Retirement, The Time Of Your Life

Quite some years ago I had a brief idea of starting a column teaching people how to learn a craft or hobby.  It seemed a matter of self preservation for me at the time.  I was the go-to person for people who get bored.  Nothing to do?  Dial Lou.  Tired of rattling around?  Call Mom.  It's hard to know if they call me because they believe that I'm just rattling around also.  For sure, they never seem to give a thought that I might have something they shouldn't interrupt going on at the other end of the line.


A recent AARP publication inspired these thoughts again.  I couldn't believe the positions taken.  There was dread of how long retirement would be.  Others were urged to frenetically design their unstructured futures.  All the advice (except to save, save, save, for your end years) seemed to take the joy right out of the prospect.  Let me tell you  --  structured or unstructured  --  those years will just zip through your hands. And don't feel you're facing endless hours with nothing to do.  I've many times threatened to go back to work so I can get some rest.  Oh, she's not doing anything, she can run my errands.  He's retired, so we can get him to volunteer at church . . . or school . . . or the hospital.  People who hardly speak to you on a regular day have no reluctance to ask you to take care of their kid, for free if possible.  Those lessons you had at fifty about it being okay to say no, will never be more helpful.  The greatest puzzle to me is how many people, including almost strangers, have seen my education (B. S. in Journalism, M. A. in Educational Research and Psychology, All But Dissertation in School Psychology) as perfect training for cleaning their houses while they gallivant around being pretentious.  I wonder why they think I did all that work being schooled when I could have cleaned houses if I had been a high school dropout.


Then there are the ones who resent you for knowing how to do something that they always wanted to know how to do.  An acquaintance organized a dinner party to introduce me to two people involved in theater.  Her stated reason was she wanted to see my book turned into a play so she could say she knew the author.  Dinner had barely begun before she tells them that I've written a novel.  "Oh, I've always wanted to do that exclaimed one of them."  With that, he exhaled in a disappointed sigh and abruptly changed the subject.  End of her fantasy. 


Envying someone's golf skills or piano playing is common.  It is also a waste of time.  If there are things you have always wanted to know how to do, retirement is the time to do it.  Buy a piano keyboard and learn to play by using self teaching books.  Take bridge or poker lessons. Have a neighbor show you how to crochet.  Her help plus self help books should do the trick. (Offer to pay her for her time).  Take golf, tennis, swim lessons. 


Go to hobby supply stores and inquire about their classes in knit or embroidery.  Join a quilting guild that offers lessons for beginners.  Check out how-to books from the library.  Join a book discussion club.  Buy an old wooden boat and rehab it. Learn to repair small appliances.  Some construction supply stores offer how-to classes if you buy from them.


There is no reason why anyone should ever suffer from lack of activities.  I've even known men who formed Liar's Clubs so they could meet for breakfast and play bragging games with others.


Retirement should be the "time of your life".  So save, save, save now and enjoy it later.  Hobbies can be expensive and it's a sure thing our Congress isn't planning to give up their retirement packages to save ours.


Then tell yourself that anyone of average to above average intelligence can do anything they want as long as they are willing to put forth the effort.  It's true.

We Don't Name Teams After Losers

I know I'm in the minority here, but I've never seen the problem with naming ball teams after Native Americans or any other group.  People sure don't name their teams The Washington Losers --  or The Washington Weasels  --  or The Washington Rats, do they?  It seems to me they try to honor their teams by naming them after the most formidable and respected opponents they know.


In any event, I believe the Washington Redskins were named before the age of paranoia and political correctness came into full bloom.  Would the Redskins be the same under any other name?  Hardly.  Neither would they seem as much a part of our sports groups as they do now.


I know, I know  --  some Native Americans get all bent out of shape about being called by a color.  Yet, others of different skin colors might feel revered.  Let's try the Washington White Skins, for instance.  Why don't we honor them?


If you have followed my three blogs the last few years, you will know that I am part Native American, part redskin so to speak.  You do me honor by choosing one of the races within me for your team name.  I know you would not name the team you love after someone you hate.  I can't imagine where that idea originated.

Bully Behavior

Bully behavior is everywhere.  It touches all walks of life and all age levels.


For instance, there is a bully on television who is currently counseling people on --  you guessed it  --  bullying others.  Just because a person hangs out a shingle and sells himself/herself as a therapist doesn't make the individual perfect.  The famous can have clay feet.


There are bullies on television who are running courtrooms.  It makes for interesting, if controversial, fodder.  However, one who holds as much power as a judge probably should tone it down a tad.


All of us remember bullies in school.  Frequently they were the biggest kids.  Sometimes they were popular with the in crowds.  Always they made the most vulnerable miserable.


Of course, the literature right now is making us aware of bullying in cyberspace.  This kind of bullying often results in teen suicide.


Even people who are seldom out in public can be bullied in their neighborhoods.  I keep running into these related to parking.  No less than three men have taken it upon themselves to tell me where I can and cannot park.  Our complex has no assigned areas.  This is published over and over in the newsletter.  It suggests that we respect the spots where others usually park their cars.  It also says to ask our visitors to park in overload areas instead of near the buildings.  My car was recently in a repair shop for two straight weeks.  People who had previously respected my spot began to use it.  Why wouldn't they?  Even I wasn't sure it was repairable until the end of the two weeks.


When I got the car back, I didn't expect to magically get the space back.  I just began parking in the least congested area near my home.  So, one day when I left for a shopping trip, a guest of a neighbor parked in the spot and stayed there for a few days.  I picked another spot that was used only by visitors.  When I left that spot yesterday, it was taken over by a guest of a neighbor.  So, I picked the next space over that has not had a permanent car for at least two or three months.


All at once two men converged on me saying "Do you want to move on down?"  Well, no I didn't.  I had a bag of library books and groceries to carry.  I had no wish to carry them very far.  Then the man who was the resident of the nearest apartment told me where I used to park  --  as though I were too stupid to know that.  He said I was parked in his space near his sidewalk.  I reminded him he hadn't had a car for some months and that he had lived here long enough to know we don't have reserved parking anyway.  He said we are supposed to respect other people's spots and he had a friend that visited.  You know!  I'm supposed to respect his empty spot for the friend he is supposed to send to the overload lots.


Oh, did I mention?  The other times my spots were taken while I was shopping were taken by friends of his who were visiting.


Needless to say, I did not move my car.  Of course, relationships in the area are strained right now, as they always are with this individual.  I'm told he even deliberately damaged a neighbor's car when said individual parked behind him several years ago.  He has frequent shouting matches with other individuals . . . frequent fires in his fire pit . . . frequent day long parties with loud music and many cars . . . and a habit of badmouthing others to his friends.


Yes, as I said there are bullies everywhere.  For the very vulnerable they can make life miserable.  Some of us just aren't as vulnerable as we appear at age seventy-six.  And some of us have an editorial blog where we can air our issues.  Some people actually even read them.


Regrettably, some of these bullies are serving as models for others.  Tsk, tsk.  I'll hate living near their kids and their nieces and nephews when they become teenagers.

Let's Get The Wild Out

". . . Everything that stops us being animals is eroding, washing away like sand, going and gone."  stated by Mike "Scorcher" Kennedy, a character in Broken Harbor, a novel by Tana French, 2012.


One of my brothers thanked me this week for forwarding a scrap of nostalgia to him.  That's one of the more endearing characteristics of social media.  It can take us back to a less complex, more enjoyable time.  We can be kids again for a couple of seconds.  We can remember walking to church and school without seeing the bogeyman coming around every corner.  And, as in the memory of Scorcher Kennedy, murder rarely happened in his environs.  Much less did we have to fear terrorism on American soil.


I was having a chat with both my God, Jehovah, and Allah the other night, asking them if our religions couldn't peacefully coexist  --  as well as have peace between all the great religions of the world.  Why can't we just offer each other respect?  Why must we always be at odds over the very part of our lives that should bring hope and tranquility?


Scorcher Kennedy said the first thing man did when he became human was to draw a line in front of the cave that said wild stays out.  True.  And the point Tana French seems to be making is we are going wild again. 


Sure seems that way Ms. French.  Sure seems that way!  With all our social media, television and other means of learning how we live in different parts of earth, it would seem we should be aspiring to an improved world.  Why don't we?  Instead, people are using it as a way to attack and organize catastrophic events.  We now have murder going viral; people going wild again. 


As with all major tools of our lives, they can be used for good or bad  --  nuclear energy, bombs or home heat.  A shovel, tool or weapon.  Social media, a way to stay in touch with friends, or a way to organize crime.


May the people of earth get back to the place where they choose good over bad and civilized over wild.  I really miss the peace and simplicity of the fifties.  (I also miss the music).

The Crime Of Being White

I guess I'm not going to be able to eat at a nearby barbeque restaurant anymore.  It was a place I frequented in the early eighties when I worked for the school district here.  It is also the place where I have picked up a takeout sandwich and fries for special occasions these past eighteen years. 


The last time I went  --  on my seventy-sixth birthday the end of July  --  one of the waitresses began growling as soon as I walked in the door.  The clerk who took my order seemed amused at all the guttural noises and kept asking me if I didn't want a drink with my sandwich.


I noticed that no matter where I stood, the noisy one kept moving behind the drink machines.  I was clueless.  I have become used to angry African Americans in the last couple of years.  For some reason I have become a favorite target of black women during this time.  I don't see myself as having changed a lot over the period (though such behaviors could certainly cause big changes), so I'm having trouble understanding the attacks.


During the transaction, a young man who makes the sandwiches moved into view and stood watching in silence.  He, usually a friendly employee, seemed stunned.  But neither he, nor the lady who took my order, tried to stop the growling or the event she was hiding from my view.


As far as I know, I've never seen this young lady anywhere.  This was definitely the first time she had ever plated my food.  I've never worked with her anywhere and believe her to be way too young to have been someone I tested in the school district  --  which can raise a lot of ire if parents or students don't like the test results.


I'm sure the family who owns this barbecue chain would be appalled if they knew of her behavior.  The young lady would probably even lose her job.  You see, when I got home and unwrapped my sandwich, I found a wet spot in the middle of my fries, just the size of a mouth full of saliva.


And African Americans wonder why racism just won't go away when they behave in such a manner for no apparent reason but our crime of being white.

Forgiveness

After many, many years, I finally forgave a relative of mine.  The offense was not a small one and it was committed over and over for years.  It is probably the very offense which caused my need for total autonomy, which does not exist, of course.  I wonder if that person ever got around to forgiving me for my part in our toxic interactions.  I'll never know, as the person preceded me in death.  That speaks to the need for forgiving each other more often and face to face when possible, doesn't it?


I'd like to tell you that the forgiveness lifted a burden from my shoulders.  It did not.  I simply believe it was the right thing to do and that the Almighty is happy I did it.


I've heard it said many times that anger and resentment harm the individual who nurses the feelings, rather than the person who is the target of them.  Frequently, the individual is emotionally consumed by them.  It can affect their entire lives and erode their happiness.  I don't think my anger was that destructive.  In fact, I was probably more hurt than angry.  But it is good, nevertheless, for me to be over it.


Can you forgive others for offenses, large or small?  I hope so.  Many religious people believe it is necessary for our improved relationship with God.

Severe Tests

Anybody of Jewish or Christian faith should know about Job and his trials and tribulations.  God allowed Job's faith to be tested, and he passed with flying colors.


Not all of us are as good at maintaining our equilibrium as Job.  Some of us, even if we eventually pass our crucibles, whine the whole way through.


My Mother was prone to wonder aloud why some people seemed to have such easier lives than others.  She had lost her Mother and her husband at far too early ages.  She was never done with grieving their deaths.


The simple answer, Mother, may be you were stronger than the ones you perceived as having "easy" lives.  So, you may have been able to withstand more serious tests.  It may be that you were unaware of their particular heartaches.  Their crucibles may have been less visible than yours.  Or, for those who believe our souls return to this world time after time, until we "get it right", it might appear that your soul was older and was ready to handle more.


I'm sure it is desirable that we don't whine so much as I did during my last severe test.  (I kept telling God over and over  --  this crucible is too hard, God).  But I think the important thing is that we demonstrate the strength to survive them.