RETIREMENT CHALLENGES

 Thanksgiving is finished, and we have run through what little bit of leftovers from the feast. Amy planned perfectly so that every meal doesn’t include something made with turkey. Lacey and her family are back in Nashville, and Dallas is back home just down the road. I love to see my children come home, but they and I do like returning to our daily lives.  

I need routine in my life, and right now things are in a state of flux. It’s been a year since I stopped substituting and retired from permanent and part-time jobs. After working a lifetime since the age of 14, I’m finding adjusting to a new type of life difficult. 

Teaching school and other jobs always gave me a time to rise each morning. I’d set my clock for 6:30 a.m. and know that each day began with the sounding of the alarm. Now, I get up whenever I choose. Sometimes that happens to be the same general time as I did when I was working. Usually, such an early time is the result of a doctor or dentist appointment or an early tee time at Knoxville Municipal Golf Course. 

 My waking on other days comes according to how late I stayed up the night before. Of late, I usually hit the sack about 1:00 a.m. If I sleep late, the entire day is ruined. I am out of rhythm with my normal routine. By the end of the day, I’m in a foul mood because I didn’t complete all the things I’d planned to tackle.  

When I retired, I spent time working part-time with papers. The first few hours of the day were spent hitting the spots where folks in the community gathered for breakfast. I’d return home with a pile of information for stories and sat down to write them to meet deadlines.  

Now, I have a topic or two for my weekly column, but sometimes I don’t like them and fret until one that is acceptable comes to mind. Too much time sitting at home leads to a lack of ideas because most of the things about which write come from interactions with others, either family or friends. 

I used to have a schedule for completing chores around the house. I knew what days I would trim shrubs, rake leaves, or mow winter grass. Thursdays were reserved for house cleaning, and weekends were dedicated to washing cars.  

These days none of that falls into place. I finished all the trimming a couple of weeks ago. Leaves are gathered and piled or mowed almost every day. I find myself sitting in front of the television and watching mind-numbing cable news programs.  

I’m thankful that the weather has been good so far. It doesn’t keep me inside and away from my daily jobs. My list of things to complete is empty. I find more regular chores to do and even try my hand at some new things. Unfortunately, that means Amy has to look at the new things I've tried to build or the new ways I’ve organized cabinets, dressers, and even the garage. No matter how often I run out of things to do or how late I stay up or get up, I am thankful for retirement. I might have no routine to guide me anymore, but I am free to make the day my own. Yes, retirement always beats a job.  

THE STRESS OF WAITING

 Remember this time of year when you were a child? How much more excited could you have been to know Santa was going to visit and leave presents? Another time to remember is that last day of school before summer vacation. The arms of the clock crawled around its face. We couldn’t wait and grew surly when things didn’t happen on our timetables, Impatience begins at birth when babies squall for the bottle and rarely ebbs as he ages.  

These days, we’re more impatient than ever before. Thousands of families order food from restaurants for their supper. Parents and frazzled with all the things that require their time, and the children are constantly hungry, especially before they attend a practice or rehearsal. If that food arrives just a minute late, folks are angry blast delivery workers at the front door. Schedules explode and stress levels rise.  

In years gone by, consumers placed orders with companies for items. Then they waited for the product to arrive via the mail or some delivery company. Frustrated customers might call the company to check on an order’s status. Still, we had a bit more patience and realized that, in most cases, our lives weren’t adversely affected by that delivery. 

Thanks to such companies as Amazon, delivery times are usually within a couple of days. When our merchandise fails to be sitting on our front porch on the second day, our tempers flare. We ordered those “things” with the promise that they would be delivered on a specific day. If they don’t, we’re ready to sue the entire world. Never mind that most of our online orders are things we want, not things we need.  

For some of us of an older generation, writing letters was something we enjoyed doing. Like birthday cards with notes and signatures, they were personalized and meant more to folks who received them. Having someone to write back thrilled children because they rarely, if ever, received any mail. 

In our busy world, few people take the time to write a letter. Sure, the prices of stamps have been inflated so much that mailing letters just isn’t worth it. Most folks communicate through emails. I admit that I do it. Doing so is much easier, the cost is nothing, and the message arrives immediately. We can carry on “in-real-time" conversations with folks across the country by texting from our phones. Yes, it’s convenient, but I still miss the personalized touch of a letter. 

The same is true with cell phones. They allow us to talk with people anytime and anywhere. For some reason, our phone calls have become overly important. In a time before these cursed things, we would listen to the message left on the recorder after we arrived home, and before that, we didn’t know anyone called until they did so again and told us.  

I haven’t figured out why all of us are in such a hurry. Life is a race when it should be a stroll. Our patience would improve if so many of these timesaving devices didn’t exist. I carry a phone in my pocket every time I leave the house. The only folks who call me are Amy, who might need me to run an errand while I’m out, my son Dallas, who just wants to chew the fat, and companies that are concerned that my car’s warranty has run out. I’d rather sit back and slow down for a while. Life is much more enjoyable that way.  

THANKFUL FOR UNUSUAL THINGS

 A week after this is published, we’ll be gluttonously full of turkey, dressing, and all the other Thanksgiving foods. Some, thankful that they managed not to fall asleep at the wheel, will have made the long trip home. Hosts will spend the week cleaning the mess that always comes with a holiday and a house filled with company. These things are holiday traditions. 

I’m thankful for all the usual things on the special day, and I also am grateful for some other not-so-often-mentioned things. First, I say a prayer of thanks for retirement. In this day and time, I wouldn’t last a year as a teacher. Not having to teach this curriculum that systems push is a reason to give thanks. Neither could I handle some of the attitudes of students and parents. I’m old school. In my years of teaching, I listened to what the bosses wanted, but then I closed the door of my classroom and gave students what they needed to survive in the world.  

Another wonderful thing about retirement is being able to stay up as late as I want. I’ve always been a night owl, but work hours always pushed me to bed early. Now I can watch television all night or read a book that’s captured my interest.  My television air shows all night, unlike my younger years when the tv set had 3 channels that all were off by midnight. 

I have unbounding appreciation for Thanksgiving Day because it gives us a rest from all the commotion that is swallowing the country right now. The news stations will take a break as second-string hosts present “cute” stories during their airtime. Politicians head home and spend little time arguing about every idea that either party brings to the table. We won’t be bombarded about trials, and hearings, and bills. Instead, we’ll watch parades, watch ball games, eat too much, and fall asleep in lounge chairs. 

I love my family and am blessed more than I deserve that they are in my life. At the same time, I am thankful for the friends in my life. There aren’t many; I’m not necessarily an easy person to like or with whom to share a friendship. I’m glad at least a few people can overlook my shortcomings enough to spend time with me. Some of these people are friends from high school; some are from work. I’d like to say some are from college, but I did little socializing during those years because I had studying to take care of to pass classes.  

Covid hit my daughter’s office last week, so right now, we don’t know if she and her family will be able to come to Knoxville. Folks, the virus still skulking around this country, and it kills more than 1,000 Americans each day. We have much for which to give thanks, but we must be aware that the monster still waits for the chance to attack those who haven’t taken steps. Make sure you’re vaccinated before gathering with friends and family.  

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you. Try to shake off any ill feelings that you harbor toward others. Remember that this country is still a fantastic place. In fact, it is the best place on the planet. You might bow your heads and give thanks for all we have and the diversity we experience in races, religions, and political views. You see, we are all Americans.  

GETTING ALONG

The “strange” year elections are over, and it appears that both sides found at least a bit of disappointment. Most of us suffer from election fatigue. We are ready to celebrate holidays that were missed last year as Covid-19 ravaged the country. Not being bombarded by political ads on the television will be a nice change.  

What disturbs me most of all is the fact that we don’t seem to be able to get long. More than at any time since the late ‘60’s, our country is divided into camps. Back then, the two main groups were those in support of the Vietnam war and the individuals who didn’t like it. In many ways, the conflict was between two generations. Supporters tended to be older, while protestors were mostly college aged students. Both sides passionately voiced their views. Clashes between them occurred often and blows were traded, along with yells of, “America, love it or leave it” and “The whole world is watching!” No parades were held for returning veterans; to this day, some patriotic folks suffer from the effects of having fought in that war. 

Today, the divide is much worse. Two political parties refuse to get along with each other. They delight in destroying programs of the opponent. Irony drips over the fact that these individuals are sent to represent their constituents but put the interests of party above people. No, neither side is innocent.  

Right-wing conspiracy theories make the news every day. Not above guilt, the other side shouts its woke philosophy that confounds us older citizens. Instead of simply talking about things, politicians shun anyone who doesn’t agree with them. An evenly divided U.S. Senate twiddles their thumbs as neither side can reach across the aisle to form a bipartisan government that works to better the life in this country.  

That division has come flooding down to the electorate—you and me. We don’t seem to find middle ground on anything. Too many folks turn backs on old friends because they are members of another party or have different ideas on the major issues. What used to be simple disagreements among friends have turned into violent confrontations.  

I miss the days when friends could debate, yes, even argue, about beliefs. Now, we just can’t abide any person, family member, or friend, who takes an opposing view.  it says volumes about our world when we are unable to exchange ideas. Not getting along causes people into today’s world to join forces with only like-minded folks. We eliminate anything or anyone outside our predetermined world, and in doing so, we fail to see the other side of the topic and good points that it holds.  

I, for one, and sick and tired of the hatred that spews from extremists in general. I am not woke, not prejudice, not racist, and not delusional. I’m a middle of the road moderate who sees good ideas on both side of national arguments. I have enough common sense to know that if we don’t stop the fighting and isolating that our country won’t survive. It’s time for us to give up our myopic views and return to the center where the majority of Americans live. Then perhaps some of the good ideas that we have will come to fruition. It all begins with getting along. Try it; you might just like it 

BASEBALL AT ITS BEST

 Tuesday brought me great joy. The Atlanta Braves won the World Series after a 26-year hiatus. The team missed the opportunity to put the Astros away on Sunday, but a surprising number of Atlanta fans were at Tuesday’s game to celebrate along with the Braves. They sang and swung their arms in tomahawk chops. In fact, at times they were much louder than the Astro fans. At some point, the ire of those home team fans spilled, and they tried to drown out Atlanta fans. When that didn’t work, they began to boo, and the fact that a fight didn’t break out was a surprise.  

My brother quizzed me about watching the Tuesday game. I told him that wouldn’t happen. I’d tuned in the previous one, the one where Duvall hit a grand slam in the first inning, and watched the Astros claw their way back into the game and win it. I declared that I was bad luck for teams that I like. Most of the time, when I watch them on television, they lose. He then told me not to watch and bring the Braves bad luck. Nothing interested me on other channels, so I tuned in at the fifth inning and watched the team from the Southeast beat the team from the Southwest. Sometimes, things work out. 

Many people condemn baseball by saying it’s boring. Too much time is spent watching pitchers pretend to be members of the grounds crew as they dig holes with their cleats, only to watch them then fill the holes back. However, nothing slows down the game as much as batters, They, too, dig with their clears. Then they have to blur the chalk line so they can as far away, or close, as possible. Probably the most time wasted comes when batters adjust the straps on their batting gloves after each and every pitch. I know it is more of a habit than a need, but those things make a great game too long to watch.  

I’ve long said that baseball requires more of athletes than any other sport. That doesn’t mean that other sports and their players are not special and gifted individuals. Just think of it for a minute. A man stands at home plate and watches a baseball traveling 90-plus miles per hour coming at him. He holds a slender wooden object and uses it to strike the speeding ball. If he does, an outfielder places his body in front of the ball and tries to grab it in his glove and throw it to first base. For the most part, the entire game is a battle of one man against a ball and another player, a true test of individual skill.  

Nothing brings out the little boy in a man more than baseball. Flashbacks come to men when they play the grown-up version of this game. Those days were when baseball was played on a rough patch of ground and bases are made from bricks, paper, or big rocks come to mind. The glory of the game was found in beating the other team that consisted of good friends. Baseball offers freedom from the problems of the normal workday. The biggest concern as a player stands at the plate is whether his has correctly read the signs from the coach. 

So, congratulations Atlanta Braves. I’ve pulled for you ever since the days of Greg Maddox, John Smoltz, and Tom Glavine. You’ve brought pride back to Atlanta and given us folks in the south something about which to brag. We will stand with you throughout the coming months and will sing your praises. Let’s hope that money doesn’t tempt our players to leave or the owners move them to other teams, especially ones that are in same division. Go Braves! 

HALF PRICE HAIRCUT

 Over the summer, I noticed that a new growth. Yep, as the months went by and the heat increased, I noticed that I’d grown a receding hairline. In fact, it seems that the line of hair retreated faster than ever before. The hair fields were yielding dwindling crops. For years the fact that I’d someday be a “chrome dome,” but in the last year that fate has speed up toward being my reality.  

I admit that sporting a bald head isn’t something about which I’m too excited. Gouges and scars cover my head, and no one is going to think my hairless pate is at all attractive. THe question is whether this new look will be like my dad, who was bald on top but had ring of hair or my mother’s uncles, whose hair decided to stop short of leaving their scalps naked. Instead, they had enough hair to comb back and which left them looking somewhat strange, sort of like a space alien. 

Another thing that bugs me about losing my locks is that the dermatologist has frozen spots on my scalp for years, and they’ve also taken a knife and dug out some suspicious looking places. My head has a dent on the right side from on such session. Will all those freezings have changed the complexion so that I look like some kind of spotted varmint?  

Maybe I should put a more positive spin on this balding. Mankind has profited from the contributions of bald men. During World War II, U.S. forces were led by Dwight Eisenhower. England outlasted the Nazi onslaught with the leadership of Winston Churchill. Ghandi led his nation in peaceful protest, and the man didn’t have a hair on his head.  

Many of the most well-known celebrities are as bald as a baby’s bottom. Some of them accept the fact that their hair has left them, while others have chosen to wear toupees instead. When Amy and I watch television, she can quickly spot those wigs, and she has shattered my admiration for so many stars. Sean Connery finally just gave up and let his bald head shine. Bruce Willis must have grown weary of those toupees and decided to appear “a natural.” Bravo for him.  

As of yet, no product reverses baldness. Oh, some products claim to do so, but from what I understand, the stuff works until customers stop using them. Those who are richer choose to have hair transplants. I don’t have that kind of cash; besides, I never have liked hair that grows in rows like silage corn.  

Amy has told me not to worry about being bald; she says she’ll love with or without hair. She has cautioned me, however, that I better not shave my head. That’s not something she’s fond of. I can’t imagine having so much hairless area for me to stare at in the mirror. There are no combovers in my future either. I went to college with a guy that had one, and every time a gust of wind came, those skinny locks that were so long stood straight in the breezes.  

I can’t fight heredity or inevitability. The hair is thinning and disappearing. When most of it is gone, I will have the barber cut the sides short and the top slick. When haircut is finished, I’ll don a baseball cap and walk into the world timidly for a while. I wonder if I can get haircuts for half price when there’s nothing on top to cut. I wonder if I can get haircuts for half price when there’s nothing on top to cut.