How will my second retirement be different? How will it unfold differently from my first retirement?
I like these questions and began writing my response to them--providing some self-reflection; however, after a few paragraphs of writing, I decided the reflection was honest but the writing was boring. Welp, scrap the writing and try again!
After ten years of retirement, I have just finished teaching 4th Grade full-time for Van Buren County School District at the elementary school in Douds, Iowa, a very small town (population 112 in 2022). My original goal to save a little money for emergencies by substitute teaching morphed into a year of full-time teaching because of a one-year teacher shortage for the elementary school. Long story short--I saved much more money and also helped out the district where I had taught for twenty-one years.
Will I teach again? I taught a wonderful group of students and enjoyed myself, even though teaching is hard work and there were times I was tired. On the whole, though, my back-to-full-time teaching was a fulfilling "encore" experience. Will I do it again? Probably not. I will probably substitute teach some, perhaps averaging 4-6 days per month. Rather than working five days a week and getting the weekend off, how about working 1-2 days per week and getting 5-6 off? That seems manageable to me.
What is my activity schedule like now? As in my earlier retirement, I'm enjoying the greater freedom of saying, "I'll get that job done today . . . or maybe tomorrow." That "or maybe tomorrow" takes a lot of pressure off the old body and mind. Last school year I did catch COVID but was "lucky" to be sick during winter vacation, so even though my "vacation" was coping with the illness, at least I had the opportunity to rest all I needed. During the school year winter months, though, I did catch a respiratory infection which lasted for a month--having no fever but having a long-term cough and lassitude. That was tough, having to get up early and work all day when I was low on energy. Luckily, after a month I recuperated and got my energy back. I will really enjoy the ability to choose whether I work or not, since I will have no contractual work obligations. I can roll over and go back to sleep if I want to.
Can I go outside and play? One thing my students and I had fun doing last year (or at least I did!) was studying the difference between "can" and "may" (possibility and permission). Therefore, I can say it is now possible to spend more time outside--and, no, I don't have to ask for permission! I've been outside quite a bit this last month since school has been out, mostly bicycle riding and gardening. I bought an e-bicycle three weeks ago and have already ridden 180 miles. I really appreciate how an e-bike extends my riding range. This year my garden is a bit diminished due to lack of time in the spring, but it is doing well. I've centralized my main vegetable plot to just one spot on the north of our property, so managing the garden is easier.
My gardening has been more businesslike this year; mostly I'm putting crops in so that I can eat the freshest food possible. Yes, I've enjoyed getting out in the garden, but the early planting was while I was still teaching so the work was of the in-and-out sort. Get it done on the weekend and before it rained Since the weather has turned hot, I've been gardening in the early morning (sometimes after an even earlier bike ride). This spring has had more rain, so that has eased some of the work.
Will I go camping this season? You might ask that question, especially seeing our Airstream Basecamp in the background of the above photo. The truth is, I'm enjoying just staying home and spending quality time with my wife and family. Also, we've been loaning out our camper to Sandy's son to allow him the experience of camping, something he's done very little of. I'll be writing some articles this season about his experiences--his camping learning curve, so to speak. Sandy and I may camp; we've even chatted about buying another travel trailer! A lot is up in the air right now, and that's okay. I've got some home maintenance to complete. Right now, I'm re-organizing the garage and am enjoying that handyman pursuit. It's always an adventure when my English teacher self tries being handy!
There's a saying about living a fulfilling life--do what you like and like what you do. That's my goal this second time around. I'm more knowledgeable, too, about the process. Sandy and I have been watching the Netflix series about Blue Zones and healthy retirement. I plan to eat well, manage my stress, avoid isolation and engage in meaningful activity, and to be active. Right now, I'm catching up on my medical check-ups, which is taking up time; however, my transition to retirement is going well. I plan to rest, play, read, write, and to continue trying to live an integrated life. Let me end with "Live long and prosper," for I plan to follow the Star Trek credo and to boldly retire where I have once gone before. It doesn't have to be a new space to be a happy space.
I graduated from high school in the 1970s and survived my 20s during that decade. It was a significant time, especially if we back the time up a little earlier to 1966 or 1968--political assassinations, the Vietnam War, the Civil Rights movement, the space program and a trip to the moon. Now, it's a half a century later and I'm celebrating another aspect of the 70s; I've now lived that long. February is that month where I become a septuagenarian, and just passing that mark leads me to some reflection. What I'm realizing is that many of my core beliefs have remained with me all my life and that now in my retirement I find them no less powerful and no less compelling. There is a certain timelessness in that--that what we are is not lessened by time. The times we may find distracting, but inside us there is a timelessness that remains.
I find myself increasingly compelled to listen. Yes, I still have things I want to say, ideas I want to share, but the necessity and need to listen has grown in my life. It was always there. I remember when I was eighteen years old on my high school's "senior skip day," a bunch of us guys got in our friend's old Packard and drove to Sacramento, California, (about an hour and a half drive) to visit one guy's parents and to watch the movie Woodstock. My friend was living with another friend's parents so that he could graduate his senior year with all of us. His parents had moved because of a job transfer that could not be postponed. Part of our excursion to Sacramento was a trip to a local park, which happened to be a gathering place for the homeless, many of them alcoholics. One Black man who called himself "Johnny Walker the shit talker" regaled us with stories, wowing our naive young selves with entertaining stories . . . and then he hit us up for our spare change, which we happily gave him. He asked for us to give, to us as a group and then individually without being pushy. When "Johnny" got to me, he said, "And how about you--you with the wise eyes?" Of course I contributed, but even then at eighteen years old, I realized what the man was saying. We had made eye contact several times during Johnny's story-telling, at a deeper level than that of audience and raconteur. There was the jive, and then there was the humanity. What I was doing was listening, with both my mind and my heart. I was including the old alcoholic in my world, considering him and the moment significant. We need to listen to one another, to include and absorb the perspectives of others into ours. I intuitively knew that when I was young and appreciate the importance of listening and inclusion more consciously now that I am older and have the benefit of my years of experiencing listening . . . and not listening . . . and the ramifications of each.
Researching a situation prior to engaging is increasingly important for me. Listening, of course, is an important aspect of research; in fact, it's primary research. In a world increasingly polarized, I want to bring balance to my decisions and actions. Research is an important way I learn, too. Therefore, by considering all sides of an issue, I can bring a more balanced approach to moving forward in my life, one that involves both intellect and emotions. Even after research and consideration if I find that my perspective hasn't changed, I might find a more positive and integrative way to act or speak. I'm thinking that this approach might seem "old person conservative," but to me it doesn't feel that way. There's a lot of creativity and discovery in considering many possibilities--and then there's the advantage of spending time in that field of all possibilities. Coming to a decision actually erects barriers and boundaries. Why rush to do that?
My family is a powerful defense against alienation and isolation. I am fortunate to be surrounded by my family--my wife, our blended family of three children (in their 30s), and our five grandchildren. I remember in my first years of public school teaching in the early 1980s that statistics determined that single parents or blended families had finally exceeded the number of nuclear families (mother, father, and genetic offspring). My mother was adopted, my son was adopted, and my entire life I've been taught and lived the truth that families are formed in many ways. "Family" is not a matter of blood but of spirit. My wife and I are fortunate to have our children and grandchildren living in the same town as us. However, I also realize that if this were not the case, we would create a family of friends and activities to keep us involved with people and engaged in vital activities. As Bob Dylan sang, "Those not busy being born are busy dying." My family provides me with an easy means of engagement with life--sometimes a bit too much, in fact! Then I pack up and go camping for a while. It's important, though, to live in the present and to not feel that our best years have already passed. I'm excited about my daily activities and my future hopes and plans. Having my family around provides many opportunities for participation in life. Extending family to its greatest scope, when "the world is my family," then how can there be alienation and isolation?
Freedom, variety, and creativity have increased in my life. Retirement has provided more time for me to choose my daily routine, to structure my time more around fulfillment rather than survival. I don't have a lot of needs. There isn't an outstanding list of things for me to buy and do--snowmobiles and trips to the geographic wonders of the world. It's not that I'm against owning a snowmobile or a new Ford F-150, or that I'm against visiting the Grand Canyon or Mayan ruins. The need isn't that great, though. I don't have a Santa's list of things I want or a bucket list of things I have to do before that bucket gets kicked. Possessions or accomplishments are not the ultimate summit of achievement. Fulfillment for me is an inner state, a state of being which cannot be located by gps or deed. Ralph Waldo Emerson observed that we cannot find a better world by traveling because we take our old perspectives along with us when we take off. I'm so grateful and fortunate to be practicing the Transcendental Meditation technique twice a day--and to have been doing so for forty-nine years. Being healthy and dynamic is a gift, but it is in many ways a gift that I have given myself by lowering my stress and developing my inner potential by practicing TM. I look forward to meeting the joys and challenges of each day, just as those in business enjoy the market, having first stopped by the bank.
We must be kind--both to ourselves and to others. When I was a full-time public school teacher, I once had a colleague tell me, "I was talking to a student the other day and the student mentioned you and the kind of teacher you are. He said, 'Mr. Kepler is a kind man.'" My response to my teacher-friend was, "What better legacy than that?" I once had a student--a 7th-grader--ask me about gay rights, whether being gay was right or wrong. I told her that many people had debated this question, and after listening to all the arguments for each side, I had finally realized that for me the "right/wrong" debate about others wasn't the most important point for me. What I realized was important for me was the following question: "Do I want to be the kind of person that makes other people suffer, that hurts the lives of others?" I told that young student that I chose not to make others suffer because of my beliefs, whatever they were. I felt this was a good answer for a public school teacher, where children come to school from families with many different perspectives and beliefs. Any parent with any belief would have a hard time condemning me for telling their children to be kind. It was also an American answer, too, because I was telling the student that we have a right to live our lives according to our principles, but others with different principles also have that right in the USA. Nurturing ourselves and others is not just a good idea, I think. It's an essential idea, a survival trait for our species. We are such an intelligent species, human beings, yet we have to temper our cleverness with wisdom. We have to look beyond our immediate desires and fit ourselves and our dreams and actions into the greater wisdom of the world.
What quality of life am I living? A current buzzword is "intentional" living, and although I'm not entirely comfortable with that word, since it seems to somehow and to somewhat disparage spontaneity, I do understand the basic idea that we should think about what we want and what's important to us in order to make choices that will be more fulfilling. Even Joseph Campbell's "follow your bliss" is in many ways advocating an intentional life--if I actually understand what people who are living intentional lives intend the word to signify. Some choices are not easy, perhaps because their impact on others creates complications, or perhaps because some choices require a level of self-scrutiny and honesty that cuts close to the bone--a kind of intentionality noir, as it were. I wonder, though, if the intentional life becomes easier in some ways as one grows older. Energy and activity slow a bit; lifestyle choices and routine expand a bit in retirement; and if one has any level of self-awareness, then experience will impact one's choice and priorities. Since wisdom is knowledge tempered by experience, perhaps an intentional life in one's elder years is simply learning to pause and wait for wisdom.
I think all the above are part and parcel of a meaningful life--being a part of our natural and social world, being true to ourselves yet still honoring and cherishing the differences in others, speaking out for what is true and right yet still allowing for differences in others. Integration of life, integration of opposites, holding the entire world within ourselves and not just one tiny part: this has been my lifetime goal, to live an integrated, balanced life of fulfillment. I feel I'm getting better at this as I go along, and I'm thinking that living the decade of my 70s will be just as exciting as when I lived my 20s. What about the fifty years in between those two decades? Fifty years is half a century, and yet somehow it feels like it's been no time at all. Let me reflect on that a bit--perhaps consciousness exists in time but is not of it? In the end, though, I tend to enjoy and pursue more simple, productive and nurturing activities. It's like Voltaire said at the end of his play Candide. As one translation put it regarding the frenzy of life--"That is very well and good, but let us tend our gardens."
This 2020 November General Election falls with the time of our COVID-19 pandemic, as did the primary election. During the primary, I requested a main-in ballot, filled it out, and returned it. The process wasn't entirely seamless, though, so I'm being more careful this time for the general election--and I'm writing down the steps and publishing this article to help anyone (especially locally) who many wonder what the process is.
For the primary election, the Iowa secretary of state sent out ballot requests to all registered Iowa voters in order to make voting by mail easier and, therefore, safer because of our current coronavirus crisis. Two situations arose from this action by the secretary of state: 1) I didn't receive my request, and 2) our Iowa state legislature got huffed and passed legislation to make the mail-in process more difficult to facilitate, especially for county auditors.
Iowa Secretary of State Paul Pate did send out mail-in request forms to Iowans, but my wife and I did not receive the forms. Via Facebook and a voting-savvy friend, my wife and I were able to download and print request forms, fill them out, and return them so that we could vote safely without crowding up the voting stations.
As the November election nears, concerns have also been voiced about possible delays in the U.S. Postal Service's mail pick-up and deliveries, prompting possible late delivery of mail-in ballots, which would cause those ballots to not be counted.
Therefore, it's best to secure your mail-in ballot early and to do everything you can to ensure that the ballot is delivered on time, whether by mail or by handing in your ballot to your local county auditor. Here are the procedures I'm currently following, and those I plan to utilize once I receive my ballot, in order to ensure that my vote counts.
I searched online and found the "State of Iowa Official Absentee Ballot Request Form," the mail-in ballot request form. My wife and I ran off the forms and filled them out, being sure we didn't transpose any numbers or create any situation where the forms might not be considered completed. If we didn't have a printer, we could have gone to the county courthouse and received a ballot request from the auditor's office.
I called the auditor's office and asked when the ballot request forms could be submitted, and the auditor is currently accepting request forms. I filled out the request form, donned my covid mask, grabbed my hand sanitizer, and delivered my request to the Jefferson County Courthouse auditor's office. The request form can be mailed to the following address: Auditor's Office, Jefferson County Courthouse, 51 W. Briggs Ave., Fairfield, IA 52556.
Our county auditor clerk said the last date the auditor can receive the ballot request form is October 24, by 5:00 PM.
General election main-in ballots must be postmarked by November 2 and received by November 9, 12:00 PM.
Mail-in ballots can be submitted by hand any time up through 9:00 PM on election day.
My wife and I plan to fill out the ballot soon after receiving it, and then I will mask up and deliver it in person to the county auditor's office. That way, the only mail interaction will be the delivery of the ballot. Here is an article about other options than mailing in your absentee ballot: Absentee Ballot Submission Options.
Yes, I'm retiring at the end of May from my position at Maharishi School as news writer and social media support.
I'm enjoying the countdown, and I'm making plans.
Some have asked, "What are you going to do?"
Well, I plan to continue engaging in life-supporting activities. I'll just have more time and choice as to what those life-supporting activities will be. To answer one question: no, I won't just be sitting around doing nothing. If I'm "doing nothing," it will be the productive "nothing" of meditation. Even in retirement, TM will still be a useful and effective preparation for activity.
Activities:
reading and writing
being supportive of my wife's new business
being a good parent and grandparent
gardening
bicycling and bike camping
I have a few other possibilities, but first I want to focus on self and family. I've enjoyed my job this year, but there are some things I want to do that are more difficult when I have to show up to work five days a week. Bicycling and gardening, for instance. When the weather is right, I want to be able to take off, even if it's a Tuesday or Wednesday. That will be an enjoyable freedom.
So . . . this week and next week. More time for this blog, too. Good thoughts to my co-workers, and happy trails ahead.
Copyright 2015 by Thomas L. Kepler, all rights reserved
"My doctor tells me that when you turn ninety, you might say or do anything, so watch out!"
That's what my mom says. She's kidding, of course. And maybe a little serious and a little nervous. Our family's experience with Dad's dementia/Alzheimer's was enough to have us tossing salt over our shoulder.
What I admire most about my mom is her quiet courage. Born in an era when it wasn't unusual for a woman to just follow her husband's orders, Mom quietly lived her independent life of traditional boundaries. She never drove a car because her eyesight was too poor. She didn't work once she started having babies. She was a stay-at-home mom, but that form only contained her independence. It did not quell it.
Today Mom is heading for a new year--as she put it, a "not so happy year." Dad is gone, but Mom still has her two boys. I'll be out to see her in a month. My brother is her live-in caregiver.
My new year's resolution is a paraphrase of a favorite expression of Mom's, to just keep moving, that when you sit down, that's when you get into trouble. I don't think of that as wearing yourself out with activity; rather, I think it means to remain vital and in accord with nature.
Sometimes when we follow our path, we have to shout the warning, "Clear the path! I'm coming through!" A variant is "Follow me or get out of the way!" My dad phrased this more bluntly: "Help or get the hell out of the way!"
When I hear my mother--five feet tall and ninety years old, blind and deaf--say such things, I hear the implacable power of nature grinding down mountains, that power that pounds seashores to sand and lifts into the air ten billion birds. I am lifted myself to keep moving, to keep to my path, to enjoy my life.
God bless you, Mom, and happy birthday.
Copyright 2014 by Thomas L. Kepler, all rights reserved
Sometimes the best way to express my feelings is to quote my father.
"I'm in pretty good shape, considering the shape I'm in."
"If you're going to do it, do it right."
"Always leave a campsite in better shape than it was when you arrived."
I'd start out with, "Well, like my daddy says . . . " or "My dad says it this way . . . "
Now that Dad has passed away, those moments when I remember how he phrased his thoughts have an extra dimension. I'm not only expressing an idea in a manner that reflects my past; I'm also celebrating and honoring that past. It's a good feeling, an expression of continuity and also of evolution.
I am not my father, nor was my father his, yet there is a connection. Depending on the clarity of our thinking and the purity of our lives, we have the option to take from our family heritage, to nurture the growth of our family tree, to prune, to feed and water, to bring light to our daily living.
Quoting my dad or my mom is a way of honoring that past from which I have come. It's a way of reminding myself of who my dad was and of who I am.
It's like my dad would say, "Where you are is just one step away from where you've been."
Copyright 2014 by Thomas L. Kepler, all rights reserved
Mom has lived in the same mobile home for thirty years. She know her home like the back of her hand . . . or maybe even better.
With macular degeneration, she is legally blind and can see only shapes before her and some detail from her peripheral vision. She is deaf in one ear and has 12% hearing in the other--boosted to perhaps 25% by her hearing aid. She uses her hands and memory a lot. My brother and I always make sure we put things back to exactly where they were if we use something.
I don't know what it would be like if Mom moved into a retirement home. She'd have to start all over in an unfamiliar environment. She'd be less independent. She'd have less to do. Mom cleans now, knows where the vacuum is. She wipes the table and counters, washes some dishes. She washes and dresses herself. She makes herself peanut butter and crackers or an ice cream cone. She's a pretty spunky, independent lady.
She says, "You've got to keep moving. If you sit down, you'll never get up."
I think being at home is what makes Mom more independent. My brother stays with her and does a great deal to help, but he always leaves Mom something to do. It's part of her daily routine. When I come to visit, I use more pots and pans than Mom and my brother do; they use the microwave a lot. I suspect that when I leave, Mom washes the pots and pans again to make sure they're clean--and that's okay.
We go shopping, and the flat floors of the supermarkets let her get some good exercise as long as she holds onto the cart or onto my arm. She needs vacuum bags and I bring her a pack of three. She sends me back for another pack. We go to the hair stylist, and Mom makes sure she gets the senior discount. She amazes my cousin, whom she hasn't seen in over twenty years, by remembering her birthday.
A great deal of Mom's active life is centered around her familiar environment. My dad passed away recently after a year in a nursing home. Part of Mom's routine was to visit regularly. She always came home, though, and always had her cleaning to do. Home is her safe haven.
"I do a lot by touch," she says, and that includes cubing the spuds we've cooked to make potato salad and cutting up the cantaloupe that we buy on our trip to the store. Sure, I have to eat around some green spots from the cantaloupe rind, but that's an insignificant price to pay for providing my mom a sense of place and purpose.
There's no place like home. It's where we belong, where we feel safe. As my dad used to say, it's where you can scratch where it itches. It's where Mom as much as possible continues to live the life she's always led--and that continuity is important.
Copyright 2014 by Thomas L. Kepler, all rights reserved
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