Books |
Early Bird: A Memoir of Premature Retirement
Rodney Rothman
By
Published: Jan 01, 2005
Category:
Memoir
Somewhere in Florida, in a retirement community where the residents are alert and active, someone is even now saying, "Our book club should read ‘Early Bird’ next."
I wonder what they’ll say after they read it.
Is Rodney Rothman — the 28-year-old former head writer for David Letterman — writing a gentle memoir of his "premature" retirement here? Or do sharks swim beneath the gentle waves of prose that lap against the Florida shore, delivering pleasant one-liners? Is "Early Bird" a testament to the endurance of the human spirit, even as its vital essence cools and ebbs? Or is it — perhaps unknowingly — a savage indictment of the way America warehouses its elders in developments that are more like stage sets than communities?
Or maybe that’s overthinking. Maybe this is just a pretty funny book.
Rothman, a TV writer, loses his job when his show is canceled. This may be a good thing. His memories are mostly of finding himself still at the office at midnight, "tasting every quarter-filled coffee cup on my desk until I find the one that is still a little warm." But he’s a professional funny man — he gets an idea. "I’ll end up retired in Florida anyway. Why not get a head start and check it out."
Who knows? Maybe he’ll meet a shaman, like Mitch Albom’s pal Morrie.
His friends tell him to get over himself, to no avail. Goodbye, L.A. Hello, Boca Raton.
So here he is, on page 9, in Century Village. It’s dawn, but many are out taking their daily exercise. (Virtue? Perhaps. Don’t forget some of these people will have dinner at 4 and be in bed by 8.) Why is Rothman up? Because his senior roommate, Margaret, has a parrot.
Good for Rothman — he remembers her name. Many have trouble with names. Thus, men generally address Rothman — and one another — as "fella." Rothman likes this: "It’s an awesome term of endearment that deserves a comeback as soon as everyone gets tired of saying ‘dude’ and ‘my nigga.’"
In an effort to Meet People and Be Accepted, Rothman does everything he’s supposed to. Sits by the pool. Goes to the supermarket, where "there is a senior citizen traffic jam at the free sample area." Drives to Target for home furnishings.
Inevitably, he forms what might be called friendships. There’s Amy, the 94-year-old former stand-up comedian ("Yeah, my knees hurt. But what the hell, my legs still spread.") They go together to see a play in West Palm Beach: "Menopause: The Musical." (I kid you not.) He plays shuffleboard because, after all, tennis is a heart attack waiting to happen. Shuffleboard, bingo — what’s not to like? In the flush of early romance, Rothman even goes house-hunting (and you thought there was no housing bubble?).
"I slept with a seventy-five-year-old woman," he tells his L.A. friends. Why not? "I feel seventy." He’s losing it, he knows, so he tries dating. Computer dating, that is. On a real date with a nice young woman he actually likes, he secretly pops a Viagra. "Within twenty minutes, I can no longer breathe through my nose," he reports. "It seems to me that Viagra must make every membrane fill with blood, not just the wiener."
Funny stuff. But padded. Shuffleboard and bingo are sketches pumped up into chapters. Big revelations aren’t bigger than jabs: "I don’t think ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’ would have been so uplifting if that guy had to spend more than Tuesdays with Morrie." And the avoidance of death — only one person he meets in Florida dies in these 240 pages — makes you wonder what else Rothman left out.
But let us not dwell on darkness. Laughs are short these days. They are liberally sprinkled throughout "Early Bird." Kids will give it to their parents who are contemplating a move South. Many copies will be gift-wrapped and sent to Florida. And there, people will ask, "If Simon & Schuster is so smart, why didn’t they put out a Large Print edition?"
To buy "Early Bird" from Amazon.com, click here.
