Archives for September 2018

I’ve heard that some baby boomers feel like they should be winding down things on their to-do list, and I just want to emphatically state that it’s not going to happen in my world.

What? Winding down because you don’t want to add any new tasks or goals to your life? You want to coast the rest of the way? You don’t need the distractions?

I call bullshit. You do what you want but I think it’s important to keep adding things to the list rather than letting it atrophy. I’ve got places to go, new things to learn, more books to read, people to meet. I want to expand the to-do list not shrink it. If you’re finally at a place where you can do some of the things you always wanted to do, winding down the to-do list is totally counterintuitive.

Make no mistake –– I’m not against occasionally sitting back and contemplating my navel. I’ve earned that privilege. Maybe an end-life of contemplation made sense when life expectancy was a lot lower age than it is today, but if you’re going to live to 100 do you really think it’s rational to loaf all the way there from age 65? That’s a lot of downtime.

I thought baby boomers were going to be different when it came to retirement. Golf and shuffleboard were on the way out and personal improvement and a more hyperactive lifestyle were on the way in. No gold watch after 30 years of service with the same company, and that was okay because our varied worklife was more interesting and rewarding. Once again, boomers were going to make different choices from what our parents did. Slowing down was not going to be the goal of our retirement.

While the idea of just wasting time may sound like a plus if you’ve been a striver all your life, this striver thinks it’s exactly what it sounds like. A waste of time. You could be trying to learn a new language, taking a welding course, fusing glass, or getting better at Scrabble. In fact, it’s time to create a bucket list, not time to shorten your to-do list.

Jay Harrison is a graphic designer and writer whose work can be seen at DesignConcept. His mystery novel, Head Above Water, is available on Amazon and Kindle. You can also visit his author page here.

Dale and I both like pretzels, although he gets extra salty, and I like extra dark. We usually keep them in stock, but somehow both kinds mysteriously disappeared from the drawer where we keep them. I was away Monday night for a golf outing, and when I returned Tuesday, I noticed a bright new bag of extra salty pretzels but none of the extra dark.

Here we go again.

I said, “I noticed you replenished your pretzel supply. Why didn’t you get me any? You know I like the extra dark.”

He went into this harangue about how he doesn’t pretend to keep track of what I eat from day to day, and I’m always changing, and how can he be expected to know whether I want them or not? I said I’ve been eating them for six months and have never complained, so one would assume I still enjoy them and might appreciate a bag if you are already at the store anyway … buying some for yourself.

In the end, I caved. I agreed he can’t be responsible for knowing what I want. He is not to buy pretzels for me unless I specifically request them. He said perfect, that’s the way we will proceed. For the record, it was not a nasty conversation. We’re both a wee bit argumentative, but we come by it naturally.

Part of the problem is Dale was an award-winning debater in high school, and I was quite successful as a persuasive speaker in both high school and college. We met in the military, we were both leaders in our careers and we both like being in charge. However, our energy for the duel has waned with age and retirement, and we have gotten better about quitting before one of us gets a sword through the chest.

The next day he says he’s going to the store for pickles and will buy me pretzels while he’s there. I said, did I ask for them? I thought we had an agreement, or was it a dream? I mean, we went through all that only so you can ignore the new policy? He said no, you didn’t ask for them, but I’ll get you pretzels anyway. I said, no, that’s not what we agreed to. He said OK, no pretzels.

A few minutes later I heard his keys jingle and asked, “Are you going to the store now?” He said yes.

“Will you please get me some of the extra dark pretzels?”

I could hear him laughing all the way down the stairs, and it didn’t stop until the front door closed behind him.

Donna Pekar is an aging badass (for real) who lives in California and writes Retirement Confidential.