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Posts Tagged ‘retirement’

This weekend is my Beatle Birthday.

I had my “LP” Birthday in 1992, my “Single” Birthday in 2003—and if you’re old enough to get those references, I see you—but they went by relatively (or completely) unnoticed, unmarked, unremembered. (My “78” Birthday, in 2036, might be the same, and I hope I’m lucky enough to reach it.)

Since 1967, though, I’ve thought fondly of this coming milestone, despite the fact that I was convinced I’d never reach such an “advanced” age. The song pretty much nailed what I looked forward to in my elder years (sans grandkids, of course; never wanted kids, much less grandkids), with its images of puttering in the gardens, fixing things about the house, taking a month at the seaside in summertime.

I mentioned last time that my retirement is finally visible on the horizon, and this birthday, routinely imagined for the past 55 years, is a time to stop, look around, and evaluate.

Some of my friends have already retired. Some have put their all into new ventures. Some hopped on a plane on Day One and began (or continued) to travel the world. Some, sadly, took ill, beginning entirely unplanned journeys. I admit, I compared the image in my head with how they began their Third Act, and felt the old report card put-down of “Not performing up to his potential.”

It’s not as though I plan never to travel. It’s not as though I plan not to try new things, learn new things. It’s not as though I plan to spend my entire retirement digging the weeds and fixing fuses. It’s just that, in my heart, after decades of pushing, learning, wrangling, fretting, struggling, planning, pacing, saving, working, I merely want to slow down and enjoy the ticking of the clock, the crackle of the fire, perhaps the crash of waves on the shore, and the settling of ice in a dram of whisky.

And, of course, I hope that she will still need me, that she will still feed me, when I’m sixty-four.

k

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In 500 days, I will retire. In more ways than one.

I will retire, as in leave the job I have held for lo these decades past.
I will also, for a time, retire, as in go to bed and sleep (I hope) for more than 5 hours at a shot.
I may also retire, in that I may allow my naturally reticent nature may be more the norm.

Either way, in 500 days I will have, for the first time ever, a long stretch of time where I do not have a day job.

I began working in my teens. During my college years I had to hold down a job. Even when I was studying in Jerusalem, I cleaned flats and played in the symphony for extra cash. After I dropped out and returned home, at age 21 or so, I began to work full-time. Vacations, if I had them, for the first decade or so were at most one week long. In the late 90s, I had enough seniority to afford my first two-week vacation and, in the early “oughts,” I had my first  three-week vacation (I’ve only had one other, in the mid-2010s). I’ve had a full-time job for over forty years, and have been at my current company for over three decades.

I’ve been lucky. I lucked into a good profession for which I had no schooling at a time when learning “on the job” was still a thing and aptitude combined with hard work carried enough weight to balance out the lack of a degree. I got lucky with a spouse who is good with money, contented more by daily kindnesses than by flashy acquisitions, and who truly is a life partner in every sense. As a result of these lucky breaks (and my perseverance), I can retire in my mid-60s, rather than having to work until I’m in my mid-70s.

Advice on making the transition from work-a-day-monkey-boy to curmudgeonly-semi-hermit is plentiful (although perhaps not that specifically tailored to my expectations). I have friends and relatives who’ve made the transition, have seen a shift in my news- and article-feeds toward the topic, and am in contact with professional advisors on how to handle the various mechanical and financial aspects of it.

More to the point, though, I’ve begun to mentally prepare. Work takes up a large chunk of my waking life (and a not insubstantial chunk of my sleep). What time that’s left over is usually spent with chores, errands, time with my spouse, with slivers left over to spend with friends, books, and this blog (really my only writing outlet, these days). When I get back that chunk of work-time, I know I will have to apply a level of discipline to my schedule that is currently handled by my desire to receive a paycheck. Not everything will change, but a lot will, and knowing that ahead of time seems crucial to a smooth phase-shift.

But there are some questions that cannot be answered before I reach the promised land. Currently, I am a morning person, but this is primarily because at 4AM, my brain often clicks into gear in order to prepare for the work-day. Absent that impetus, will I still be a morning person? Or will I join my wife in her night-owlishness? And what of reading time? I’m not a fast reader, but part of that is because my mind is distracted and focus is often difficult to achieve. Will that change when I don’t have on-call duties or inter-office politics niggling at my attention span?

Naturally, one thing I plan on doing more of is writing, but what shall I write? A while ago I turned my hand to a mainstream/literary novel, but it’s been a struggle; is that what I really want to write? I have other ideas for series and sequels in genre fiction, and I think they might be fun to write. I have also been enjoying experiments in poetry (though the drive to create them comes and goes like a tide). So, will I finish the work-in-progress, or just move on to other projects?

I feel that it must be better to recognize these “known unknowns” than to get blindsided by them. I’m sure there are plenty of “unknown unknowns” out there, lying in wait like tigers in the bush. Best to have my head in the game.

I’ll be spending these next 500 days in preparation: downsizing expenses; selling off the unused, unneeded, unnecessary aspects of our life; learning about what needs to be done, and by when. I’ll be listening to my friends who’ve “gone before,” and reading those dry-as-dust articles about asset allocation and required minimum distribution strategies. All exciting stuff, to be sure (not).

Onward.

k

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Decades as an orchestral musician taught me the value of practice. Years of woodworking taught me the wisdom of the planning and the pre-cut double-check. A stint running a newspaper press taught me the dangers of over-confidence. Twenty summers working in my gardens taught me the peace that can come from taking the long view.

With that as preamble, it’s probably not a surprise that I am approaching my retirement with forethought, prudence, and not a few contingency plans. (more…)

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