Staying Relevant

One of the frequent laments that Sharon hears from other women here age is the fear that their spouse is ‘getting old’ on them. It’s a real concern that the man in their life is closing down to the real world. They fear their partner’s opinions, attitudes and reactions reflect a continuing disconnect from everyday reality. Many of these men see a world that is changing all around them and they don’t like it.

Growing up I noticed the same thing. A lot of older folks (I guess that would be anyone over 30) seemed to be out of touch with the reality of the day. Granted, it was my reality but they still seemed to be living in their own secluded, isolated little world. As I grew older, they did too and in the process, I could see a gap growing between my daily life and the new routines they’d created for themselves.

News correspondent Tom Brokaw celebrated this generation by calling them ‘the greatest generation.’ He hero-worshipped their struggles during the Great Depression, their heroic actions in World War II and their resiliency during the post-war recovery.

This was the generation I was supposed to look up to for guidance, inspiration and an idea of what one does when one has lived a full life and is now retired. I was of the boomer generation which was followed by Gen-Xers, Millennials - and so forth. Each generation supposedly possessing special and unique qualifications that made them something special. But it was the ‘greatest generation’ was started it all. Supposedly, started it all. I beg to differ.

While most of us morphed into adulthood and were facing daily challenges and struggles with our jobs, career advancements, relationships, world events, politics and living in our community, many of the ‘greatest generation’ had divorced themselves from that past life of theirs.

I had the feeling that they’d been through all of that before and now they just wanted to enjoy their retirement and abstain from the daily rigors of earning a living and living a life. They were retired or near it and wanted to shed themselves of the challenges most of us were facing on a daily basis.

They were no longer working their nine-to-five jobs. Their kids were out of the house and the grandkids were scheduled between card games, salon appointments, group outings and grocery shopping. They had created for themselves a calm, orderly way of life, purposely devoid of the harsh realities most of us still faced on a daily basis. It was their comfort zone and they were sequestered there for the duration.

On the surface, it seemed a well-deserved retirement schedule forged out of long hours at work and raising a family. My only argument against that supposed plateau of peace and serenity was the separation from the rest of us working stiffs. Moreover, it hurt mainly them not us.

The downside of that entrenched isolationism on their part is that they were not staying relevant to the world around them. The world continued on and they stayed in their old place, stuck in the past even as it became more and more irrelevant. Business, communications, and world events continued to morph and evolve and they stayed in their isolated happy place.

Monday morning quarterbacking became a favorite game to play because they had the time. Old men gathered at the coffee shop to talk at one another and seldom if ever listened to what was being said. If and when they did happen to listen, the conversation usually centered around bitching about taxes, local and national government, believing the propaganda all the political parties were spewing forth on the air waves and in print. It was seldom if ever positive and more likely a sad lament of times past and the failures of future generations rather than their own.

Now I am, and millions more like me are, of that senior generation. The boomers are getting older and some, unfortunately, have morphed into that same isolationist routine of living. The corner coffee shop is full of old men bitching about taxes, politics and politicians and the futility of trying to talk sense into that younger generation. Here we go all over again.

Staying relevant to the world around us seems to be the only answer for my generation. To stay informed, involved and committed to something is far better than to remain entrenched in yesterday and the glory of one’s past. The world cares little for our opinion. They do respect our action. And in the end, our actions may be the only thing that counts.

Sense of Purpose

I have a dear friend who has been around for almost forty years. She probably doesn’t remember that when we first met she had just gotten a divorce, was starting a new job and was pondering her next step in life. We both worked at KTCA, the local public television station in town. Over time, she got remarried, had a beautiful daughter and rose in the ranks of fund-raising at the station. When I left in 1993, she was the only person I kept in contact with afterwards.

While I focused on my video production business and real estate investments, she continued growing in her career at the station. We would have lunch every couple of months and talk ‘station talk,’ and events in our lives. She became my sounding board for all things political, female and personal growth. A part of every conversation always seemed to end with ‘what to do when we would eventually retire.’ Like I said, we had a lot of history together.

I retired first and morphed into writing on a full time basis. Elise retired several years later, moved to Arizona and began her own ‘new’ career in the beauty business. Elise has long felt that older women are given the short shift when it comes to beauty tips. As always, the industry has focused on a younger audience and filled its advertisements with rail thin waifs who don’t look like anyone we might meet on the street. Elise felt there was a vastly under-served market she would like to reach with her beauty tips.

She was right and she has been very well received by that demographic. I’m guessing their husbands, partners and significant others aren’t complaining either. It’s been fun to watch Elise grow in her new career.

http://emjahns.wixsite.com/mysite

Of course, there were plenty of stumbles along the way as she grew her new business. She started with part-time work with Clinic, gave classes in community education, made lots of contacts and kept trying to find her niche where her talents met the needs of her clients. She had to learn how to build her own web site, create YouTube videos and online classes. It was hard and difficult and always challenging. But she had a secret that kept her going. Distilled down to its essential elements, she had a ‘sense of purpose’ and a reason to keep plugging along.

I’ve seen that same ‘sense of purpose’ in other friends who have found a whole new life after a lifetime of ‘working.’ Charlotte was a fellow teacher at Sharon’s college, who upon retirement has expanded her talent on stage and screen.

She’s been heavily involved with the local Twin Cities Film Festival  www.twincitiesfilmfest.org for a long time and acted in both plays and movies for many years. She was one of the founding members of both the Rosemount Area Arts Council (RAAC) and the Second Act Players (SAP) and serves on both boards.

She was my lead actress in my first two plays ‘Riot at Sage Corner’ and ‘Club 210.’ This summer she not only acted in my third play at the Steeple Center ‘The Last Sentinel’ she was also my director. Now she’s advising me on another venture of writing my first musical.

As Charlotte told me a long time ago:  “I taught to pay the bills and acted to feed my soul.” I got it. She had that sense of purpose long before she acted in her first play, choreographed her first dance, and directed her first play.

The common denominator with these two women is their sense of purpose. It’s their reason for getting out of bed each morning and facing many hours of hard labor with no guarantee of remuneration other than the knowledge that they are doing exactly what they want to do with the rest of their lives.

I have a casual coffee acquaintance whose specialty is rebuilding old Jaguar sports cars and racing them at the local track. Another coastal acquaintance teaches writing classes, edits newsletters for several senior groups he’s involved with and used to sing barbershop harmony in his spare time.

A fellow writer of mine started the Anchorage Writers Guild, regularly does author signings at Barnes and Noble, and is program chair for the Palm Springs Writers Guild. Another retired teacher like Sharon gives investment advice and has written two books on investing in retirement. His focus has been on fellow teachers.

All of these folks and plenty more that I know have shaken off the shackles of retirement and rejected the old axiom that now is the time to slow down and take it easy. They’ve found a sense of purpose, a new reason for being and a rejection of the traditional model for retirement. I’m guessing they don’t give a rat’s derriere what others of their tribe think of their daily activities. They’re doing what they want to do, how they want to do it and having a great, sometimes tough time doing it. Their sense of purpose is the only motivator they need.

Do yourself a favor and check out my friend Elise’s website. It’s called Boomer and Beauty with a focus on the beauty of older women. It’s a niche market to be sure but one that has a lot of interested participants.  The link to her website is http://emjahns.wixsite.com/mysite

Secret Identity

It never really hit me before now. Something a lot of men (and women) struggle with in their retirement. I sort of stumbled, willy-nilly, into a new career, a new identity and a new passion. I sailed on from producing cable shows one day to becoming a fulltime writer the next. I became a novelist, a playwright and a screenwriter without any preordained or determined plan, scheme, schedule or goals. It just seemed to fall into place and here I am. Other men and women aren’t so lucky.

I was reminded of that simple fact while watching a new play at Script2Stage2Screen at the Unitarian Church where I stage-managed several plays last year. ‘The Red Plaid Shirt’ was a delightful comedy that addressed the challenges that retirement can bring some folks. In many cases, a man’s identity is just about all he has to hold on to in retirement. The play humorously brought it to the forefront.

I have crossed paths with many men (and some women) that have scaled the barriers of retirement and found contentment on the other side. Some have retired and never looked back. Others have found solace in new part-time work that continues to challenge and stimulate their minds.

Yet for all the folks who have transformed their lives, there continues to be just as many who are still stumbling through each day looking for something to do. The Coachella Valley seems to harbor more than its fair share of retired executives eager to find meaning in their existence.

There are hundreds, if not thousands of ex-CEOs, CFOs, and other heads of business and industry living Down Valley in their gated communities. Their perpetual game of golf lasted about six months and then the elixir of command and control slowly crept back into their consciousness. When the time for HOA elections come up at their condo complex or local government or school boards, they found themselves unable to stand on the sidelines and not get involved again.

It is who they were and the identity they want to hold on to. Entire retirement communities have sprung up to cater to these seniors in need of something to do. The Villages in Florida and Over 55 communities back in Minnesota have a plethora of daily activities, scheduled weekly outings, planned entertainment and enough time-consuming distractions to fill a calendar two or three times over. That is the idea; keep them busy and active.

The ones I worry about are the angry old men. They seem disappointed in how their lives turned out. They gather religiously at the local McDonalds or coffee shop in towns large and small. There they Monday morning quarterback, complain about the government, taxes, young people and a myriad of other topics they have little to no control over. They never listen to what the others are saying. Their only focus is to get their ‘two cents worth’ out. Some become obsessed with their own mortality. They question ‘if this is all there is?’

The ones I admire the most are those who have found something to do with their lives. It might be volunteering at a local food bank, more involvement with their church, expanding their role as grandparents, travel, more education or helping out in the community in any way they can. Self-identity can range from writer to artist to grandma/grandpa to reliable help. It’s the doing that counts more than the label associated with it.

This notion of self-identity and finding solace in retirement has been percolating in the recess of my mind for some time now. I’ve already created a computer file on the idea and am rapidly filling it up with notations, quotes, comments and random ideas. It’s entitled ‘Tangled Roots.’ I think I can feel a new play being born.

Peter Pan Syndrome

Recently a friend of mine had a reunion with a group of neighborhood women she hadn’t seen in over thirty years. Not surprisingly and following statistics, two of the women had been divorced and remarried while the first two remained married.

Each woman had been through the typical trials and tribulations so common with couples today. They had gotten married in a bright rainbow flush of love. They had children and assumed their lives would play out as so many others had. Then something changed along the way for two of the couples. Perhaps it was infidelity or a loss of faith in their partner. Two of the women ended up on the other side of the marriage equation. The other two held steady to their marriage, kids, a career and now retirement with the same spouse.

What struck me about my friend’s lengthy discourse with the two divorced women was an overwhelming consensus that if they had to do it again they would never have gotten remarried at that stage in their lives.

Their reasoning was very clear. When men get old, the women argued, they are not fun to be around anymore. Old men get set in their ways. They look old. They sound old. They talk like old men.

Herein lays the dilemma for many of us. When is casualness in retirement mistaken for slovenliness? When is enjoying a cup of coffee and the newspaper in the morning someone else’s waste of time? When is finally being able to relax doing what you want to do mistaken for a lack of ambition or direction?

There is a freedom of thought and expression on the west coast that extends far beyond the hedonistic pleasures of Palm Canyon Drive. It can be found in the artist communities of Idyllwild. It is prevalent among the hermits, musicians and malcontents of Joshua tree and on the coast with the seaside poets and painters of Laguna Beach.

This creative expression can be found in the visual renderings of imaginative minds, the music of dreamers, the mauling of vernacular vestiges in the name of art and the casual clothing found most everywhere. It’s casualness I’ve embraced in my old age.

When we vacation in Palm Springs I like to emulate the natives. Each morning I put on my swimming suit, flip-flops, and a t-shirt. On chilly mornings a fleece will suffice until it warms up.

I don’t always shave every day. It takes about two or three days for some semblance of a shadow to appear on my face. Most of it is gray so it’s practically invisible anyway. Until the back of my head resembles the great waves on the North Shore it’s not time for a haircut.

On more than one occasion it’s been suggested that perhaps early senility has set in or as someone close to me likes to say “I’m losing it.”

Am I the only male of our species that thinks shaving every day and wearing underwear are two grooming rituals that can be ignored every once in a while assuming the environment is as I’ve described it?  Or must I acquiesce to the proper rituals of male grooming that the other half thinks is so important no matter what the environment? In a nutshell, if I’m working at home in my office and not in public, do I have to shave and wear underwear just because we’ve been conditioned to believe it’s the proper thing to do?

Photo courtesy of Brett Kolles

Photo courtesy of Brett Kolles

I have a middle-age friend who loves to bring his male friends up to his mountain cabin a couple of times a year for a ‘guy’s weekend.’ They have water balloon fights, play soccer, fly kites off the mountainside, ride Mountain bikes recklessly through the woods, and in short, act like kids for the weekend. Is this stupid or just men being men?

Women would say one thing. Men would defensively say another.

Perhaps we’re talking about the idiosyncrasies of older men or just men in general. What is a man cave other than modern days refuse for men to hide from women and just be themselves (or as women would say, just being stupid)

Women seem to have a plethora of concerns for their husbands, partners or significant others as the aging process becomes more apparent. They worry about their men getting old and acting it. They fret about them not shaving every day. Not getting a haircut when it’s needed (their determination, not his) Not dressing appropriately in public or semi-public for that matter. They worry about their man’s personal hygiene.

For those more insightful women they worry about their man not having a lot of male friends. Not to mention a myriad of other complaints from a lack of interest in anything remotely akin to her interests to just plain old boredom.

A few of my blogs have dealt with or at least edged alongside the concept of growing old. Occasionally I like to ponder what it means to get old. At times I wonder if I’m deluding myself with my interest in popular music, new adventure travels, living abroad, athletic endeavors, getting more involved with my grandchildren and a myriad of other activities usually left for the younger set.

Is it the Peter Pan syndrome raising its young head again or something more ominous such as denial of the inevitable aging process? Are sore muscles and stiffness the inevitable results of a life well lived or simply a lack of exercise? Am I kidding myself when I say you’re never too old to grow young again? And don’t fade slowly into the dark; instead leap boldly into the brightness until it burns you up.

I’ve made no secret of the fact that this whole writing thing of mine is a culmination of many goals and desires first initiated during my lost years. It’s spawned a desire to reconnect with old friends, revisit and examine my past and to do so while focusing on my future and adjusting for the reality of my life as it is.

From Snow White and the Seven Seekers to Looking for Susan’s House, this vision quest has become an important part of my life and I’m not about to let it go.

This attitude or delusional meanderings of mine seem to have struck a cord with a lot of folks who read my blogs. So either my readers find something of interest here or they’re just curious what my problems are? Or maybe they simply like to look at the old pictures I post?

The fact is I don’t want to grow up if it means looking and ending up like a lot of the old men around me. So what if I don’t shave everyday? So what if I wear my swimming suit in the morning or continue to listen to classical music (meaning music of the 50s and 60s) while still opening myself up to newer forms of musical entertainment?

I would argue that as long as I’m staying involved and and using my mind every day for something other than mindless chatter at the coffee shop or listening to talk radio, it’s time well spent. For a lot of folks my age long range planning means “What’s for dinner?” I’d like to believe that I can see a little further out than that. I’m not falling apart but simply focusing on things of greater importance in this world in which I’ve chosen to live.

Despite the challenges of old age and calcified ambitions that sometimes have to be pried loose from the rigid assumptions of past generations, I intend to continue my quest to discover, examine and write about whatever it is that interests me.

They say the secret to a long and successful marriage is to let the man handle the big things and the woman handle the little things. Then make sure your marriage is all about the little things. This works for me.

As long as I can wear my Southern California attitude whether I go…with or without underwear.

The Ultimate Elixir

There was a book that came out in the mid-seventies called ‘Positive Addiction’ by William Glasser. That was an interesting title for a wonderful thought-provoking book about what has become the ultimate elixir for many people in retirement…their  newfound passion.

The idea of positive addiction came to Glasser as he was reading Roger Kahn’s ‘The Boys of Summer,” a book about baseball players. He described it as “I came to believe that most people can use positive addiction to help themselves grow stronger in their chosen field. In fact, positive addiction doesn’t require anyone else; it doesn’t even exist in the presence of others. In short, it’s the only truly self-help practice I know.”

We’re seldom surprised when we read about artists of every ilk that seem to be a post child for unbridled passion about their art whether it be painting, writing, acting  or any other creative endeavors. Artists are like that…a bit over-the-top when it comes to their focus in life.

                                                Palm Springs Writers Guild

 I’ve seen another side of that equation at the Palm Springs Writers Guild. Many guild members are well into their sixties and seventies. Yet despite their age and lineage, there seems to be a universal desire to better themselves through their writing. It might be a memoir they’ve finally decided to tackle after a lifetime of their children and grandchildren nagging them to ‘tell their story.’ It might be reader who after reading hundreds of romance novels feels she or he is now ready to tackle that storyline they’ve had percolating in the back of their head for decades. 

Last April we had a Writers Expo and forty-one (mostly first time) authors were at the Rancho Mirage Library to show off their works and hopefully sell some books too. Book topics ran the gauntlet from how-to to romance to mysteries to cook books to westerns.

 

Unfortunately, foot traffic was light and few of us sold many books. But despite the disappointing sales there was a camaraderie in the room and a feeling that we were all following our calling and our dreams. These writers were, to a person, passionate about our art and the stories they were trying to tell. 

Unlike so many retirees of that age, those folks were doing more than just going through the motions of life. They have collectively found their passion and a reason to get up each day and do something meaningful with their lives.

With the tidal wave of boomers now crashing against retirement shores, it’s interesting to see the plethrea of magazine articles and books and seminars telling us all how to stay active. The drug companies have a little pill for every ailment. Cruise ships promise travel bliss and comfort in even the roughest of seas. Retirement communities boast about not being like those other old folks homes. There is an answer and a solution to anything and everything that might hinder total comfort among seniors. Yet all of the answers and solutions only provide a temporary respite from pending finality. But a passion, any passion, transcends that temporary patch and provides meaningful and soul-satisfying answers to the question: ‘What do I do with the rest of my life?’

There was an article recently in the New York Times by Phyllis Korkki about wisdom among older people. It’s a fascinating article and one of the things I was able to distill from it was the fact that people with a goal in life or a ‘passion’ are much better equipped to face the inevitable consequences of old age. It seems to come with the territory.

So I guess I’ll continue to write and blog and explore my literary landscape for ideas I can morph into stories. It’s a fictional landscape I’m learning to traverse and no matter the outcome, the journey is certain to be one heck of a ride.

Dying a Rich Man

I want to die a rich man. Fortunately it’s not in accumulated assets. Retirement has been putting a real crimp on that quest. Collecting assets has never been a goal of mine. I respect those folks who have in a more stealth mode built up a nice nest. My son calls it the “Millionaire Next Door” syndrome. I guess he might be on to something there. But when the time comes to count up credits, accumulated wealth by itself can be real a distraction from the more important things in life.

Every Millionaire I’ve known was rich one moment and penniless with their last breath. The slate had been wiped clean and their assets counted for nothing in the greater scheme of things. At my age, death is slowly becoming a more common occurrence among friends, associates, casual acquaintances or names once remembered. It’s called The Circle of Life.

The greatest lesson I’ve learned from wealthy folks is simply that there has to be more to life than collecting assets to make the entire journey worthwhile. Despite those U-hauls I’ve seen in some funeral processions, you really can’t take it with you.

Unfortunately, for some folks net worth seems to be the ultimate goal. There’s just one problem with that supposition. The most valuable asset one can accumulate in life has nothing to do with any assets collected. Instead it’s a common equalizer that shares its influence on all of us.

The ultimate asset in life is knowing that you’ve been able to influence others in a positive way and made a difference when you could. A worthwhile life is one well lived. It makes for a more fitting epitaph and no amount of money can guarantee that ultimate headstone.

Whether as a brother, a husband, a father, a grandfather or simply as a friend, it’s being there when that made a difference in someone else’s life. Simply stated, it’s trying to live a ‘good’ life.

My own life has been one heck of a ride thus far but to be honest is still a work in progress. There are no end-of-life regrets and I doubt there will be when the time comes. In the end, I can truly say that I did what I wanted to do. I loved whom I loved and still harbor many fond memories there. I did my best as a husband and father and friend. I was lucky with my kids. They’ve become solid respectable citizens of the world. I expect nothing less of my grandchildren and they seem to be well on their way to meeting those expectations of them.

I’ve traveled a lot and lived abroad. I’ve had a ton of experiences and saved them in blogs once my memory bank grows foggy. I’ve made up stories and bottled them in print and bytes for my grandkids and anyone else to read.

With no foresight other than a desire to do something meaningful with my life, I worked hard, ran my own business, managed properties and made investments. Some panned out. Others didn’t.

The grandkids keep me young as if I need them as an excuse. Collecting friendships when I was growing up was a challenge for me but I’m a younger man now. Old friends, new friends, I’m not picky. Renewing friendships or garnering new ones is a coup. But realistically it’s still a work in progress.

My new passion is writing, having surpassed running, over the last couple of years. Living in those fictional worlds with my favorite characters has kept me moving into the twilight years. The heck with retirement. I don’t have the time or inclination for that distraction.

I’ve already succeed in the great game of life. But I still want more winnings with the time I have left…and gold, silver and paper don’t count.