Things I've Learned Since Retirement - Part 1

Or - facts of life that have gotten my attention of late. This is only Part 1 because I don't think the learning is over.

In an earlier post - 65 - I shared some observations about how I believe life works. These were derived from 65 years of getting up everyday and facing the world, including nearly 40 years of helping others tidy up personal relationships with their government. And in another post - One Year - I described how my life had changed since retirement, especially in the area of personal fitness. I've experienced nothing since the writing of those posts to change those beliefs. But now, after almost three years of not working for a living (thank you taxpayers of America), a few additional truths have revealed themselves to me. So I thought I'd pass them on.

Nothing is forever. This might seem like an easy one. But I have to admit, I'm really just getting it. I have been blessed with longevity in my life, in many ways. First, I'm in my late 60s, still basically living my life the same way I have since I was in my 20s (or at least my early 30s). The more cynical of you (you know who you are) are probably thinking that's because I was behaving pretty much like a 60 year old even then - avoiding risk, staying between the lines, enjoying the same activities over and over. And you'd be right. But I just think of it as finding my groove early and getting the most out of it.

So up until recently, my working assumption has been that the good friends, the parties, the music, the travel, and the overall good fortune I've enjoyed my whole life would be endless. But with the passing of my father last year, the loss of our troubled but beloved dog Kody in November, and a number of other less weighty events (cottage pine trees keeling over, old cassette tape players giving out, my favorite denim shirts frayed beyond repair) it's finally sinking in that life is more linear than circular, and that the only true constant is change.

But as is my nature, I see the bright side of this realization. And that is how really fortunate I have been in my family and friends all these years, and how thankful I should be for each new event and experience I still have before me. So I'm okay with this new found insight, and looking forward to what comes next.

Recharging time is directly proportional to age. Again, this might be a no-brainer for most. But there's a difference between knowing in general that people slow down with age, and realizing that your fingers won't actually close all the way in the morning until you've been up and around for 10-15 minutes. Fortunately, I don't normally have to grip a golf club or turn an ignition key until after this "re-booting" period has passed.

When I was working, and often running on six hours of sleep, I remember thinking about the good old college days when I could function successfully for several days on as little as four hours of sleep a night (I admit the term "function successfully" is subjective). Now, if I don't get eight hours in the sack I feel old and slow. Okay, I am old and slow. But with enough sleep I'm pretty good at deluding myself into believing everyone else is just in a big rush. And as we all know, delusions are critical to well-being.

I can still independently perform just about every physical task I want (or need) to. But I spend more time prepping (read - trying to avoid), employ prostheses whenever possible, and take more breaks (bathroom and otherwise - recharging takes many forms). But not to worry, as a retiree I have all the time there is, right? And, yes, those yellow senior tees are looking more inviting all the time.

Eventually, we all have chemical dependencies. You just have to have the right ones. Those would be the ones suggested by the array of physicians that usher us into our golden years. This reality came roaring into my consciousness when I had my little chest pain scare last September. It turned out that I had just strained a couple of chest muscles with an aggressive Frisbee toss. But having no prior experience with the discomfort I was feeling, I suspected the worst.

When you walk into an emergency room and utter the words "chest pain", several things happen. One of the more mundane is that somewhere between being thrust onto a gurney and becoming the victim of emergency diagnostic procedures, someone interviews you about your medications. Before this adventure, I thought medications only referred to expensive pharmaceuticals with 15+ letter names. Not to the staff of the Alpena Regional Medical Facility. They wanted to know everything I routinely ingest that comes out of a bottle. Low dose aspirin, One-A-Days, Vitamin D chews, the occasional Tums, "medicinal" alcohol - these ranked equally important in their eyes with the more exotic concoctions available only through prescription.

While I was reciting my list for the technician, I was struck by the number and variety of chemicals I actually do consume on a regular/semi-regular basis. I had never really thought about it in that way, and I had to ask myself why I was taking all this stuff. The answer, of course, was because each of these little chemical miracles makes me feel better. And at least to date, none of them has done me any harm. I've also noticed that upon occasion when I fail to take one of my regular goodies, I don't feel as well.

The net effect of all this pill-popping is that I've become much more aware of how my body works, how best to avoid taxing it beyond its current limits, and what chemicals can provide a little help when needed. So let's hear it for better living through chemistry.

You can never have too much garage. This fear was recently confirmed by my good friend Jeff Reinhart who has more garage than anyone else I know. Many of you know that Nancy and I have just added a one and a half car garage to our cottage in Greenbush. This project started out as an effort to replace our failing shed, and well, sort of got out of hand. (The full story of the new garage will be told at a later date, with pictures.)

But as I was moving all the stuff that used to be in my 10' by 10' shed into my 22' by 16' garage, complete with a second story bedroom, I felt things were just a tad cramped. Then I realized I had also relocated a lot of items previously stored in the cottage closets, the laundry room, and the front yard into the garage. And, yes, there were just a few new tools and garage maintenance devices hanging there on the walls as well. Before I was done, just about every nook and cranny of the new garage was in service as a storage space. And though I am completely happy with my new "barn", I can hear that little voice in my head whispering, "You should have made it just a little bit bigger".  

One car is enough. Now, I admit that my situation has evolved. At one time we had four cars crowding our driveway, each with a different principal driver. Now with the girls gone and me retired, Nancy and I decided to try going with only one car. The experiment began last summer. The logic went something like this. Less money spent on cars could mean more money for toys and fun. Being a boy, this argument for me was intuitive. And as Nancy shares my zeal for fun, she didn't take much convincing.

For us, the adjustment wasn't difficult. First, we are either at the cottage, on the road visiting friends or vacationing down south about half of a typical year. That's all "one-car" time anyway. When we are home, most of our outings are done together. That leaves only errands and the occasional girls or boys event to worry about. Potential conflicts regarding these activities are easily avoided through our regular Monday morning calendar sessions (I know, you're shocked. The Burks having a calendar session?) So basically, we couldn't see paying a few thousand dollars a year for a second car just in case Nancy wanted to go to the market at the same time I needed a haircut.

The trick, of course, is being willing to spend most of your waking hours in the presence (or at least the vicinity) of your spouse. But isn't that why we got married in the first place? To be together constantly? (Pardon me for a few seconds while I go pry my tongue out of my cheek.)

Scoring in golf is optional - perhaps even unwise. An ex-acquaintance of mine once asked, "If you can't get to the green in two, why would you play golf at all?" Obviously this soul was lost. But I have to admit that until the last year or so, I always found myself toting a scorecard, noting each swing, putt and penalty shot, hoping to score just a little bit better than my playing partner or at least better than my last round.

But I've entered a new phase. And while I still upon occasion will be obligated to keep score, it's not why I'm out there. The real beauty of golf is the variety of pleasures that it affords, the very least of which is using only as many shots per hole as someone you never met thinks you should.

First, there is the sheer beauty of most golf courses. Green with all sorts of flora. Deftly integrated into rolling hills, gurgling streams and thickly treed forests. And groomed daily by armies of groundskeepers.

Then there's the exercise value. Walking back and forth across fairways as you tack your way to the green. Slogging through ball-eating brush and cavernous sand traps to track down errant shots. And the deep-knee bends involved with sizing up those three and four putt greens.

But the best part of all is hauling back and crushing that little pill with all your might, driving the ball a full 40-50 yards at a time. It just feels good to purge that festering aggression you've been denying. Even better if you are able to picture the face of a favorite ne'er-do-well on the back side of the ball as you start your downswing. Whew. I get the shakes just thinking about it.

So scoring? Completely optional. And take as many swings as you need to work things out. There are few activities available to me and my peerage as attractive as an afternoon enjoying the multi-dimensional joys of golf.

Well, that's enough sharing for this round. As always, I would like to hear from any of you who have had your own learning experiences in recent months, about the golden years or any other pursuit.
  
Grosse Pointe Charles