No Expiration Date

Is Retirement the Goal or Just the Story We've Been Sold?

At the ripe old ages of 61 and 62 in 2021, Sue and I figured we were going to stay in California for the duration, so we bought a home in a 55+ community I mockingly called “Happy Acres.” We loved the home, and the community was quiet. Too quiet, really. There were no kids running around and getting yelled at by their parents. There was very little noise after dark except for–and I am not making this up–the regular stream of ambulances to pick up one of us old people that had experienced yet another heart attack.

The first thing we learned soon after arriving at Happy Acres was that if you’re still working, people look at you funny. You don’t really belong.

True story: the first words spoken to me by a neighbor named Tony shortly after we moved in were, “So, are you retired?” Not, “Hi, my name is Tony; what’s yours?” Not, “What attracted you to this community?” Not, “Can you help me with my oxygen tank?”

When I answered that I was still working and wanted to keep going for a while, his facial expression turned dour and dismissive. Of course, I think that was pretty much his default facial expression, so maybe I should say it turned more dour and dismissive. Ironically enough, I found out later that Tony was still working; he owned a plumbing supply company. Oh well! He was from New Jersey, which I’m sure had something to do with it.

The second thing we learned about 55+ communities is that the speed limit is strictly enforced. So, if you’re driving a red VW Beetle convertible with the top down listening to the Allman Brothers, as we were, it didn’t matter if you obeyed the 20 MPH speed limit, it looked like you were going fast, and thus, you were going to get reported to the community managers by self-appointed traffic safety officers who sat on their porches with whiskey in one hand and cigarettes in the other.

Photo by Samuel Myles on Unsplash

(Suddenly and inexplicably, I have the urge to watch “Cocoon” or “On Golden Pond.” Hope that passes.)

We moved from Happy Acres when I took a position at Asbury Theological Seminary in Kentucky. But, living among this tribe of elderly Americans, I came to believe some things about retirement, especially retirement and me.

First, we ain’t buddies, retirement and me. In truth, I think we’ve all been sold a bill of goods about retirement, and I’m not a fan. Don’t get me wrong, as BB King sang, “The Thrill Is Gone” when it comes to dragging my carcass into the office before 10 AM. But, that doesn’t mean I want to stop working. In many ways, I feel like I am in one of the most creative periods of my life, and I don’t want to squelch that. If anything, I want to spend as much time as I can in creative pursuits that draw the best out of me.

Second, to be human is to create. This is clearer to me now than it ever has been. In the biblical story of creation, God makes the humans, the “dirtlings” as my dear friend Dru Johnson calls them, in His own image. For millenia, theologians have pondered what it means to be created in God’s image. There’s no time or space to explore that fully here, but one of the dimensions that stands out to me is this area of creativity. Adam and Eve procreate. Tools for husbanding the ground are developed. Boats for conquering the waters are constructed. (If only Noah had an AI account and owned a 3-D printer, making the ark would have taken just a few days rather than decades.) For me then, creativity and humanity are linked. And, the truly great thing is that there’s no expiration date on either while we’re still taking in oxygen, and as my Dad used to say, “. . . able to sit up and take nourishment.” I want to live fully as long as I’m able. And for me, that means finding new ways to create and contribute.

Third, this energy, this drive won’t last forever so I need to make the most of it. (So do you, by the way.) I know there will come a time in life when I don’t have the energy I have now. I’ll be eating breakfast at 5, lunch at 10:30, and dinner at 3. I’ll develop some strange fascination with Buicks. I’ll miss large patches of my beard when I shave. I’ll take stairs one at a time. But, that day isn’t today. And, it likely isn’t tomorrow.

So, for this day and for as many days as God allows, I will resist. Not the look of aging. Those that try to resist looking older often end up looking like bad caricatures of their former selves. Besides, I like the lines on my face. They project dignity and wisdom. At least, that’s what I tell myself. Now, full disclosure, I’m not a huge fan of the hair coming out of my ears or gravity’s impact on my body, but it happens. To. All. Of. Us.

No, I will resist other pitfalls of aging. I will resist the pitfalls of an aging mindset.

• I’ll resist the urge to just put in my time.

• I’ll resist the urge to say, “I’ve seen this all before.”

• I’ll resist checking out of life.

Some might suggest that my resistance is just about holding onto a relevance that is slipping away. That would be to misread me. My resistance is not about recapturing or maintaining a youth that once was. My resistance is exactly the opposite. I think of St Paul’s writing that when he was a child, he spoke and acted as a child, but when he became an adult, he let go of childish things. Somewhat in that same spirit then, I refuse to hold onto the past when a brand new future with new responsibilities and opportunities are in front of me. I resist the urge to think that my time for creative contribution is behind simply because I’ve reached a certain milestone (65) in life.

So, I resist that urge to only look backwards by engaging

• Creatively: Writing this substack for myself and my 64 loyal readers. (One more and I match my age! Who’ll be next?)

• Professionally: Expanding my horizons by engaging more with professional associations and on LinkedIn with others in higher education.

• Spiritually: Being confirmed as Anglicans because, after all of these years, Sue and I felt God calling us to some more ancient expressions of our Christian faith.

There was no strategy to this. I didn’t sit down and map out how I needed to frame up the next stage of life. It began with this simple question: Now what?

Thanks to all for reading!

#asburyseminary #joy #retirement #aging