to disrupt my comfortable weekday routine, carefully cultivated over four years. I had developed a synergy to my errands, household chores, basketball games and golf matches, meetings and meals. I didn’t want that disturbed.

   My spouse of 40 years insisted she deserved a rebuttal, that I exaggerated the likely compromises, that I was making things up, that I was describing her as a dragon lady. Her succinct phrase was: “I’m calling you out for bull(spit).’’

    The Odd Couple was squaring off. Who would prevail? The educator or the vice president of communications. The former sports editor or former metro news editor? Himself or Herself? In retirement, we were supposed to be doing things together, but we hadn’t achieved much synergy.

   She started on my line about the ex-boyfriend. My view was that each time the high school senior would argue with her boyfriend, he would insist he had to leave to attend college golf practice. She sampled golf and declared it a lame sport. It killed her interest and let me off the hook.

    Again, she called “bull(spit)’’ on that account. “It wasn’t true.’’

   In her version, they dated through her sophomore year in college and they had only one argument. Still, the breakup occurred. I remain thankful.

   But then she impugned my accuracy acumen. That shot was personal and professional. I countercharged that she held back details.

    “You never asked enough clarifying questions. I didn’t withhold anything.’’

     Then she switched to spending habits.

   This was starting to resemble one of those afternoon divorce court shows.

   “Liam outed you at Christmas,’’ she said. “When he was home from LA, he said you try to leave the house about 11 every morning so you can eat out while you run errands. You’re wasting money. I have stuff in the refrigerator.’’ 

I couldn’t leave that unchallenged.

“I’ll have you know that the most efficient use of my time is to eat while I’m driving between errands. An occasional hamburger is not being a spendthrift.’’

   If this were a golf match, we would have halved the first two holes.

   “The only thing you were right about is waking up early.’’

    I figured Mary wouldn’t disrupt my 5:15 morning routines – twice a week for sunrise golf and twice a week to run the basketball game at the YMCA. She usually was still sleeping when I returned. She valued her sleep too much.

   “You’ve got to give me credit. I’m doing more in the mornings.’’

   True. She has been walking three miles with our neighbor and joining the morning pickleball games at the Y. We’re staying out of each other’s way. Another hole halved.

   Speaking of pickleball, I called bull on her.

   Our Delaware trip afforded us the chance to play pickleball with old friends. Before we could arrive at the outdoor courts, I listened three times while my spouse warned the other couples to play gently because her husband was inept. My basketball guys would call me the Make-A-Wish case.

   I served proficiently, played several nice drop shots despite the wind, and executed some difficult returns. For a beginner, I performed admirably and emerged with a winning record. Not bad for a “lame’’ husband.

   “You just keeping patting yourself on the back,’’ Mary said, reaching behind her neck to pat her shoulders. “You were a much better player than I thought you would be.”

   We took a quick inventory of our joint retirement. We reviewed our day trips to Niagara Falls, Watkins Glen and Buffalo. We had agreed on a new front door and deck furniture. After 40 anniversaries, another 20 seems plausible.

  From her driver’s seat, Mary asked: “Would you say all your worries about retirement were unfounded? We’re supposed to drive each other crazy for the rest of our lives. Isn’t that the way it works?’’

  Then she turned from behind the wheel and asked, “Well, do you have enough stuff for a column?”

   “Yeah,’’ I replied. “I can make this work.’’

   Then she delivered the final zinger.

   “If you don’t have enough, you can always make it up.’’

      Morristown native Jim Holleran is a retired teacher and sports editor from Rochester. Reach him at jimholleran29@gmail.com or view past columns under “Reflections of River Rat’’ at https://hollerangetsitwrite.com/blog/