It scrapes my nerves when people tie just age and retirement together. You're 60-plus, so it's time to retire. You're retired, therefore you must be old. Some of the preconceptions of this time of life skew how people think of you, sometimes even the way you think of yourself. The between-the-lines message suggests withdrawal-from work, from activity, from life. Images abound of the mortal coil wound so tight it squeezes life right out of the soul.

But it isn't that way. This is the best possible time of life. It's the time for living and loving and laughing and learning. It's the time for fun. Mere years on earth shouldn't be the predictor of what we do and how we do it. What about dividing life's after-55 years into activity phases? What about calling it the Go Years: the Go-Go, Slow-Go, and No-Go times? Splitting time into levels of physical and mental activity might erase those preconceived notions associated with months and years.

We tend to attach labels to age phases of life-the early years, the teens, the endless 30s, middle age, senior citizens. There are presumptions of how to think and talk and act when squeezed into one of these packages. Do as you're told, be wild and carefree, be responsible and burdened, start losing it physically and mentally, hobble your way in to the doctor's office, and prepare to move to "the home." The reality check tells us that there's something wrong here. We're cared for and nurtured in the early years not the later ones; later years are for being wild and carefree. These are the years of perfection!

First Nation people have the right idea. They herald the perfect years by according special status to those who have lived well and joyously. The opinions of a person of advanced age are sought and attended. To be an elder is an honourable, respected and responsible position. Elders are treasured; youngsters aspire to become one.

What does perfection mean for you? Time to read all those books on your bookshelf? What about buying that travel trailer you've always wanted and spending the summer on the road? Building that cottage at the beach? A new deck? The perfect garden? Are there other important things you want to do with your life? For most Go-Generation people it's:

• Being in good physical condition. Climbing trees might not be appealing now, but there are other ways of changing the vista. Check out the ski hills, fishing pools, exercise spas, swimming holes. Been to a dance at a community hall lately? Or counted the downtown walkers and shoppers? Peek under the helmets of the bikers. Who do you see? The grey-haired Go-Go Gang.  Each member knows his or her limitations, and manages to stretch them from time to time, despite the occasional creak and groan.
• Being interested. Free from the burdens of work, mentally active older people want to meet new people, try new things, delve into family roots, have a different cultural experience. They want to keep the mind on the move.
• Having lots of time. Time to travel, time to read, time to spend with lovers and loved ones, time to expand on lifelong interests or to develop new ones. Or, one of the greatest rewards for having survived six decades or more, simply time to be alone.
• Having some money to spend frivolously. We never have enough money to do everything we want to do…at any age. So let's not talk about that any further.
• Having good health. Most of us enjoy roughly the same level of good health in the Go-Go years as we did 20 years earlier. Do you know that only about five per cent of the older population needs medical attention?

So here we are with time, good health, a few dollars, a curious mind, lots of energy. This, indeed, is perfection! What do you do with yours? Each of us has our own special place or special lifestyle. I'm one of those lucky people. I have the spirit of a few Go-Go girls hovering over me. They taught by example to forget about the chronology of age, to break away from the bog of routine anytime, and to keep interested and active. I was also taught by example that home is a shifting site, as long as it is in Atlantic Canada and within sight of woods and waters.

My perfect place is on the edge of water. Sometimes I'm at a lake in a one-room cabin. Everything I need is there. Parts of me are always on the water, maybe just my eyes, maybe all of me in my canoe. I share my perfect lake land with all kinds of aquatic life. The lake is the superstore for eagles, ospreys, ducks, and fish of many kinds. Voices and echoes of special people surround me there. The loons express my moods. Sometimes they laugh with delight at themselves or with their pals. At other times, they hauntingly mourn.

My other perfect place also has water, this one a river only a few feet from the window of my home. Several years ago I scratched the itch to live where I can't smell the exhaust of traffic, hear a lawn mower, or see a discarded Tim Horton's cup. For now, I live with moving water, maples, spruce and hornbeam within eyeball range. Outside any window I see birds and deer; they are almost touchable as they feed in my yard. I'm at peace in nature, yet I'm within easy driving distance for life's necessities, the most important of which are the friends and family that I value. 

One of the two greatest pleasures of living in the way I do is the silence; the other is the roar. The silence comes from living far from fast moving vehicles, bunches of people, and sirens. The roar comes from the rush of moving water and at this time of year from the cold wind rattling high in the trees. The teakettle on the wood stove chatters. The pages of the book I'm reading crackle as I turn them. These are the pleasures of engaged solitude, so important to my soul.

Other pleasures include the people so critical to my being. Wine and music and candlelight accompany the delights produced by the wood stove. Loves and laughter surround the round table.

Recently I caught a glimpse of myself in a full-length mirror. The mirror's merciless reflection seemed strange, so unlike the image of how I see myself. It showed that I'm marked and shaped by how and where I live. My surface is a seascape of swells and heaves, my windblown hair the white and dark of granite, my skin the texture of fallen leaves. But the mirror didn't expose the blood and bone and nerve of who I am. I'm 66 years old, I'm fairly fit, I can still carry my own canoe, and I like my own company. I can scrape up enough money to pay the taxes and gas. I have some special friends in the pre-Go generation, some in the Slow-Go crowd, and many Go-Go'ers. I do a little bit of work and a lot of play. I have almost everything that's important to me-time, interests, health, good friends. Most importantly, I'm an Atlantic Canadian and it's here I want to stay.

So, that's my idea of perfection. I live it and I love it. Given no accident or disease, I'll be living my perfect life in my perfect places for many years yet. Want the recipe? Take time, for yourself and others. Eat well, enjoy a glass or two of red wine. Spend your money on the things that matter. Keep moving-on a bike, in a canoe, on your feet. Ask questions. Be good, brush your teeth, change your underwear, wash behind your ears and stay where your heart is. You can have your perfection, too.