Retirement Attitude

Oughtabiography

Looking back and looking forward

Rick and Jim/morning walk in Retirement/by author

This thought of my “oughtabiography” has been floating around the back of my mind for several months. I believe the word first entered my consciousness when I retired last December. I had many ideas about what retirement would be like and how I would use my retirement time. I’ve found out now, more than six months later, that none of my preconceived ideas have any resemblance to my retirement reality.

My work life spans a full six decades, as does my husband’s. We both began working when we were just over 10 years old. I think there the similarities end, as our families and opportunities were quite different.

My first real employment was sweeping up a small barbershop in my neighborhood back in Oklahoma. Marci, the barber, cut my hair and my dad’s and brother’s, as well. He offered me the job of coming in at the end of the day and sweeping up, giving the floor a good mopping, and emptying the trash. I made 50 cents an hour in 1960’s Oklahoma, and no law prevented me from working. Well, none that I was aware of.

In our very small southern Oklahoma town, it didn’t seem at all unusual for a 10-year-old to have a key to the barbershop. I could come and go after hours, and I lived up to his expectations, as I kept the job until another job came along when I was a bit older.

Thus began my odyssey through more than 30 or 40 job titles as I worked my way through high school, then college, then to my first professional job of teaching secondary school. My work history is colorful and varied, and each job filled a time slot and a need at the time. Many times, I took jobs simply because they met the open time period I was trying to fill.

While earning my bachelor’s degree, I never had fewer than two jobs while a full-time student. I often had three to four jobs so I could fill the open time slots available. I was paying for my college, so there was never a question about working day and night to meet the expenses of my own car, insurance, student housing, meals, fuel, clothes, and social life.

Fortunately, I came from a working family that had instilled in me a farm boy, country work ethic, which allowed me to view this as quite normal. During three years of working as a floor assistant in the dorms, I clearly recall one of my freshman students checking out of the university, all the while complaining that he simply “couldn’t find a job.” I thought to myself, “Well, that’s because I have most of them!”

Then, last October in 2025, my husband and I went to see the last movie of the British Downton Abby series. Daisy the assistant cook is asking Mrs. Patmore, the #1 cook, if she is sad about leaving her job and retiring from family service after her 50 years. Mrs. Patmore is pensive for a moment. She then says, “Our lives are lived in chapters. There is nothing sad about one chapter ending and another one beginning.”

I immediately turned to my husband and said, “We are giving notice at work tomorrow.” We had been vacillating about retirement dates for six months. I was 71, he a year or so younger, and we were both weary of working in death care at the same funeral home complex for the past 16 years.

So. The day we gave a two-month notice, and walked out of work on the same day, more or less. The family-owned company, with a hundred employees, was wonderful in its send-off. They gave us a nice parting gift as well as an afternoon luncheon for our fellow employees to come by with their well wishes and good luck messages for retirement.

Thus began our “oughtabiography” time of life. What had we “ought to be doing” with our time? Volunteer? Look for part-time work? Read and garden? Travel? The possibilities were endless but governed by retirement funds and health limitations.

So, how has this worked out for us?

My husband adjusted much more easily than I. He loves his gardens, and even in winter, is busy planning his assault on the front, back, and sides of the house when spring finally hits and we can get outdoors. He didn’t miss being at a company job at all.

I was very anxious, suddenly finding myself free of the pressure of showing up to an office somewhere every day, completing reports, and providing information to the families we served.

I do enjoy writing, and I finally had time to be at my desk, working on projects that I had put off until retirement. I still felt anxiety. I did try to do some volunteering, but that didn’t turn out well, for various reasons, one of them being finding out I was working with a very close-minded bigot. Thus, I didn’t remain in that situation for long. I don’t need that in my life at my age!

The sudden death of one sister and the illness of another have occupied some of my time, as well as issues that come with settling an estate. Repairs around the house and garage have taken up some time, as well as beginning to downsize. Once you reach 70, you begin to realize that no one wants your old high school newspapers, yearbooks, and the big box of cards and letters that come to you through the years.

**Brian Rosta**, a much-revered writer on Medium, recently wrote a wonderful essay on retirement, and you will find many more on his home page. You can read his helpful words about how to view retirement in this essay he wrote. I have found his advice and outlook on retirement very helpful as I have worked my way through the past six months.

[embed]Retirement Doesn’t Need to Be a Full-Time Project The “stay busy or die” myth is overratedmedium.com

After spending some time traveling to visit a friend in Arizona, then a six- week stint of volunteering, plus doing all of the “ought to get done” repairs and fixes around the house, I find myself beginning to relax.

The “ought to” thoughts are fewer. The pressure to stay busy is lighter. We enjoy the deliberation of our coffee time together in the morning. We enjoy the progression of blooms and the growth of our gardens, and the rapid development of our tomato plants.

We have two families of red squirrels, each with numerous babies, learning to climb, jump, and empty our feeders each morning while we relax, watching from the porch. The blue jays scold us and everyone around as they fight with the squirrels for peanuts, and we have two pairs of beautiful red cardinals raising babies, one on each side of the yard.

My husband is usually anxious to get to his various garden chores, and I join him for as long as arthritis and mobility problems allow, then I retreat to my desk. I no longer fret about the pressures of deadlines, or the lack thereof.

I am working my way through my own minutiae of memorabilia, and I have been sending family pictures off to those who I think may be interested. I have been tossing old cards and letters without guilt. I am the only one who is interested in what they have to say, and no one wants to wade through them when I am gone. Best to decide their fate myself.

I am not just “marking time.” I am enjoying time. I have earned this time of freedom to read, write, and put my tiny legacy in order. We have made our final end of life preparations. Our cremation/burial details are on file locally. Our will is done. Our debts other than mortgage are paid.

We are not wealthy, by anyone’s ideas of wealth. We budget our groceries, travel money, and meals out, which these days are less and less common. But even at that, I realize we are better prepared for our retirement than at least 90 percent of Americans, mostly due to my husband’s excellent management to prepare us for these retirement years.

I am on the downhill side of 72. My children are grown and doing well in life. My husband and I have survived 30-plus relationship years. We each have come through serious health issues and find we received “the best version of the worst news” each time, and here we are still able to enjoy our porch morning and evening, and each plan our day as we see fit.

Having lived through two pandemics in our years together, we feel gratitude and neither of us take any day given to us for granted. We know how quickly that can change. Each day is a gift. That is why it is called, “The Present.”

With the days we have yet to enjoy, I feel fortunate to be where I am, with the person I am with, and in the situation we have built. That is about all any of us can ask for from life.

Jim is a retired Secondary school teacher, and a retired Death Care Specialist. He resides in Iowa, in a one-hundred and sixty-five year old home, with dogs, cats and gardens.

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