Retired Life - Am I Doing This Right?

Today is the official start of my second year of retirement from corporate life. A year ago, I entered this new phase of life with some ideas about what I could or would do with the opportunities it presented. Here's a look back at how well that went, for my friends who are still working and for the amusement of friends further along the retirement path than I am.

    First of all, I want to say that the ability to enjoy retirement and accomplish things that are important to me is not something I take lightly or for granted. Long life, physical health and mental health are not guaranteed for any of us. Even just having the time and ability to share these thoughts in a blog is something to be grateful for.

    As I entered retirement, I wanted to accomplish a few things with the time formerly occupied by corporate life. This is roughly how my plan went.

    First, I wanted and needed to be more available for my wife, Denise, and her mom Alice (AKA, Gram), both of whom have gone through some pretty major health challenges this past year. Caregiving and supporting family through aging and health challenges are major priorities for me. I've done my best to fulfill that commitment over the past year, and it has become a big part of my life. Those who have been there know what I mean. For those who haven't, chances are the day will come. If you know, you know.

    Second, I wanted to nurture and grow my creative side as a writer and songwriter. That's been going pretty well, though not yet at the level I'm shooting for. It's nice to have time to write and, in addition to this blog, I have three book projects in process. I've discovered that writing books isn't necessarily the biggest challenge. Dedicating the time and energy to promoting and selling them is. I've watched several friends do it over the past year or two, and it takes a lot of time, travel and hard work.

    My songwriting output has improved as well, and that is truly one of the things that keeps me sane—or possibly insane, if you've heard some of my songs. Either way, anyone contemplating retirement should have a plan to keep busy, keep learning and keep growing. Retirement can't just be about what you stopped doing.

    Along with nurturing my own creative side, a related passion is growing and supporting other creative people through 3rd Street Coffeehouse, which is now in its 40th year as a live music venue. I'm working hard on several projects to build on our existing platform and relaunch it for the next generation of musicians to receive and build upon. It's a sacred place in our community, and I'm honored to be part of the long legacy of people who are, or have been, a part of it. We'll celebrate our 40th anniversary next April, and I'll definitely be writing more about that.

    Lastly, and unexpectedly, I've followed in my father's footsteps this past year by getting involved in grassroots politics at both the local and national levels. Over the past year, I found myself more and more disenchanted with the changes I was seeing in national policy and felt obligated to seek and support what I believe to be much-needed change. When Beth Macy announced her run for Congress in my district, I knew I'd regret it if I didn't support her.

    My dad was a Democratic Precinct Captain back in the day, so I guess it's in my DNA to get involved at the grassroots level. Perhaps my efforts will help steer the country toward a better place. I hope so. I also hope Dad is looking down with his buddies from some smoke-filled cloud and they're proud of me. Knowing Dad, he's probably thinking four moves ahead of me and I hope he’ll pass along some good advice from the cloud.

    Being that this is my first retirement, I still make rookie mistakes and I'm still learning. Mostly, I learn from people like you—people who may have different ideas from mine and challenge me to look at things from their point of view. Challenge accepted. I'd genuinely like to hear your thoughts in the comments. Are you currently retired or planning to be in the coming years? If you're retired, is your experience anything like my own? If not, how has it differed? If you aren't retired, what are your goals and plans to stay engaged, keep growing and stay busy?

    Please share your thoughts in the comments. I hope our conversation will be thoughtful, respectful and productive.

    If you try to leave a comment and receive an error message, your browser may be blocking third-party cookies. You can select "Anonymous" in the "Comment as" field and simply include your name or initials if you prefer.

    Thank you for reading—and for walking this road with me.

Life Lessons, Sunsets and Growing Old In America

Sunset At The Hospital Last Week

I am a proud Baby Boomer, born in 1956. My parents were in their mid-forties when I arrived—much older than the parents of most of the kids I grew up with. My grandparents were older too, and my sister and I were born into a family that had survived the Great Depression and World War II, a generation that watched the world change from radio to television. They had learned to count on one another when times got tough, because they often did.

My dad was a mailman. He knew everyone on his route. He was also active in local and state politics, so he seemed to know people everywhere. Within our family and his circle of friends, he was the one everyone called when someone needed help. Whether they were elderly, sick, or nearing the end of life, Dad made sure they had what they needed—groceries, medicine, a ride to the doctor, or simply someone to check in on them.

As a young boy, I often rode along with him. Those trips taught me lessons that no classroom ever could. Those lessons became values, and those values eventually became actions. Helping other people wasn't simply an obligation of faith; it was how healthy communities survived and thrived. People looked after one another. They offered helping hands along the way to make sure no one fell through the cracks.

When my dad passed away, something unexpected happened. The phone calls that had always come to him started coming to me, even though I was only 33 years old at the time. It felt like a role that required more wisdom than I possessed, yet somehow it had been quietly passed from father to son. I don't know exactly how people made that connection. Maybe they had simply seen me with Dad all those years and assumed I had learned what he knew.

As the years have passed, I've watched our culture grow a little colder and a little more distant. Perhaps computers and cell phones have too often replaced actually spending time with people. The relationships that once held families and neighborhoods together seem to be fading. I've heard it said that loneliness now claims more lives than cancer. Whether that's literally true or not, loneliness has certainly become one of the defining problems of our time.

These days, I spend a great deal of time with my mother-in-law, Alice. She's 86, and it seems her body discovers a new way to betray her almost every week. My wife, Denise, and I share the responsibility of caring for her, which means more doctor appointments and hospital visits than either of us ever imagined. Some days are hard. Occasionally I resort to sneaking some ice cream into her hospital room or taking her to a window to see a sunset. We discuss all sorts of things, some serious, some not, and a lot in between. The nurses scold me occasionally.  Guilty as charged, I guess.

Like my dad, Alice continues to teach me lessons about life—the kind you don't learn in school and certainly don't learn staring at a phone. She teaches me to slow down, to be patient, and to listen to a story I've heard more than once because, to her, it's still worth telling. She has taught me to observe carefully and understand what she's feeling, especially when she struggles to explain herself to nurses and doctors. Most of all, she's reminded me that sometimes what people need most isn't advice or medicine. Sometimes they simply need someone to listen, someone to care, someone to be there. Those are exactly the same lessons my father taught me when I was a boy.

I'm not sure modern culture truly values the wisdom and experience of its elders anymore. Many times when I'm with Alice at the hospital, I notice other patients who seem painfully alone. I can't imagine how frightening that must be—to be elderly, sick, and sitting in a hospital room, a nursing home, or even your own home with no familiar face beside you. Surely we can do better than that.

I once read about a program in Europe that paired older adults with children who had no grandparents or stable family connections. The children gained mentors and grandparents. The older people found companionship, purpose, and joy. Both groups benefited in remarkable ways. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we found more ways to do that here?

I'd genuinely like to hear your thoughts in the comments. Do you have older friends, neighbors, or relatives whom you help? If so, how has that experience affected you? Has it been a burden, a blessing, or perhaps a little of both? And someday, when you're the older person who needs a little help, what do you hope your community will look like?

Most of us will eventually need someone to slow down, listen, lend a hand, or simply sit beside us for a while. Perhaps the kind of society we become tomorrow depends on how we treat those people today.

Please share your thoughts in the comments. I hope our conversation will be thoughtful, respectful, and productive.

If you try to leave a comment and receive an error message, your browser may be blocking third-party cookies. You can select "Anonymous" in the "Comment as" field and simply include your name or initials if you prefer.

Thank you for reading—and for walking this road with me.