RETIREMENT
I remember the day I decided to retire. I was in Peterborough, of all places, for a
week’s hearings of the Veterans Review and Appeal Board. It was a cold, miserable stretch of early
March weather and I’d just had time to unpack from a family trip to Cancun with
the nine most important people in my life — Elva, my children, their spouses
and my grandchildren — before getting on a plane again. My colleague and I were staying in a
non-descript hotel on the outskirts of the city; far from a decent restaurant,
no fitness centre, no cinema nearby — nothing but grey skies and slushy
sidewalks.
I went for a long walk and, along the way, asked
myself two questions. How many good
years do I have left to do the things I want to do? Will we have enough money to do the things we
want to do? I knew the answer to the
second question, and realized no one can know the answer to the first. I loved my work and could have asked for a
second term as a member of the Board, but my decision was made in Peterborough. I never looked back.
Retirement is a daunting prospect for many of
us. Admittedly, there are also those who
hate their work and those who want to do something else, something totally
different from what they did for a living.
Was I worried about my decision?
Absolutely! Career and workplace
had defined me for almost forty years.
They transformed me from a young man lacking in confidence, ambition and
self-esteem into a more mature individual with a decent track record and a
strong network of colleagues gained from my many assignments over the years.
As I contemplated retirement, I thought about the
things I’d miss and worried about what I’d have to do to replace the
satisfaction that came from work. I
remembered when I was the youngest around the boardroom table; the one with the
least to offer and the least experience; conscious that others were looking at
me, wondering where the hell I’d come from; and aware that I had to prove myself. Now, suddenly, I was one of the elders,
sharing my hard-won knowledge with those younger than me. Where had the years gone?
What would I do to fill in the days? Elva and I loved to travel, but we couldn’t
afford to be on the go all the time. And besides, where but on our Island would
one want to spend the best six months of the year? Should I sign up for volunteer work? Should I look for part-time or contract
work? Should I take some courses or take
up a new hobby? How would I keep myself
healthy, physically and mentally? Would
the condo be big enough for the two of us, or would we drive one another crazy?
And so the day came: September 18, 2013, my last
official day of work. I woke up the next
morning, looked in the mirror and asked myself: “Who’s that old Christer with all
the grey hair and wrinkles? Where to
from here …”
Long story short, I boarded
a plane that same day, bound for Barcelona, and haven’t looked back. True, ten weeks in Europe, Christmas Holidays,
and ten weeks in Central America and Florida helped mask the transition.
The reality of it all hit home during those
miserable April and May days back on the Island. They were almost enough to make me want to
make a few phone calls to see what work I might be able to find. But I resisted the temptation and I’m glad I
did.
“What are
you going to do today?”, Elva asks as she walks into the kitchen, all
bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Same
question every morning! My pat answer
is: “I don’t know”. And honestly, I
don’t. I make it up as I go along. For one who always sought the most efficient way to do things and
prided himself on being disciplined, the transition to unscheduled time came
easier than I thought. Truth is, I don’t
always have to be busy.
It goes back to the days off my youth when doing
as little as possible was my goal in life.
I actually got to be pretty good at avoiding work. My mother used to tell me that I took after
my father’s side in that regard. Once, I
asked her what one of my father’s half-brothers had died of. “Laziness”, she replied. “He spent his life on the couch and that’s
where he died!”. So, it seems, doing
nothing is bred in the bone.
From doing nothing, I added the occasional hot
yoga class, spin classes, bike rides, books, writing, and my new favourite
pastime, trout fishing. Presto, the days
went by, and I wonder where a year went!
Turns out my fears were totally unfounded. Instead of career objectives, I have new ones: maintain a decent average speed on my bike; read a book a week; keep in touch with family and friends; … take … my … time …; and have a nap when I feel like it.
I maintain a keen interest in the things that
stimulated me during my career: veterans’ affairs, land use policy, resources
industries, environment, and French-language issues, and I have the occasional
discussion with former colleagues, just to stay in the loop. I’ve said no to several offers to do work or
serve on committees, and I’ve accepted a couple.
As for Elva and I getting in one another’s way,
yes, there are moments when we’re on the verge.
But they’re rare. Either she goes
for a walk, or I do. Simple as that!
A few evenings ago, I found myself casting into a
pool on the beautiful Morell River, watching the sun set on the last day of the
brook trout fishing season. Four of us threw
line after line, perfect cast after perfect cast, all trying to catch the big
one that jumped occasionally, tantalizing us.
The trout spoke to me: “It’s over boys!
I won! Go home …” As I reeled in, I chuckled to myself,
pondering the irony, and reminded myself how much better off I was after a day
on the river than after a day in Peterborough.
Last year, I promised myself I’d give retirement a
chance — one year ‘cold turkey’ — and I’m glad I did. There is life after work! And it looks like this.
And this ...
And this!
