Like everyone in my generation, I have no real memory of not working. I recall when my older brother was assigned tougher duties when I was old enough (just barely) to push the mower. I remember it because of the chewing out I got from screwing it up at the beginning! We worked when we came home from school; we worked every weekend; we worked most of any vacation from school. My father never graduated from high school. In fact, he never attended high school. He was busy walking barefoot behind a pair of mules on a small farm in Northeast Mississippi. He was smart and motivated to pull himself up and most definitely wanted his boys to get an education that he saw everyday hold him back. So, I went to college. I majored in as easy as possible (Sociology) since any college degree then was “success.” Of course, I worked 30-40 hours a week the entire time I worked on my Bachelor’s degree (I switched to Special Education, but that is another story). I did the same for a Master’s and, finally, a Doctorate. I sold men’s clothing and women’s shoes, painted houses, did yard work, loaded and unloaded trucks, worked construction, worked at the Fair in milk bottles (the bottom outside milk bottles are very weighted!), refereed basketball (worse cussings I ever received), and taught school for 30 years. Then I retired.
One of the real goals of retirement for everybody is to have more time for what they want to do, like hobbies, crafts, traveling, perhaps, just not being rushed. I can say this certainly happened for me. I have a lot more time for these activities and have found others I enjoy like writing and gardening. But more time is like a big blanket; it covers everything. Life is filled with decision making both large and small. While I was working I was faced with constant decision-making, and I’d like to think I made the “right” decisions for the most part, with “right” being defined as the best possible with the information and time available. So many decisions have to be made on the run with our busy work schedules. Now, I’ve quit running. While working I always had an excuse for a hurried, possibly “bad” decision: I’m just too busy. I call this The Great Distraction. Do the best you can with what you have, move on, and face the next situation. There just isn’t enough time to reflect carefully on every decision because you have more pressing matters---your job!
The point is once you retire, you will have time to do all those hobbies, etc., but you will also have time to reconsider so many decisions you made through the years with a new evaluation of their “rightness.” I’ve discovered this can be a very humbling, troubling process. I realize now how many decisions I made with the apparent intention of helping someone “solve” some problem, but now I realize many of my decisions were perhaps about me not feeling bad. For a person who hates regrets, this can be hard. I do not have any specific suggestions about how to avoid this situation other than to make the best decisions you can for long term rather than short term benefits. I only want to warn the process can be tough, even painful. Being prepared for any stress seems to help me, so I hope this helps others.
For those wondering what kind of decisions I am describing, I will share a poem I wrote to my son about this issue a few years ago. I didn’t realize just what the feelings motivating the poem were when I composed it, but I’d like to think I do now. Childhood is a time for trial and error, a polite way of saying success and failure. However, while failure can make for a long ride home or even a tough weekend for all those involved, sugar coating failure can cause more pain later.
More Enlightenment
Circus performers have
nothing on parents!
The juggling acts we do
truly are a great show.
We initially define
our roles as protectors.
We slowly evolve
protection into facilitation.
We continue the process
as facilitation becomes
support.
But we never really
remove a role; we just add more.
The rub begins when one role requires another
of equal value to fade.
I have said before that
Aaron deserves the right
to fail as much as I did, but I think I understand it more now.
Of course, all parents want their children happy, healthy, and successful.
The problem is success will almost assuredly require unhappiness.
It might be more appropriate to wish for health and respect,
because I suspect happiness will follow.
What I see now is there are no short cuts to respect.
Respect isn’t earned by continued success, but more by resolve after failures.
The lure of American Idol is to “earn” success in 6 weeks.
It just doesn’t work that way.
March, 2009
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