A Tale of Two Possibilities

I have to admit, I did not see the first few months of retirement playing out the way it has.

I also have to admit, I'm kinda glad I'm retired, what with the last few weeks playing out the way they have.

When we look back on this period in history, I wonder how the story of  the Great Novel Coronavirus Outbreak and Pandemic of 2019-2020 will be told.

Will it be a tale of woe? A tale of great suffering and death and disease?

Will it be a tale of conspiracy and intrigue, told as some sort of dark deed by dastardly forces to condemn mankind to an era of plague?

Will it be a tale of fear and dread, told in a dystopian future of crumbling cities where people huddle in decrepit buildings, hiding from things that go bump in the night?

Ok, Admittedly, that's a bit of dark musing on my part. Mostly in jest, but hey, who knows.

Alene and I have been doing our part to stay at home and keep the "social distancing" expectations put forth by the health authorities. After a few days of exchanging "what the heck do we do now" looks with each other, we settled on a plan (or more accurately, Alene imposed a plan)  of doing some deferred chores, some spring cleaning, some yard-work, some reading, and just generally enduring the social distancing thing the best we can.

But we also think about what we have in the house. Do we have enough (insert the commodity of the day) to last for a while? I think most of us are thinking about such things.

I mean, come on - have you shopped for toilet paper recently?

(In the future, when the tales of these times are told, and the history books are written, the toilet paper shortage will without a doubt be the most glaring "WTF" part of the whole saga.) 

But, back to retirement. I consider myself quite fortunate to have a dependable retirement income, sufficient supplies (beer and wine- lets be real), a home to live in, and a partner who is a planner and a doer. I mean, Alene is good at getting things done. For that, I'm a lucky guy.

I've fallen into the pit of despair and depression once or twice during these recent events. My depression is mostly situational, meaning (for me) I know how to get out of it with activities and positive interactions with friends and family. As anyone with depression knows, though, "knowing" what to do to help yourself, and actually getting up and "doing" that thing is sometimes extremely difficult.

Staying positive is sometimes hard. But I am so super encouraged by reading, on Facebook and in news stories, about those people who are making a real effort to be helpful and kind during these difficult times.

Man, they are the light of world, in a real way.

And I'm certain there are hundreds if not thousands of unsung stories of kindness and compassion that go untold every day. I truly believe that. I really think people are, by and large, more compassionate and kind than we give credit for.

Given inspiration and direction, I think more people will rise to compassion than succumb to fear.

Alene and I have shared our supply of toilet paper with a few friends who have expressed a need.  I'm sure some of you have too.

Or food, or medicines. Have you maybe made a meal for someone who's not feeling well?

I'm sure some of you have. Its that easy. Compassion is really that easy.

Just be sure to give air hugs from 6-feet away. Maybe blow a kiss.

Anyway, enough preaching.

I have plans to volunteer back at the SSD Comm Center. I have the utmost respect and admiration for my co-workers who go to work everyday, even amid the fears and uncertainty, to provide an indispensable service for society. I look forward to joining you, if only one or two days a week.

I have been contacted by the California Southern Baptist Disaster Relief, who are putting together an 800-number hotline for those Californians who need someone to talk to during these times, to be a part of a  phone-in-chaplaincy program, to offer an ear, some prayer, and some emotional comfort for those who need it. I start that sometime in April.

Alene and I started our garden, planting carrots, onions, potatoes, tomatoes, and basil so far, just in case the dystopian nightmare starts sooner than we anticipated. (If we need the produce of our garden to survive, I figure we can do like astronaut Mark Whatney in "The Martian", and take those potatoes and "science the sh*t out of this!")

Overall, life is good. I pray for those in tougher circumstances, though; those out of work, those with children at home and time on their hands, or those who are having a hard time finding daycare. I pray for our medical personnel, our doctors and nurses, and our first responders,

You know what? I also pray for the grocery store clerks, the clerks stocking shelves, the deli-workers who earn a pittance, but have suddenly become essential to society. The delivery drivers, the postal workers, the restaurant owners trying to keep their business afloat so they can rehire workers when this is all over.

When the future looks back on this time, will it be a tale of woe? A cautionary tale of what can go wrong when a society crumbles in on itself?

Or will it be a tale of perseverance, of strength, of compassion, and heroic tales of selflessness and sharing?

I hope for the latter. I see evidence that I may be right. I hope that I am.

You and I can be a part of that latter tale.

What do we want future historians to say about us?

Did I Do This On Purpose?

January 9th, 2020. A date that will live in infamy.

Its been exactly two months today since I retired. It seems like longer, but its only been two months.

But its been a long two months.

I've tried to keep busy.

My wife and I took a cruise shortly after I retired.

My daughter came to visit for a week (which was just wonderful!).

I've gone to our cottage for a few days (it was rather cold, and I felt too isolated, but it was nice).

I've gone fishing a few times (not catching, as you may already know about me).

My wife and I went to Calistoga and soaked in the hot pools for a few days. (Yeah, I took one for the team on this one.) 

I've read a couple of books, which I talked about in my previous post.

I've joined the choir at church.

I attend a bible-study on Saturday mornings.

I do.... stuff.

I do.....things.

To honest, retirement has a lot more free-time to fill than I thought it would. (Yes I'm whining, but hear me out.)

Its really not a struggle to fill the time. I could fish, read, sing, study, and sit at our cottage and look at the woods for days. It can find ways to fill my time.

But what I'm having trouble with is finding purpose in what I do to fill my time.

I'm finding that I deeply miss the purpose that work brought to my daily life.

To be clear, I'm not missing the work. Not at all.

Nada. Zilch. Zero.

To hear the phrase "911, what is your emergency?" still kinda makes me cringe.

I don't miss the work. I do plan on going back to it as a retiree, working part time for extra money and such, but I really don't miss it.

What I do miss is the purpose I had in getting up, getting dressed, and driving to a place to do a job that I'd done for many years. I miss feeling needed and a part of a larger whole. I miss feeling part of a team, if that makes sense.

It seems that purpose is my word-du-jour. My go-to for when I try to explain the answer to the ubiquitous question.... "So, how's retirement going?"

It seems to me that purpose is a vital component to life.

It seems that purpose is a vital ingredient in fighting depression.

It seems that a lack of purpose makes it hard to get up in the morning.

I also miss the comrade of co-workers and friends.

Even if work relationships don't develop into deep, abiding friendships (some do, and of those I'm fairly envious), there is a relationship with co-workers that is unique in our lives.

Co-workers spend a lot of time together. Often, more than we spend with our own families.

After many years, the space and context that co-workers take up in our lives becomes a lot like family.

Part of (probably ALL of) whatever pleasure or joy I had going to work was in seeing and being with the people that I worked with.

Knowing I was respected and, yes, loved, is something I hadn't expected to miss as much as I do.

Helping, guiding, and listening to, and just caring for the people I worked with was fulfilling on a level I didn't realize I'd miss.

(To fully transparent, at this point in writing, I'm crying like a 2nd-grader in the school cafeteria that lost his lunch money.)

All of this is a part of the purpose that I've lost in retirement.

Work (the job itself, doing the things).

Friends (daily banter and chatter with human beings).

Family (talking things out, sharing burdens, dissing on callers, bitching about polices, talking about goals and dreams and kids).

Someone should do a frickin' psychological workshop as part of retirement planning. Let people know what they're getting into. It's not all green fields and lollipops and rainbows and unicorns.

Some of it is kinda like a desert, where you lose sense of direction.

(I mean, its not all bad either! I'm writing from a spot with a touch of depression, I realize that, so understand..... I'm not sorry I retired! Far from it! I'm just trying to find my footing on this new trail.)

My wife is a dear, and she is doing her best to try to help me figure out my next steps. She has been very patient and accommodating. She loves me dearly.

I did have a few well-meaning retirees give me some pre-retirement advice, but to be honest, most of it was not helpful. It was what they did, and how they navigated their retirement.

But, this is my journey. My road. My trail.

So, this was more of a venting journal entry than anything else. I really don't even know what to do with it.

I guess I just keep on moving forward. Looking for new purpose. A reason to get up in the morning.

(I will, in all likelihood, see you work-peeps pretty soon, when I start my volunteer time in the Comm Center. Until then..... happy trails?

One can hope!)