The Rigors and Joys of Retirement (Part One — The Rigors)

When I was much younger, I overheard an older man telling his companion: "If I had known how tough it was, I never would have done it." I lingered nearby, wondering what this middle-aged, gray-haired man was referring to. Through my mind flashed visions of the mountain he had climbed, marathon he had run, or even the young thing he had had a fling with.

I was flabbergasted to learn that he was talking about 'retirement.' My God, I thought, the guy is crazy, talking that way about not working, not getting up in the morning to fight traffic in order to battle for a buck in a dog-eat-dog world, then struggling again with the traffic going home.

Two years ago (well before my 65th birthday) I, too, retired — sort of. Only then did I comprehend what that man had been talking about.

From the time I was a boy of sixteen during the Great Depression, I had worked: after classes in high school and on two jobs during all 4 years of college. I felt that after 46 years in the arena I was entitled to a reward, a sort of release from prison after serving my time. I looked forward to a blissful existence upon retirement.

That was somewhat ingenuous of me.

While I had mentally primed myself to retire, I was not prepared for the emotional and psychological effects. From childhood I had been programmed to be a part of the work force and not the leisure class. With no training and little previous preparation for retirement, I had to find my own way. Like any exploration, it could be both exciting and frightening.

Retirement means a loss of identity. Like it or not, most men are characterized, designated and judged by their profession or work. In fact, many family names were the by-products of the work performed by their owners. For over 30 years a part of my identity was as a lawyer, and now that my professional status was gone. It would leave a void until an adequate replacement was found or my ego would adapt.

On retirement you also become somewhat of a pariah to your former professional associates who no longer feel as free to discourse on their current professional achievements or tribulations. Now that you have left the fold, your erstwhile brethren look upon you with a jaundiced eye, somewhat in the way married ladies do at their newly divorced women friends. In any event, your contact with them grows infrequent and it behooves you to make new 'retirement friends.'

It is extremely difficult for many people to deal with time when it is not structured for them by a regular work day regimen. It was interesting for me to discover that time is expandable. What used to be done on the run when I maintained a busy work schedule now takes half a day or more. Thus time is not a problem and does not hang heavy on my hands. In truth, I have less spare time now than ever.

Retirement takes away some of the little goodies of the working life. It means not having a vacation or the weekend to look forward to as a respite from work. For those whose favorite work day was Friday, it does represent an unfavorable change.

Retirement can turn out to be a period of entropy. It's so easy to sink into a state of lethargy once the props of a long-standing work schedule are gone. Replacing the old agenda with a new one — or none at all — can be painful. It can give rise to vague, inexplicable feelings of malaise.

I was depressed on occasion as I wended my way from a fairly active and organized professional life to a desultory seeking-out of new hobbies and interests. It was a daunting matter, of trial and error to spawn satisfactory substitutes for life-long work habits and priorities. When I hadn't the inclination or resources for developing any retirement pastimes to any comprehensive degree.

The nether side of retirement was underlined by the following comment of a prominent retiree:

'I thought I could prove I was different and walk away from it, but it's not that easy. I was getting bored. At times I was saying I was happy and satisfied, but I was just psyching myself. You can't fool yourself.'

That was said by Sugar Ray Leonard who had retired as unquestioned boxing champion 2 years earlier, with eye problems, after earning an estimated $40 million.

But take heart. Next month: "The Joys!"