Now that I've mentally descended from the hubbub of the holidays, with the help of a few days of gazing at the moonscape that is Lake Huron in winter, I'd like to revisit my earlier post 65. In that 2012 commentary I shared what I considered some important life lessons from my 40 years in the working world. It was sort of a post-mortem on the principles I had come to rely on in my daily life. And was a critical step in closing out that part of my life where most of my waking hours were spent helping others achieve their goals.
I've now been retired more than five years, and have had ample time to measure those principles against the challenges that come (surprisingly) with fewer commitments to others and (not so surprisingly) with age. A review of the former post might help one make more sense of the observations in this one (I know - good tip). So let's work the list again, a little further along the journey.
1 - Life is a test, and tomorrow you get to take it again. The spirit of my original observation was that everyday is a new chance to get things right. What I didn't realize then is how many of the new tests would involve imaging technology, blood samples and intimate conversations with people that have "ologist" at the end of their title.
2 - Know what you want out of life. This was a testament to the Franklin system of sorting out life's goals, planning with these goals in mind, and living the plan. Prior to retiring, most of my attention was required to honor the goals at the top of the list. You know, the ones that focus on being a positive force for the people around you (see previous post Values for the deep background on what I'm referring to here). What I was hoping for in retirement was that those issues would be on near-automatic, and more time could be spent on some of the lesser but nonetheless important goals, like order, happiness and intellectual growth.
I'm happy to report that for the most part that has come to pass. I have had plenty of time to keep my extensive movie collection indexed and alphabetized and to better understand the important life messages in just about every episode of Leave it to Beaver. I've even had time to go on eBay and acquire one of those life-sustaining WWWCD bracelets (what would Ward Cleaver do).
3 - If the consequences of your behaviors aren't meeting your needs, there is an error in your belief window. I was initially doing okay with this somewhat technical principle in retirement, which basically means that if things aren't going your way, it's probably not someone else's fault. Rather, you need to reexamine how the world really works. In other words, look within to find, assess and correct your own beliefs and behaviors when things don't turn out just the way you would like.
I have to admit that the last year or so of political activity in this country has thrown me for a loop. It may be that I was wrong about this, and that consequences of bad acts can be avoided through denial even in the face of cold facts or through a sufficiently snarky tweet storm. The jury is still out on this (can you say Robert Mueller), but I'm getting a little antsy. To try and keep calm about the whole thing and preserve my sense of propriety I've been rewatching a lot of Lone Ranger episodes. It's helping.
4 - Well begun is half done. The message here is that the way to overcome challenges is to merely take the first step, no matter how small. Then the next step, and before you know it you're on your way. I have certainly found this to be just as true in retirement as it was in my work life. However, that seems to be only half the story. It's the backend of this little dynamic that sort of snuck up on me.
In the working world, like most I had more on my plate each day than could be completed. That was okay, as unexpected time could turn up during the day due to changes beyond my control. Having extra items on my to-do list (or in Franklinese, my PDTL - Prioritized Daily Task List), meant that I could quickly turn those gifts of time into productive work. My back-up plan, so to speak, was already built into my day.
However, having more items on my PDTL than I could actually do also meant that I had to be diligent in working the highest priority items (the As) first, and avoid sliding down to those lesser important items (the Bs and Cs) when there was still priority work that could be done. But, there was another subtle force operating in my work planning model that has slipped away in retirement, and therein lies the rub.
What I now realize is that when you are working mostly high priority items, items that affect others, you finish them. Because if you don't, there's trouble. Either for you or for someone depending on you. In my retirement life, that is seldom the case. Yes, there are still important tasks for which there are sufficient incentives for completing (usually having to do with marital commitments or those "ologist" folks I mentioned earlier), but at least so far in my post-work world they are few.
Most of my planned activities involve my hobbies. If I don't get those tasks done as planned, basically nothing bad happens. The task just gets "arrowed" ahead in my day planner. No trouble, nobody adversely affected, not really even anyone to tell. As a result, while I have spent a lot of time on hobby activities since retiring, and started a long list of interesting projects, virtually none are complete. They are neatly tucked away in my hobby cubby, patiently waiting for some attention.
Do I feel bad about this, or inefficient, or unreliable, or even poorly organized? No. That sense of urgency that departed my psyche when I hung up my IRS spurs is still off somewhere, looking for someone else to nag. So while I still say that "well begun is half done", I would now also say "interest wanes in the half that remains". Or said another way, "a well-planned start ain't the the only hard part". Or to put an even finer point on it, "one can easily shirk retirement work". You get the idea. And can likely sense by how I have belabored this point, that for me finishing things isn't the priority it used to be.
5 - If it's in the planner it happens. As hinted in the previous item, there's been a slight change in my compliance with this principle. For big picture items, like family support, vacations or major social events, it still holds true. When an issue is complex, the day planner remains a powerful tool. But for the bulk of my activities, which focus on well-honed hobby and goofing-off skills, I would say "if it's in the planner, it won't be forgotten, but it has a 50/50 chance of being arrowed". After all, one of the burdens of a healthy retirement is a good dose of dawdling (see previous post The Art of the Dawdle for a reminder on the nature and benefits of this misunderstood activity). And to even the most casual observer it is plain to see that dawdling is not very planner-esqe.
6 - Preserve relationships. As critical as ever. You never know when a person in your presence will be pressed into immediate caregiver duties. And you want them to be well motivated.
7 - Treat people as if they know something that you don't, because they do. The original message of this principle was that everyone has unique experiences and perspectives on the world, and encouraging them to share their ideas should enrich our own lives. What I've learned since retirement is that it's possible for one's life to be over-enriched. It seems as though there has been a decline in independent thought among certain segments of our society, and that it just might be that there are people out there who know nothing useful to me. This is a tough admission for a life-long liberal-hippie-extravert with a strong sense of unity with my fellow men and women. But after a fair amount of my own independent thought, I've run out of alternatives to explain why some people behave the way they do (except of course for the alien influence possibility presented in my previous post How Terribly Strange...)
8 - Don't Major in the Minors. While I still support the idea of not missing the bigger picture by quibbling over lesser important issues, I would say this principle operates a little differently in retirement. It's just more fun to play in the minors. With those major issues rolling along smoothly for the most part (see 2 above), you can spend more time on the little things in life that make you smile. Like organizing family pictures, adding the 6000th song to your iPod, or re-reading your favorite seven volume fantasy adventure. Just keep tabs on your major-issues sensor array, so you can quickly snap back to adulthood if necessary to keep the ship afloat should a rogue wave come your way.
9 - Geography is a powerful force: In my earlier post I noted how where and with whom you spend your time has a great deal of influence over what you do, what you think, and your overall wellbeing. So, put yourself in environments that facilitate your goals. I find that principle only amplified in retirement. For me, the liberal-hippie-extravert, that means hanging out with my peeps as often as I can. Parties, picnics, luncheons, bar night - be there or despair. 'Cause it won't last forever.
Geography also plays a role in the increased private time retirement usually affords. Nothing stimulates the brain better than nestling the body into a stress-free zone. In other words, I think it's way easier to get outside the box mentally or spiritually if you're inside a comfy box physically, losing less energy to the outside world. At least, that's the way my mental processes work.
An Adirondack on the beach, a favorite reading chair, an ergonomic swivel rocker stationed within arms length of your hobby world, even a car passenger seat where you can catatonically stare out the window at the countryside while your spouse navigates the interstate. All can be portals to reflection and renewal. So pick your "departure" spots carefully. You don't want to miss your flight.
10 - Don't just smell the roses, plant some. The original message here was "pay it forward". Invest in others, as our predecessors invested in us. In retirement, with reduced exposure to the working world, I find most of my opportunities to do good involve kids and grandkids, mine and others. It's rewarding, of course, and enjoyable. Spending time with the next generations, lending them a sympathetic ear as they journey through the challenges of managing careers, parenting, surviving the perilous world of home ownership - it's all good and not unexpected. Most of us have been preparing for this our entire adult lives.
What has surprised me some have been the frequent opportunities I've had to contribute to peers (and elders) who have had or are having a harder time reaching the rose garden. It's unnerving at times how our "golden years", despite our best efforts to plan, can be so arbitrary in their distribution of fortune. Health, wealth, blessings, tragedy - it can seem like a real crap shoot at times. So I feel it's important to not only plant roses for those coming afterward, but to be mindful of those of our own and previous generations who occasionally might need a little help getting themselves into sniffing range.
_________________________________
Well, there you have it. How my thinking has morphed in retirement, tempered by the occasional dose of liquid wisdom and over exposure to social media. But still tied closely to what I believe are important life principles.
And now I plunge full speed into my 70s (well full-speed for me; that's about one click down from an amble). I'll check in again at 75 and report on how things are going, assuming the Russians haven't revoked my Internet privileges.
Saturday, January 27, 2018
Sunday, January 7, 2018
"How Terribly Strange.....
...to be 70", is the rest of that Paul Simon lyric. I had no idea.
I completed my 70th year on Earth last November. Well, at least my 67th or 68th. I can't remember much of the first couple of years. I have to take the word of others (and some suspect hospital documents) that I actually started here and not in some off-world colony or long-range spacecraft. Being a life long devotee of all forms of science fiction, I have thought about that from time to time. It's put me off looking into my DNA ancestry.
Species certification notwithstanding, living in today's world as a budding septuagenarian feels alien enough for anything to be true. So I'm keeping an open mind on the issue, while I assess the evidence. Let's consider.
First, something simple. Cars. I understand science and engineering. Seat belts, air bags, side view mirrors, infant car seats, even rear view cameras. All are improvements that have emerged in my driving lifetime. I accept them all as reasonable and smart. But self-stopping, self-parking, even self-driving cars? Right. That's nuts.
I'm barreling down I-75 surrounded by 18-wheelers of all sorts, bus-sized RVs towing Mini Coopers, pickups longer than a cigarette boat with tires off an earth mover, and I'm going to turn back to my "in-flight" Scrabble game and calmly make my next move? I don't think so. I've spent too many miles dodging highway nemeses of all types and sizes to trust some computer chip made of plastic and tin foil to safely usher me and my loved ones from the Motor City to Disney World. This without so much as a touch screen or a joystick. I've seen Star Trek, Jupiter Ascending, even Guardians of the Galaxy. There has to be some alien conspiracy at work here.
Then there's communication. During my formative years (ages five through 29), communication referred to learning cursive, knowing how to diagram sentences, syntax, avoiding dangling participles, and rules of punctuation. Later, we had to adjust to the intrusive notion that what we mean to say is more important than getting the grammar right. So rules went out the window. We were schooled in transactional analysis and interpreting body language and packed off to sensitivity training.
In more recent years we have devolved completely into cyber babble, mostly concerned with how fast we can connect with the largest number of people possible, with no thought or meaning required. Actually weighing down a "message" with thought or meaning is usually counterproductive. The important thing is not to exceed the number of allowable characters. This downward spiral feels very much like what a hostile force might lead us to as a prelude to invasion. Keep your eyes on the horizon.
And what about dignity? Nothing appears more strange (and less dignified) to me than a professional business man in an expensive suit who appears to have forgotten to shave during his morning toilette. I'm not talking about well-groomed beards. They have been around and accepted since, well, forever. I'm referring to what looks like yesterday's leftovers. Scraggle. Stubble.
I understand that a whole generation of young men missed razor training and are beyond redemption. But this trend has spread to older, formerly distinguished cultural leaders (like TV weathermen, game show hosts and used car salesmen). What I think is really going on is that the aliens that are replacing key individuals on our planet have a fierce allergy to after shave lotion. So I now carry a travel-size bottle of Aqua Velva with me at all times. Just in case.
Safety seems to be another obvious indicator that we have been infiltrated by off-worldly strangeness. Doesn't it seem weird that almost every child rearing principle, device, toy, and dietary rule of the previous generation is now either not recommended, disapproved by some extremist consumer protection group (like Pediatricians for a Wimpy America) or actually illegal. I have a basement full of baby stuff I have hoarded for years so I could pass it all on to my grandchildren or use these memory-laden items to entertain the little darlings during grandpa babysitting adventures. I don't think so.
Most of the equipment that arrives with my grandkids when they visit has more safety features than my first car. Actually, my first several cars. Who could have known that twirl-a-whirls, collapsible walking trainers, child leashes and even umbrollers were such lethal threats to the future of the species. More likely, the spawn being cultivated to replace us have some physical deficiencies (no doubt an evolutionary balance to their mental superiority) that require this crackdown on faux-irresponsible parenting.
If all this isn't enough to persuade you that the strange walk among us, let me indulge in a brief glimpse into the worlds of politics and religion. I mean, duh. Have you followed the news lately? Or surfed through the political talk shows or evangelical stations? Chaos. Cacophony. Cosmic discord is upon us.
Have we ever seen so many contradictory points of view advocated so intensely, explained so meaninglessly, defended so self-servingly, and embraced so blindly by its constituencies? It's like we are caught in an anti-intellectual big-bang, with every idea flying away from every other idea at the speed of light. A speed so fast that no thought will ever catch up to or influence any other thought. Who else but a race of menacing superbeings would have the means and the will to shut down the critical thinking processes of so many humans at the same time? You've read Stephen King's Cell, right? I'm tellin' ya'.
___________
Or not. It could be that I just got a bad bottle of vitamin chewies. Or that I have mixed up some of my meds with my mother's. Or that the gravitational pull of the lunar apogee is messing with the sensory receptors in my brain. Or maybe, just maybe, I've allowed my addictions to Perry Mason, Leave It to Beaver and 50s sci-fi to color my sense of normal. You know. Like a Twilight Zone episode (from the early years). Not sure.
Whatever the cause, I am feeling a lot of strangeness up here in the septo-sphere. It's not exactly scary. I have no urge to run and hide under a table. But I sense something wafting all around me. Something unnerving, with a faint aroma of distilled spirits. And I have a feeling that it's not going away.
Until my next encounter of the 70s kind.
Grosse Pointe Charles
I completed my 70th year on Earth last November. Well, at least my 67th or 68th. I can't remember much of the first couple of years. I have to take the word of others (and some suspect hospital documents) that I actually started here and not in some off-world colony or long-range spacecraft. Being a life long devotee of all forms of science fiction, I have thought about that from time to time. It's put me off looking into my DNA ancestry.
Species certification notwithstanding, living in today's world as a budding septuagenarian feels alien enough for anything to be true. So I'm keeping an open mind on the issue, while I assess the evidence. Let's consider.
First, something simple. Cars. I understand science and engineering. Seat belts, air bags, side view mirrors, infant car seats, even rear view cameras. All are improvements that have emerged in my driving lifetime. I accept them all as reasonable and smart. But self-stopping, self-parking, even self-driving cars? Right. That's nuts.
I'm barreling down I-75 surrounded by 18-wheelers of all sorts, bus-sized RVs towing Mini Coopers, pickups longer than a cigarette boat with tires off an earth mover, and I'm going to turn back to my "in-flight" Scrabble game and calmly make my next move? I don't think so. I've spent too many miles dodging highway nemeses of all types and sizes to trust some computer chip made of plastic and tin foil to safely usher me and my loved ones from the Motor City to Disney World. This without so much as a touch screen or a joystick. I've seen Star Trek, Jupiter Ascending, even Guardians of the Galaxy. There has to be some alien conspiracy at work here.
Then there's communication. During my formative years (ages five through 29), communication referred to learning cursive, knowing how to diagram sentences, syntax, avoiding dangling participles, and rules of punctuation. Later, we had to adjust to the intrusive notion that what we mean to say is more important than getting the grammar right. So rules went out the window. We were schooled in transactional analysis and interpreting body language and packed off to sensitivity training.
In more recent years we have devolved completely into cyber babble, mostly concerned with how fast we can connect with the largest number of people possible, with no thought or meaning required. Actually weighing down a "message" with thought or meaning is usually counterproductive. The important thing is not to exceed the number of allowable characters. This downward spiral feels very much like what a hostile force might lead us to as a prelude to invasion. Keep your eyes on the horizon.
And what about dignity? Nothing appears more strange (and less dignified) to me than a professional business man in an expensive suit who appears to have forgotten to shave during his morning toilette. I'm not talking about well-groomed beards. They have been around and accepted since, well, forever. I'm referring to what looks like yesterday's leftovers. Scraggle. Stubble.
I understand that a whole generation of young men missed razor training and are beyond redemption. But this trend has spread to older, formerly distinguished cultural leaders (like TV weathermen, game show hosts and used car salesmen). What I think is really going on is that the aliens that are replacing key individuals on our planet have a fierce allergy to after shave lotion. So I now carry a travel-size bottle of Aqua Velva with me at all times. Just in case.
Safety seems to be another obvious indicator that we have been infiltrated by off-worldly strangeness. Doesn't it seem weird that almost every child rearing principle, device, toy, and dietary rule of the previous generation is now either not recommended, disapproved by some extremist consumer protection group (like Pediatricians for a Wimpy America) or actually illegal. I have a basement full of baby stuff I have hoarded for years so I could pass it all on to my grandchildren or use these memory-laden items to entertain the little darlings during grandpa babysitting adventures. I don't think so.
Most of the equipment that arrives with my grandkids when they visit has more safety features than my first car. Actually, my first several cars. Who could have known that twirl-a-whirls, collapsible walking trainers, child leashes and even umbrollers were such lethal threats to the future of the species. More likely, the spawn being cultivated to replace us have some physical deficiencies (no doubt an evolutionary balance to their mental superiority) that require this crackdown on faux-irresponsible parenting.
If all this isn't enough to persuade you that the strange walk among us, let me indulge in a brief glimpse into the worlds of politics and religion. I mean, duh. Have you followed the news lately? Or surfed through the political talk shows or evangelical stations? Chaos. Cacophony. Cosmic discord is upon us.
Have we ever seen so many contradictory points of view advocated so intensely, explained so meaninglessly, defended so self-servingly, and embraced so blindly by its constituencies? It's like we are caught in an anti-intellectual big-bang, with every idea flying away from every other idea at the speed of light. A speed so fast that no thought will ever catch up to or influence any other thought. Who else but a race of menacing superbeings would have the means and the will to shut down the critical thinking processes of so many humans at the same time? You've read Stephen King's Cell, right? I'm tellin' ya'.
___________
Or not. It could be that I just got a bad bottle of vitamin chewies. Or that I have mixed up some of my meds with my mother's. Or that the gravitational pull of the lunar apogee is messing with the sensory receptors in my brain. Or maybe, just maybe, I've allowed my addictions to Perry Mason, Leave It to Beaver and 50s sci-fi to color my sense of normal. You know. Like a Twilight Zone episode (from the early years). Not sure.
Whatever the cause, I am feeling a lot of strangeness up here in the septo-sphere. It's not exactly scary. I have no urge to run and hide under a table. But I sense something wafting all around me. Something unnerving, with a faint aroma of distilled spirits. And I have a feeling that it's not going away.
Until my next encounter of the 70s kind.
Grosse Pointe Charles
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