Coasting

Ripley: Hey, I feel like kind of a fifth wheel around here. Is there anything I can do?
Sergeant Apone: I don’t know, is there anything you can do?

[From Aliens]

     In all candor, I had no idea what to expect from my retirement years. Many of my colleagues counseled me against retirement. They had two reasons above all others:

1. ”You’ll miss not being part of the action.”
2. ”You won’t know what to do with yourself.”

     Well, argument #1 seems not to have affected me. I have received calls from others who hoped to enlist me in their efforts, but so far I haven’t felt any impetus toward them. These past ten years, “I don’t do that stuff anymore” has been an adequate response.

     Argument #2 has been on my mind from time to time. Quite a few retirees suffer from boredom, among other things. And now and then, I do find myself briefly at loose ends. However, it’s usually because I’m unwilling to do any of the things I know I should be doing.

     All the same, I know the power of the temptation to coast: to “rest on my laurels,” as it were. Coasting is a trap. It’s effortless. But he who abandons all forms of productive activity and involvement swiftly becomes irrelevant to others. They forget him. Worse, he forgets himself: how and why he matters to anyone or anything.

     The most discussed problem of the elderly today is loneliness. Yet loneliness isn’t a primary but a consequence of idleness and non-involvement. Retirees who remain engaged in worthwhile work of any sort tend to have more people in their lives than they know what to do with.

     The first step is figuring out what you’re still good for.

     My special skill is with words. So I produce words. I also assist others with their words, as a sounding board and an editor. I don’t get paid for it, but I don’t need money. Still, acknowledging that words are my principal skill was the necessary first step.

     Others have much different experiences. I know a retired engineer who’s extremely skilled in a number of crafts, including carpentry and videography. He’s stayed busy these past fifteen years merely by making those skills available to anyone who could use them. Indeed, he’s said more than once that he got more rest when he was a working stiff.

     Another friend, a writer much like myself, is deluged with requests for help with composing advertising brochures. She didn’t know she’d be good at it until she tried it. She too is in more demand than she expected.

     Until his passing a short while ago, a lawyer I knew, who was six years my senior, volunteered in the Reference department of a local library. His love of reading and extensive knowledge proved a boon to that library.

     Few people of any age are “good for nothing.” These next few years are likely to see a boom in the labor markets, such that a lot of older Americans will find that the trades they retired from are in such high demand that wrinkles and gray hairs are of no moment to prospective employers. The C.S.O. is in that position, being a specialist in a field – religious accounting – that’s undersupplied with her kind of expertise.

     Failing a specific skill, charitable organizations can always use help of some kind: tidying, organizing, filling shelves, filling out forms, counseling, even just conversing with clients. Homes for the infirm and the elderly are perennially starved for such help – and there’s nowhere you’ll find a greater number of lonely people who just want someone to talk to.

     So why sit around collecting dust and might-have-beens? Surely you’re good for something. Why waste it by coasting? Speaking of which, I’m behind on an editing job I should really finish today. Later, Gentle Reader.