London – I am sitting at the kitchen table in a small flat off the Camden Town stop on the Northern Line of the London Underground. I am here with a collection of students on a study abroad winter break excursion, ostensibly as the second chaperone. I am not really needed much, as one of my colleagues is in charge of this event and is pretty much running the entire show. He’s been doing it for maybe eight years now. I sort of get the feeling that this is a “retirement gift,” because there is little for me to actually do, and I am pretty free to do as I please short of a few gatherings and going to the shows. I am paying nothing for this trip – all expenses paid. So I am very grateful indeed, even if it is “unofficial.”
It is New Year’s Day, and last night I saw a delightful little show entitled The Play That Went Wrong. I wandered about the West End for bit, taking a few photos until the battery in the camera gave out, drank a pint at the Nag’s End Bar, and had to walk some distance to catch an open tube line home. One thing that irritates me about London is that the Underground stops operating about midnight or so, making late-night travel a bit of a pain. But I watched the fireworks on TV and promptly went to sleep. So much for New Year’s Eve.
I am now officially retired from teaching and from running the theatre and dance department. I have one more official responsibility – directing the spring musical The Pirates of Penzance. Technically I don’t have to be at work until rehearsals begin in February. It is an odd feeling, a mixture of relief and anxiety. “Bittersweet” is a good word to describe it. I’ve been asked many times “What are you going to do now?” And my standard answer always is “Decompress.” But I think that will really not happen until Pirates closes and I can truly walk away. The next calendar milestone is April 8.
When I think of the future, I pretty much draw a blank. The most unexpected realization has been that there is a whole new life to create in some way, shape or form. I guess I was not expecting to see a blank slate in front of me. I am allowing myself time to see what shapes up, but the interim does cause a bit of anxiety.
Some things I have realized as I am approaching 65 and the end of a working career:
- I have been in a classroom for 60 years. I know almost no other working or living environment. In that time my life has been completely driven by the academic calendar. I’ve never had a fall vacation.
- I’ve taught for 42 years, with only one bump in the road.
- I don’t think I’m an expert on anything. Despite years devoted to education, I don’t think I’ve mastered anything much at all.
- I don’t have much regard for the world around me. I don’t really believe I have a place in contemporary society. It makes finding something to do in retirement that much harder. Very little about modern culture interests me.
- I have a strong desire to wander and live an uprooted existence for a time. With the sensation that so much is behind me, I feel as if I have to go on some sort of search for what’s next. I don’t sense it’s in my back yard.
- Whatever it is I may end up doing, I should get it done fast. The window of time is closing, and naturally my body will soon let me know what its limits are. Right now, from all the walking I’ve been doing in London, my left knee hurts in a way I have not expected, and I have a blister on my right little toe that is causing me to limp.
- Medicaid/Medicare; Social Security; IRAs
- Where to live. Although the house is paid off, I think a different location might be a good idea. Somehow.
But above all, writing. If retirement holds anything for me, it should be in the writing. I would like to write more, and I have a feeling that writing would be a great hobby, and a great release. Above all, writing would offer a chance to spit out ideas and feelings that need an outlet.
So here is the first blog post of 2017. I hope to be much more active in this space. Nothing much will be offered here beyond catching a view of someone’s daily life, and the thoughts that make it up. I have no axes to grind, no positions to take, and no salve for a wounded world. I am not here to save anyone, nor give anyone advice. Just a glimpse of days rolling along. After 50 or so years of trying to change the world, I am done with that. It’s up to others now.
“I’m just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round
I really love to watch them roll
No longer riding on the merry-go-round
I just had to let it go.” -John Lennon