TO RETIRE (v) from the French, ray-teer, meaning, "waiting to die".
Nov 21 '04 (Updated Jan 05 '05)
The Bottom Line As the proctologist once said, "It only hurts if you tense up."
I've bemoaned the fact that my life slipped away from me while I was picking my nose and not paying attention. I've wailed and whined that I'm getting older and older. (No! Really? Are you the only one? No? Then shut up and let the grownups talk!)
I kept on working after I began to get Social Security because the law allows those of us in my age bracket to work full time and receive Social Security without being penalized. I retired from the Navy and then thought that I'd continue to work with the VA and get another retirement. (I like this country--I'll do even better when I learn the language and the customs.)
Suddenly, I'm about to retire. My projected retirement date is 31 December 2004. I'm keeping a running count on my calendar in the office and I'm now down to less than 30 days and a wake-up--the wake-up being 22 December when I go on terminal leave.
Know what? I'M SCARED!!! I've been working since I was tall enough to get my nose up over the counter in my father's grocery store and now, for the first time in over 60 years, I won't have a job. Every time I think of this I get a pang in the pit of my stomach, just like the ones that tell you you've done something wrong and you're in very deep doo-doo now.
The Bride (we're married over 30 years but if I call her that, I don't have to take out the trash) and I have gone over the numbers a hundred times and it always works out the same way: there's enough to live on and then some.
Just think: I won't have to get up at 5:30 when it's still dark. The rest of my life is going to be, not a long weekend, but a very long weekend. The Bride and I won't need two cars now. If it snows and the snow is tail-bone deep on a short giraffe, who cares? I don't have to be anywhere. If we want to just up and go somewhere, we don't need permission from anyone.
These are all the wonderful advantages of being retired. The one disadvantage? I'm still scared. This is a major change in a person's life, on the same level as getting a divorce or losing a loved one. For over 60 of my 67 years, what I do has affected who and what I am, and vice versa. Now my life will be deeply and permanently changed. That's what scares me. Like most people my age, I dislike change.
Wait a minute! What's this "...people my age..." crap? So what if I get into the movies for less money. So what? So what if I can ride on the bus and subway for only a quarter. So what? So what if I can no longer claim on my drivers license that my hair is brown? So what? IT STINKS--that's so what.
Well, since there is nothing I can do about the impending event, I've gritted my teeth, swallowed hard a few times, rubbed my palms on the sides of my trousers and thought, "OK, you old fart, let's do this." I've decided to take advantage of it to the fullest. If I hear of a place where they're giving things free to senior citizens, I'll not only go, I'll bring two changes of clothes and get extra.
I now belong to AARP. Isn't that wonderful? I've succumbed to the badgering from all the media advertising. I thought I was better than that. I now get a magazine from them periodically and it's always got a cover with a picture of a famous person who's over 65. I don't wanna see Maureen O'Hara and be told she's over 65. NO, NO, NO! To me she's still the same stunningly beautiful girl she was in "The Quiet Man".
So, how much time do I have left? Hell, I don't know, but I do know that The Bride and I are gonna grab our butts in our hands and just head out. Us and Captain Kirk: let's see what's out there.
UPDATE #1: I'm now within 20 days of walking out, never to return. I just ran into someone with whom I interviewed for a different position with a higher paygrade. She had told me that I lost out on the job by a hair.
She asked me if the rumor was true that I was about to retire. When I told her it was, she frowned.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Well", she replied, "the woman who beat you out for the job just quit and I'm reposting it and another just like it. If you retire you won't be able to bid for it."
"I'll check with The Bride but I really want to stop. I'm getting tired. However, I'll let you know."
First I found the pay scales and compared my present salary to the one I'd get if I took the job. It turns out that the difference in money between the two was $32.00 a week, GROSS. That would boil down to about $20-25.00 net. Do I want to jeopardize my sanity and my marriage by doing that? I think not.
Second, when I told The Bride, just on a hunch I held the phone about two feet away from my ear. Yup--she screamed. Damn near blew out my hearing aid.
"Ah yoo outta yaw mind!!??" (We're from Boston,that's how we talk, "...and that's the way, uh huh, uh huh, we like it, uh huh, uh huh.")
"I was simply running it past you to see how you felt."
"Well, now you know. Any questions?"
"No, Babe, none."
"In that case, you can now take me out to dinner."
"Yes, Honey."
"I want Chinese. OK?"
"Yes, Dear."
"And then I wanna go to a movie?"
"Fine, Sweetie. Which one?"
"I'll let you know."
"Of course, Tootsie."
I know how to keep a marriage going. My wife is a very smart woman. She has me make all the important decisions, i.e., foreign policy, the country's economic situation and how to solve it, military questions, etc. She, on the other hand, makes those unimportant ones: what we're having for dinner, which bills get paid and when they get paid, what I'll wear today to work and how much money I can have in my pocket today. (Pleeeze, Mummy, kin I have another dollar? Pleeeeeeeeeze? I get thirsty in the afternoon and I could buy a drink.")
"Water's free."
"But..."
"Have a nice drive to work."
Update #2: Well, it's now half-past the first week of January and I've been officially retired now for four days. I left the job on 23 December so I'm actually now 12 days into retirement. Know what? I'm still scared. I go out only if I absolutely have to go somewhere. I can now (usually) sleep past sunrise however, this past week it's been dank (I love that word), dark and dreary (how's that for alliteration?) every morning.
My favorite activity on a Sunday morning is to drink coffee, have my bagel and cream cheese and read the paper. This morning was different only in that it was Wednesday instead of Sunday. While The Bride and Young Son were still asleep, I went down to the kitchen to make coffee. As I stood looking out the window I noticed a movement up the street. I looked and what to my wondering eyes did appear but a white-tail doe walking down the street. WALKING DOWN THE MIDDLE OF MY STREET! A deer! In Randolph, MA. Well, why not--we've got coyotes in town now so why shouldn't we have deer, too?
I watched as she walked right down the middle of the street. She turned and went on the other side of my neighbor's house, then walked through his back yard, into my back yard, then turned and went right into the woods that abut my and my neighbor's property.
The only other time I've ever seen a deer that close up was in the zoo. I was so tempted to open the door and try to call her over. Problem is, I don't speak Deer. I speak English, Yiddish and enough Spanish to get me into trouble but not enough to get out again. However, I never took lessons in speaking Deer so it's not my language. Maybe they've got a course in Ruminant 101 at the Senior Center.
Well, since this will be an ongoing saga, I'll continue this when something new happens. Meanwhile, I'm going to have dinner now. The Bride is making me a surprise. She's a gourmet cook and I'm her very willing taste tester. It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it.
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Epinions.com ID:
masonmaven
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Location: Massachusetts, United States
Reviews written: 38
Trusted by: 9 members
About Me:
Opinionated old fart who calls 'em as he sees 'em.
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