The Idleness of Retirement

Among the accusations that many soon-to-be retirees hear is the tired old question “What are you going to do to keep busy?” While those making such an inquiry might mean well, the implication of the question is that they believe the old codger about to get his gold watch has little to no life or interests outside of the profession he intends to leave. I was the object of more than a few such inquiries about six years ago when I was anxiously counting down the remaining days of my employment as an archivist for Montana State University. “Nothing,” was my reply to all, “I intend to do nothing,” and I was quickly warned by my interlocutors that such an empty post-retirement existence would drive me insane. I can now confirm from my own vantage point that the dire predictions of my colleagues were grossly exaggerated, but you will have to judge for yourself (if you continue to read this essay) whether or not these are the ravings of a madman. What I have discovered since I left the working world behind is that some things have not changed, and others have changed for the better. I will begin with the former.

I used to walk to work and back every day, a pleasant twenty minute stroll through Bozeman’s historic district lined with beautiful mature trees. I always appreciated this alone

time because it allowed me to examine, in my reverie, any number of things from the books I was reading to the tasks that awaited me at work. Often I was so consumed in my own thoughts that I would arrive at the library front door with no clear memory of what had transpired since I left my house. This situation has not changed for me since I put down the working tools of academia. Starting first in Bisbee, where we moved shortly after retiring, and now in Tucson, I walk anywhere from four to seven miles every morning at dawn. My favorite local path takes me deep into Sabino Canyon, a rocky creek bottom in the center of the Santa Catalina mountains and I usually share the stroll now with friends.

Researching people and events was part of my job responsibilities when processing collections of personal papers and over the years I developed a real skill for ferreting out information on the most obscure characters. This was often the most enjoyable part of my working day, and I continue to practice it now. If not the genealogy of my own family, I often spend hours looking up information on a variety of topics that have caught my interest, including the history of our home, neighborhood, and of course all of Southern Arizona.

Finally, writing and reading were both features of my life in academia, and I managed to add dozens of articles and essays to the tally I was forced to maintain to earn tenure and promotion. Although that sword of Damocles has now been removed from over my head, I still get a great deal of satisfaction from both. Readers of this blog might justifiably question the volume of my literary output after months of silence, but my scribblings these days are mostly handwritten letters and rough drafts of works I intend to publish elsewhere. One of my long term projects is writing a book-length discussion on just how harmful the western myth has been for American Culture, a book which I am sure will require my own financing if it ever appears in print. Reading, too, is something that has declined but not due to any lack of pleasure on my part while so engaged. The simple truth is that my eyes tire easily after about an hour with a book and it takes me longer to finish volumes than I used to. I have rediscovered a fondness for English fiction of the Victorian period, a type of literature that requires time to absorb. I have plenty of time now.

What has changed for the worse for me since retirement? I can honestly say “angst.” If I am not fretting over my own health I am anxious for Jayne’s, and every new ache or pain triggers my concern for us both.

The national political situation is also a crushing worry, with a madman running for president and a myriad of his deluded followers seemingly ready to confront anyone with a bumper sticker that might criticize their Orange God King. None of the aforementioned apprehensions are linked to retirement, however, since I would have had the same headaches had I remained in harness, but now I am free to notice them more without distractions.

Overall I feel I must reassure those kind people who had so much concern for my mental health declining as the years of idleness stack up. Retirement is a blessing to me, and I am so grateful I have had the opportunity to enjoy these years doing whatever we feel like doing, whenever we feel like doing it. Perhaps the single most attractive thing about not working is the feeling I get every Sunday evening, a time when previously I suffered a vague uneasiness about the week to come. Now when the sun sets on the Sabbath, I smile with the realization that tomorrow will be most likely exactly like today, and that is completely fine with me.