Retirement-a dirty word?

By Paul Terhorst

The other day my 82-year-old friend, Martha, astonished me with the comment: "I hate being retired." She told me that if she could, she would go back to work immediately. 
Martha and her husband of 60 years live well and have plenty of money. They take vacations every couple of months and spend weekends in their country house. Still, she never recovered from being forced into retirement at age 62. Rather than delight in new opportunities of self-discovery, she's clung to an attitude that keeps her miserable. "They retired me at 62." I hated being retired by the system, and I hate it now." She lifted up the knitting she was working on while we talked. "You think this is where it's at, Paul?" she said. "I don't think so." Before she retired, Martha was a school administrator. Her job was to run around the state checking out private schools, making sure they lived up to government standards. A little power, a little travel, a sense of purpose. What could be better?
 
Recently I met Henry, a lively old guy, in good shape indeed for a 92-year-old. Someone at the table mentioned I was retired. Henry jumped on me. "You should never retire," he told me. "I'm the head of two foundations and have two paying jobs. I'm busier than ever. Retirement is death." It turned out that Henry runs the lobbying arm of the packaging industry that used to employ him. He meets with important people, and important people call him on the phone. Again, what could be better?
 
In the end, Henry looked around to the others at the table and said, grudgingly, "Paul's the only smart one here." But you could tell he didn't believe a word it. He not only wanted to keep working himself, he wanted to cajole me into working, too.  
 
In the same month that I'd talked with Martha and Henry, I read an article in the Wall Street Journal titled "Five Questions Before You Retire," by Jonathan Clements. Clements' fifth question was, "What will you do?" He suggested going back to college, volunteer work, or working part-time, and ends with what he refers to as his litmus test: "When people ask what you do, your answer shouldn't be, 'I'm retired.'"
 
When did retirement become a dirty word? Martha hates being retired. Henry prides himself that he will die with his boots on. And Clements, the Wall Street Journal writer, advises that we should never admit we're retired. 
 
Work gives life meaning and makes one feel useful. Work gives us a sense of purpose and accomplishment. Work proves we are worthy because we have a salary. Work offers a structured schedule. Work keeps us so busy that we can forget to ask ourselves what we want out of life. 
 
Then there are those of us who DO ask ourselves what we want out of life. We happy retirees want to find our own meaning in life, and then, if we choose, we may even create a new career for ourselves. We want to make our own way in the world. We want to set our own schedule. We want to do new things and meet new people. In short, we want to enjoy every minute we have left, without others telling us what to do.
 
But we still have to converse with friends and family who dread the very word retirement. How do we deal with these people and with the constant pressure to work, to "accomplish" something?
 
One solution: Be patient and clear. I retired at age 35, some 23 years ago. And from day one, when asked what I do, I state simply, "I'm retired." Often people go on to ask, "What do you do all day?" I typically list four or five activities. "I travel, play the saxophone, read, go out with friends, write an article now and again." But I always wind it up as simply as I can. "I do very little, I have a relaxing life. I'm retired and I really don't do anything." Now I've got their attention. We can go on from there to talk about my volunteer work (in my case, very little), travel (in my case, a great deal), or investments or social life or bird watching or whatever. But I've made it plain that I'm "retired retired," without pretense, without referring to some overarching activity that gives my life a meaning they can understand. Once people get over the shock, they tend to think more seriously about life without work. 
 
Another solution: Move overseas. I've met people all over the world who get embarrassed by the word "retirement." Neither Martha nor Henry is American.  But Americans seem to hate retiring more than anyone. Most American retirees I meet clutch at their volunteer work or fundraising to hide their discomfort with retirement. Moving overseas gets you out of the antiretirement ambience. Even if you do run into Martha or Henry overseas they'll be less pushy, more forgiving. After all, you're a foreigner, weird to begin with.
 
Some nationalities, like the French for example, positively enjoy retirement. The French tend to talk about retirement the way Buddhists talk about nirvana. Their eyes glaze over, they consider retirement the best life has to offer. They see it as a time for reflection, insight, relaxation, and pleasure. They see it as a time to enjoy the best food and wine and the best hour or two over a cup of coffee. A time to enjoy the best special moments with friends in a special time of their lives.
 
Sounds good to me. IL