how is it being retired?

"And so how is retirement?" they ask.

And I can see in the eyes of some that they have already answered the question -- that it is a fate worse than death, that one has lost one's true and real identity -- the job that one holds, and is cast off into a vast and desolate wasteland to wander thirstily in a scape inhabited by wearers of white socks and plaid coats desperately seeking jobs as Walmart greeters.

Actually, I retired long ago, while I was still "gainfully employed" as they say. 

In thinking on it, I retired in 1974, when a university offered me tenure. I took the offer as a sign that I HAD MADE IT, refused tenure, and leaped into active retirement in which I have

·      driven an 18-wheeler

·      raised and sold cucumbers to a pickle factory

·      organized, edited, and published a community magazine

·      stocked the shelves of a university bookstore

·      helped gather and publish in useful form statewide criminal justice data

·      performed weddings, christenings, and ministered

·      been a houseparent for 6 teen boys with middle fingers raised to the entire universe

·      developed and taught wellness courses for a medical school

·      taught martial arts

·      bagged potato eyes in a basement inhabited by 7 eye-cutting women and a blaring country-western radio

·      shot pistol and run through the night with members of a peace officer association

·      become acquainted with many strong and good-hearted Native American folk

·      taught wellness courses for Native American nations

·      been executive director for a two-county behavioral health center

·      been chief psychologist for a 4-county behavioral health system

·      been clinical director of a 4-community behavioral health system

·      been psychologist for a university employee assistance program

·      written a few books

·      done the Imogene Pass "grueling" annual trek three times

·      gotten married and divorced twice

·      fathered two magnificent children, both warriors and loving beings

·      hiked a large number of the trails of northern Arizona

·      read ten zillion books

·      and so on

So when I'm asked how is retirement, I usually reply, "I'm having the best time of my life!" and let it go at that. Sometimes I say, "Re-tired? I was never tired in the first place"

the art of geezer walking

Since I am a bonafide Geezer, having been dubbed this by an irate man some time ago, I feel that I am qualified to make some remarks on the art of Geezer walking.

You can be a Geezer regardless of your age. One requirement is that you not take yourself too seriously. So most anyone can do the Geezer walk.

Some guidelines (no rules; Geezers do not care for rules nor abide by them) are: 

·      Choose asphalt over concrete, dirt over asphalt. (It’s easier to let flowers bloom in your footsteps with dirt, though concrete may need it more.)

·      Choose neighborhood streets over traffic stream streets. With traffic stream streets, it is too easy to get irritated at the constant engine roar and tire-whir noise and/or fall into pity and depression for all those poor folk locked away in their mobile cubicles. Of course, if you are a Zen Marine, you will welcome this opportunity to practice deep meditation. 

·      Choose back alleys over neighborhood streets. Man! The sights you see! 

·      Take a new route, rather than an old route. The reasons are obvious. 

·      Always return a different way. Walk the unexpected, unpredictable. 

·      Take shortcuts, even though they are longer. 

·      Stay open to change. Pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters are everywhere. Pick them up, put them in your walking savings jar. 

·      Notice side paths (human game trails) and follow them. Most of them are short cuts. All lead to interesting places. 

·      Keep a soft-eyed open gaze. You see more; are perceived as less a threat or challenge; get in less trouble. 

·      Keep your head up and look around. No head bouncing. When your head bounces, your visual world bounces. Keep an even keel. 

·      No marching. Amble. Amble fast or amble slow, but amble. Since you are amble-atory, you are less likely to need an amble-ance. 

·      Stop, look, and listen. At any time. For as long as you care to. 

·      If you have a watch, leave it at home. You will get there when you get there. And you will never get there since you are always here. 

·      Carry a teeny notebook to record your teeny thoughts. That’s how this guideline you are reading was formed.

Well, that’s way too many guidelines.

Just go out there and walk around.