My friend Cassie and I were talking about retirement a few weeks ago. Like a Boy Scout, she is prepared. She has been prudent throughout her life to ensure that she would be able to retire in relative comfort.
Me? I tend to piss her off now and again because of my cavalier attitude about those so-called Golden Years. For me, it’s not something I’ve ever given much thought about, largely because:
- The future is an illusion. I only have right now, this moment that is guaranteed. There’s no way to guarantee a tomorrow, let alone 20 or even 10 more years.
- A dollar today is worth a dollar. In 20 years, the one million dollars I could have today will only be worth $500,000, thanks to inflation, while actual buying power has whittled it away even farther.
- The thought of retiring sounds very, very boring.
I guess it’s all my fault to begin with. I’ve already been retired. For almost 20 years, I sat at home, made stuff up and people sent me checks. I didn’t punch a clock. I worked as much or as little as I wanted to. I traveled all over the place on someone else’s dime as a pirate. I woke up in some very strange places and with some equally strange people. And for the last three of those years, I lived beachside in Florida, staring out at the ocean as I wrote in shorts and flip-flops, knocking off work before it got too warm so I could enjoy a tall cool one with my feet comfortably tucked into the sand.
Gee, that sure sounds like retirement to me. Yes, I could have waited an eternity to retire when I was old and gray, but really, why not retire here and there a bit at a time? Why not enjoy those retirement years while you still had your health and vitality in your youth, when you could easily stay up all night chasing dreams and tail in some tropical locale, writing checks that you know you would never be able to cash in the morning.
I’ve been told by a good friend of mine that I have lived a big life. I’m not really sure what that means… a big life. It’s just life to me, something I’ve created both intentionally and accidentally each and every day. Yes, I’ve had some real adventures. I’ve met some amazing people and I’ve done some amazing things that thankfully, I didn’t have to wait until some mysterious Golden Years to experience.
I can blame this all on the tropics. My first time on a jet and my first time out of the country happened when I was just 24. I was off to the Caymans for 10 days of fun in the sun as a pirate. What’s not to like about that kind of duty?
One of my tasks was to meet cruise ships in Hog Sty Bay every morning. Cruise ships. Hey! I watched the Love Boat. That means swinging bikini-clad single women looking to meet some handsome stranger on a romantic tropical isle. This was going to be fun.
So there I was, meeting my first tender from the ship. Sure enough, off pours all these ladies – old, wrinkly ones in muumuus – accompanied by old wrinkly men in Bermuda shorts, struggling to get their walker off the boat.
These folks had spent their entire lives saving up for this moment so they could finally travel at their leisure. And they were too old and crinkly to enjoy it. Instead of hitting the bar across the street or heading for some conch fritters at a neighboring restaurant, they boarded air-conditioned tour coaches for a canned presentation of the island in perfect safety and comfort.
Just freaking shoot me if I ever think this is the way to go in life. I just can’t picture a day when I finally say, “Thanks for the gold watch. I’m looking forward to the Golden Years.” Hell, I might as well say, “Thanks for the gold watch. I’m looking forward to dying of boredom instead of old age.”
Now that I am 57, I am a lot closer to the Golden Years than I used to be, at least the Golden Years everyone else talks about. I still don’t think they are something I want to be involved with. Yes, my get up and go takes a little longer to get going these days and I fall asleep for no good reason at all sometimes, but a life of leisure? I just can’t picture it as it’s not part of my soul.
I still like writing checks I know I can no longer cash. I will go on a tear at night and wake up with a headache and aches and pains everywhere.
Where I used to be able to go right back at it the next day, it may take me a couple days to recoup. But then I’ll go right back at it. One of my dearest friends is 91 years old. He is my idol. He still has a twinkle in his eye and a zest for life that others could only dream of having. He has no time for a rocking chair or playing Pinocle or Canasta. Hell, I don’t even think he knows what those things are.
Yes, he’s “retired.” He did leave his job, but now he is a photographer who is quite talented and has sold some of his work at art shows. He is always ready for an adventure and when we are in proximity of one another, all hell breaks loose, just as it did when we were in the Caymans together 30 years ago.
He continues to roll the dice, just like I do. And I can’t see that ever changing.
For those of you who’ve played it safer or invested wisely, you may have the last laugh. But remember, no one knows how long they are going to be on this rock. Checkout time at the old Life Hotel can come very unexpectedly and all that dough you’ve been squandering away could just end up with your lazy children who, thanks to their inheritance, are pretty glad you’ve moved on.
The simple fact is, there’s no guarantee you get a tomorrow. Not even later today. You get now. That’s it. That’s all life can offer you. Yes, you can save for a rainy day.
It’s all good if you do. But remember: that rainy day may never come.
If it does, you have my permission to honk your horn as you fly by me in your new Cadillac or Buick. Go ahead and splash my sorry old ass shuffling down the street, mumbling to myself, pushing my shopping cart. Laugh away.
Just know that I’ll be laughing right back, remembering all the crazy times I’ve had in this world, all the brilliant moments of clarity I’ve had, tempered by all the idiotic decisions I’ve made as well that kept me zig-zagging throughout life, enjoying the hell out of it all.
With any luck at all, I’ll still have enough of my faculties to spin a few more tall tales and keep people – especially me – entertained before I, like everyone else, turns to dust.
In the Emerald City, trying to remember where I put the dice as it’s time for another roll or two,
Robb