HOW TO RETIRE
What about those golden years? A decade or two of long sunny days, endless free time for lounge lounging, music and TV aplenty to wade through unscheduled hours, unlimited travel for unconstrained destiny-diverse periods, protracted contemplation of one’s long storied past, and —well—letting go.
What the hell!
None of the above applies. To retire is to face the big void that rolls over you like a magic carpet that quickly loses its levitationality. You’re stuck lying face down on the floor of your life.
What do ya do?
Well, first there’s nothing. No more checks in the mail. Mail has already dwindled and, if you’re not using email—not to mention text—the mailbox is filled with adverts, medical bills, and a MacDo card honoring your birthday with a bag of free fries.
Hully gee.
Next, as you pad away from the mail room or mail box in your felt-soled Birkenstocks, comes the return home and the questions du jour: do you shower and dress and if so, what for? Do you have a dog to walk and, if not, do you seriously consider getting one? But then there’s the training and the walk is, like, twice every single day rain or shine, sun or snow.
Gosh darn it.
So you take down a set of tomes still glassine-wrapped, the three volumed The Complete Works of Primo Levi. Then it proves too heavy, weight and word wise, and you begin running through the current TV offerings, the TV Apps, and even public radio that plays on the tabletop radio you still have sitting like an ancient artifact on a bare shelf.
My oh my.
What about the novel you could write about—what?—your six weeks on a coast guard cutter in the Sea of Labrador? Your best friend’s aunt shooting her abusive husband and fighting a homicide conviction? The puppy you were given at age four and had to give back at age 4 and 2 months?
Kiddo
Best to pull up your boot straps, take a look in the mirror (naked), consider all the changes you can make—hair color, life partner, possible pet (not dog), adventure travel, job at Trader Joe’s, ballet class, piano or cello lessons should you have a piano or cello, crochet or knitting, cooking class, museum volunteer (butterfly vivarium appeals), wall climbing, swimming if a pool is nearby, gardening if you have a space or a planter…you get the drift?
Kemo Sabe
