L.E. Caldwell
…The Inane Ramblings of a Geezerly Septuagenarian
I never have liked the word retirement…seems it’s just a hop, skip and a jump away from ‘throwing in the towel.’ And even less now, as I stand at the precipice of a new chapter in my life…one of uncharted waters and uncertain times. Yes, it seems seven-plus decades have somehow passed in a blink of the eye, reaching those magical numbers that deem me old enough to receive senior discounts and brand me as a bonafide geezer…I have the scars to prove it.
Retirement is what my maternal grandfather did when he moved from the family farm to the small town of Healy, Kansas in 1955, and what my father did as his health declined at age sixty-two; he didn’t live to see 63.
It’s a numbers racket of sorts…some are mandatory with possible penalties for non compliance while others are self imposed; lest we become a danger to ourselves and others. Retirement it would seem, is what we choose to make of it, as long as we are willing to follow an ever changing set of rules that have purposely been designed to corral and wrangle us into submission.
Don’t get me wrong, the idea of retirement is a grand proposition, as long as you understand the expectations going forward and are willing to be subjected to a litany of old age monikers such as ‘golden-ager, ancient history, rusty, geriatric, elderly, codger and of course geezer'. It also helps to be fluent and well versed in the art of swearing, which can come in handy. I’m a life-long, card-carrying member in both the spoken and written forms.
Sure…the ‘Art of Retirement’ is a perk-palooza of opportunities as touted by the AARP, with perk being an abbreviated form for perquisite which means a benefit, a tip or in this case a bonus for getting older and cheating death. The accepted spelling for the abbreviation of perquisite is perk and is usually seen in its plural form…perks, just to be clear. There, you learned something…I’m always looking for the opportunity to be useful, considering my advancing age and apparent weakened mental state.
And as touted by the AARP (American Association of Retired Persons) opportunistic adventures are just a stones throw away for the recently retired. As a member of AARP, a monthly magazine can be delivered to your home or is available online for those that are computer savvy. On the bright side, discounts at motels will eventually pay for the cost of joining, if you live long enough to enjoy it. Frankly I prefer a good novel.
Since we now have more free time on our hands, volunteer schemes are a dime a dozen. There are numerous groups out there looking for help under the guise of volunteerism; some are better than others. And then of course there are part-time employment opportunities for the retired…How about the prestigious Walmart greeter position? At our local Walmart I once asked the store greeter, an older gentleman, (at least older looking than me) how he was getting on?…and without missing a beat he replied “I’m living the dream.” And there you have it in a tongue in cheek sort of way.
Just between you and me…come a little closer…it’ll be our little secret: I’ve been told that my chances of becoming a “store greeter” are slim and none. It unclear whether I should be enraged or ecstatically happy at such an accusation. In fact, my ability to last a full day on the job has come into question. Perhaps it’s my geezerly manner in turning a phrase, or somewhat frequent use of four-letter words, or an unwillingness to engage in friendly chitchat or perhaps the thought of me telling customers where they can go…obviously directing them to locations within the store.
But that is changing too. Walmart has systematically been replacing the ‘greeter’ with ‘customer hosts’ who have been given added responsibility and no surprise…they look a bit younger too. At least a bit younger than me.
Older age, in some ways, is like being put out to pasture on the side of a cliff without a rope or safety net below. We are expected to become fluent in geezer-ese along with a new repertoire of fundamental, naturally age appropriate abilities. Are you familiar with dominos, horseshoes, pickle ball or corn hole? The last one sounds painful.
Retirement basically means you have to learn a new set of life skills…it’s not for the faint of heart. Managing life now requires a deep dive into medicare, social security, supplemental medical insurance plans, prescription drug plans, doctor visits, rising prices, and a master’s degree in living on a fixed income, not to mention the death of friends, neighbours, and loved ones at a more rapid pace. It’s like geriatric Russian roulette.
Probably one of the hardest pills to swallow with getting older is invisibility. You’d think that might be neat. As a youngster I would have given anything to be invisible and to have had x-ray vision; now the only x-rays I get are at the doctor’s office. It probably comes as no surprise to anyone over 60 that we are becoming invisible to the younger generations, unless of course they are DNA proof positive connected or mentioned in a Last Will and Testament.
But now in my seventies, I find it down right rude and reprehensible. We are a nation that revels in youth while casting aside the old like last week’s news, unless of course you are a politician. No pun intended. I understand that with age comes wisdom, but there is that fine line when it comes to slowed cognitive function and bat shit crazy. What ever happened to term limits for Christ’s sake? We will discuss that another time. You may have to remind me.
We have all witnessed it or have been a victim of ageism…you know…the tilt of the head, the deep sigh, the fake smile, and the rolling of the eyes are all dead giveaways. And then there are those that simply don’t wish to engage you in conversation…why?… Because We Look Old.
‘Don’t bother to explain, he won’t get it,’ I overheard one employee say to another while waiting in a customer service line. “He’s old.”
Well, just for the record, I refuse to become invisible; a poster child for the walking dead (misunderstood). I understand that I’m closer to death now, but in my defense and as an advocate for the some 54 million American over the age of 55, I believe we still matter…we still have much to say; there should be no expiration date when it comes to being relevant. What ever happened to knowledge is power? There is enough information in my head to fill a library. Unfortunately my filing systems is in need of a reboot from time to time.
Just because we are no longer young, that does not mean that all of the sudden we have some how lost our ‘marbles’ and are unable to put two complete sentences together or that we fall into some sort of sleep induced coma promptly after the noon meal. Hell, that’s just retirement talk. I never consider napping until at least two o’clock in the afternoon.
‘Leave of Presence’ is what I have decided…there will be no retirement for me. I read the phrase a while back when learning of the death of Chicago Times Movie Critic Roger Ebert. His words rang true as he described Leave of Presence “as slowing down,” perhaps a metamorphosis or a reinvention…but by no means going away.
Roger Ebert had cancer that had previously ravaged his body; it had returned and he was making some changes, but definitely not retiring. He had other plans in the works. Unfortunately his Leave of Presence was short lived. He died at age 71.
For me it means, in short, Leaving the daily grind behind, and fully living in the Present every day. Frankly speaking…there are people to visit, places to see, photographs to make, and of course stories to write.
It doesn’t take a math whiz to figure that loss of time is no longer my friend…nor on my side for that matter. I do however take issue and scoff at the premiss that perpetuates the “it’s never too late” theory…Have you looked in the mirror lately? As I have said many times before, reality trumps expectation every time.
As we age, time is our most important commodity. Wasting one minute of it, which others are so willing to do at our expense, take the waiting room at the doctor's office for example, is like wishing your life away. While it is true that a stopped clock is right twice a day, trying to turn the hands back is simply a fool’s errand. We must journey on exuberantly and with purpose. Grab for the gusto…I’m a firm believer that we all need something to believe in…for instance, I’m retired and I believe I’ll have another beer. We must throw caution to wind and hope it doesn’t get blown back in our face.
So, it is with a certain amount of trepidation, that I have pulled the main plug…choosing to dangle from a less secure extension cord; free falling as a livewire so to speak. There is no sabbatical in the future, no hiatus, break, or reprieve, and definitely…most assuredly, absolutely…No Retirement.
We have a choice. I refuse to roll over and play opossum (not dead), time marches on and so most assuredly must we…Perhaps at just a little slower speed for some of us.
