Retirement Worries
I recently retired after 40+ years in the great American workforce, the last 28 of which were with the same environmental NGO. My work was personally satisfying but clearly hadn’t been successful enough to save the planet, so I decided it was time to hang up my cleats and let a new generation of bright young do-gooders have their turn.
At the back of my mind, I kept remembering Joe Namath and his final painful season as a quarterback with the Los Angeles Rams. He lasted four games and threw more interceptions than touchdowns before he was benched with bad knees and a drinking problem. I wanted to depart with good memories and before anyone began questioning my play calling.
Retirement was no rash decision. l thought it through and prepared very thoroughly for what’s to come, though figuring out health care was intimidating. What worries me more, I’ll admit, is all the cheesy, clichéd retirement advice people so willingly share.
You can’t imagine, for example, how many acquaintances have congratulated me—why?—and then lobbied me on the virtues of “giving back.” They claim it will help me find purpose and satisfaction with my life. Ahem, what do they think I’ve been doing all these years? Working as an arms dealer? Of course, I don’t say that, as I know their intentions are good. I just bite my tongue and mumble through some sort of thoughtful response.
There are those who tell me retirement is so great because I’ll finally be able to “check off the items on my bucket list.” Please…I retired to get away from to-do lists. And why are Americans so obsessed with supposedly transformative experiences? Is naked hot yoga in a Nepalese yurt really going to make your life complete or will it simply remind you how inflexible your back and hips are? Time to kick the bucket list.
My gay brothers and sisters aren’t immune to dishing out the retirement advice either. Whenever someone recommends I “do a cruise,” my skin crawls. Does one “do” a cruise or does one “go on” a cruise? Gay guys these days seem as fanatical about ocean and river cruises as they used to be for stainless steel kitchen appliances and granite countertops. I can’t understand the appeal, given the oh-so-fabulous stories I’ve heard—ships stuck in river mud, gangs of marauding children, non-stop disco music, tacky ports-of-call, breakfast buffets, and respiratory and gastrointestinal illnesses. The most harrowing, however, is the assigned seating at dinner with the same group of people. Every night! I just can’t imagine.… Let me tell you, when it comes to cruising, I’d much rather do mine on the beach with a chilled bottle of wine and a good book.
The ladies, on the other hand, are all pushing me to take up pickleball, a trendy sport invented by a rich Republican politician and his friends from exclusive Bainbridge Island outside of Seattle. I wonder if they know that little factoid. What I know is a lot of retirees injure themselves on the pickleball court just for the opportunity to hit a wiffle ball. Knee strains and fractures and plantar fasciitis, oh my. Nope, not for me.
Last, but not least, is the advice coming from zoned-out over-medicated people who look at me with their smug little smile and tell me how great it is that I’ll finally be able to “live my best life.” Millions of posts on Instagram and Facebook today carry the #liveyourbestlife tag, which I find astonishing because I don’t really understand its meaning. Is anyone out there not trying to live his or her best life? The other day I purchased a chainsaw on a pole, fixed myself a bourbon and ginger ale, and then spent a couple hours whacking back overgrown bushes. It needed to be done and, yes, I found it very satisfying. But is it hashtag worthy?
Honestly, it all makes my head spin. There’s enough real-world anxiety out there when it comes to retirement and aging: inflation, inadvertence, incontinence. And those are just the “i” words. Must I now worry about committing to an amped-up, keep-up-with-the-joneses retired life driven by sappy inspirational phrases and silly bucket lists? #ayyaiyaiitsjusttoomuch. #thankgodforgummies. ▼
Rich Barnett is the author of The Discreet Charms of a Bourgeois Beach Town, and Fun with Dick and James.