There are several ways to approach each retirement day.  Some might choose to fill their schedules with classes, volunteer work, and meetings to provide a sense of daily satisfaction.  These are often the same people that go reluctantly or begrudgingly into retirement, needing interaction, companionship, accomplishment, and positive feedback to maintain the fast pace of their former careers.  I found that I needed withdrawal, alone time, and moderate interaction to be content,  Writing is often my only conversation, with the expectation of little response.  It’s like I don’t exist until I push the “Publish” button, making my thoughts, feelings, and actions public knowledge.  If I don’t pick up the phone, send an e-mail, or engage in Social Media, as is many times the case, I’m comfortably alone to do what I want.  A few neighbors might see me running early in the morning, or walking the dogs throughout the day, but there is limited engagement – maybe a hello or a smile.  I’ve usually got my earbuds in, listening to the radio, and can easily maintain the isolation that I often crave.

Until my wife gets home from work each night, I’m a homebody, lost in a story that I want to write about, watching a documentary or movie, or enjoying a game or book.  I rarely get bored, at least so far in retirement.  I’m sure that will evolve through the years, because I’m not necessarily an introvert.  I enjoy being around people and love to travel, but I also like “my time.”  When I think of all those years of work, family, school, volunteer, and sports obligations, I’m not sure I’d have the energy to do it all again.  I look at young people, and feel little envy about what challenges they have ahead in life.  Been there.  Done that.  I  need to rest a bit, because just thinking about it tires me out!

I’ve been in a reflective mood after spending time recently with my cousin.  It made me think of Thanksgiving dinners together as a family, and weekends at the lake.  My grandparents and his parents had neighboring trailers, so we’d often get together.  He was exactly nine years younger since we shared a birth day, so he’d often want to tag along with his older siblings and cousins.  There were the adult activities that we would be forced to do like leaf raking in the fall, pie making marathons, and canning vegetables,   We would mount butterflies, insects, moths, and leaves for my science classes, and would dig for night-crawlers or catch lightening bugs.  It was one of those rare times of my life that I spent a lot of hours outdoors.  What I wish I didn’t remember is that the first couple of trailers that both families owned, before the more modern-day mobile homes, did not have indoor toilets.  You really had to conserve on ingesting liquids before bedtime, since it was a long, dark walk to “The Castle.”  The dirt path was occupied by creepy. crawly, things and the  night air was filled with spooky animal noises.  When your flashlight finally led you to “The Castle.” there were two doors cleverly marked “Kings” and “Queens.”  It was probably one of my first lessons in gender distinction, and “things that go bump in the night.”  The concrete structure was always cold and damp, filled with spiders magnified in the shadows of the single light bulb overhead.  It’s one of those childhood memories that sends a chill up my spine.  My cousin and I laughed as we talked about being “Outhouse Kings.”  It gave new meaning to the words, “Royal Flush.”

I would have probably elected to stop by the nearest tree, if it weren’t for the adult supervision that accompanied each trip to “The Castle.”  Some treks were awkwardly in the middle of the night, but the woods were apparently too dangerous for young boys.  If you weren’t eaten by a bear, there was also a chance that you might slip down the hole.  I still have that fear when I step into a modern day “Honey Bucket.”  These seem to get a lot of use in Oregon, where outdoor activities are prevalent.  I got my share of bucket duty during the Hood to Coast Relay and the Farm & Vine dinner, to cite a couple of recent examples.   By rule, if there’s a Honey Bucket, it’s probably not my kind of event.  I prefer air-conditioned, plumbed, clean restrooms, so campgrounds, festivals, and parks are not my favorite places to frequent.

Speaking of the great outdoors, I’m also glad I was able to avoid the jungles of Vietnam.  The Ken Burns Vietnam War series continues to remind me of my good fortune as a young man.  I’ve reached the episode taking place in 1969, the year I graduated from high school.  I turned 16 during the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago.  I was still apparently too young to be engaged with the politics around me.  In my eyes, that seemed to be shut at the time, the Vietnam War was still a distant nuisance, while even the close by riots in Chicago were not even top-of-mind.  Hubert Humphrey emerged as the Democratic candidate, and Richard Nixon chose that Windy City battleground as the place to start his campaign.  With fading hopes for election, Humphrey got the support of L.B.J. in getting the Communists to talk peace, but that effort suspiciously stalled a few days before the election.  As Burns points out, this was the first indication of “Tricky Dicky,” as he somehow convinced Communist leaders to trust him over Humphrey by delaying the talks until he was elected.  It all sounds familiar, considering our recent elections.

I guess I should have been familiar with Nixon, having served as Eisenhower’s Vice-President, and after losing the debates, in a sweaty confrontation with Kennedy.  I just was not attuned to politics as a teenager, and continue to be somewhat distantly removed.  I might have even have coveted owning a Spiro T. Agnew watch!  Westmoreland, who was always asking for MORE, had been replaced with General Creighton Abrahms in command of the troops, but I was still not “Draft Age,” and sadly paid little attention to the ongoing war.  Terms like “Hippys, Long-hairs, Police State, and Demonstrations” were still foreign to me, and the war was not at all discussed in my family.  Nixon took office on January 20 1969, and I still had until August 27th before I turned 18.  There was no doubt I was going to college instead of Vietnam.