Retirement 101

Picture this. The long, grey hair of the poet is gently ruffled by breezes moving up the river valley as he sits with his portable keyboard in the screen house. A chipmunk is raiding the bird feeders. Small birds complain as they swoop in for a quick snack. Down in the river a heron poses in its regal way.

Yes that’s the scene up here on the Deer River on this Thursday afternoon in August. The poet’s wife is inside the house reading. She’s resting, recovering from her morning of bossing the poet around. Clean the shed, she said. Replace the blade on the lawn mower, she ordered. Why didn’t you finish whacking those weeds along the driveway, she asks, in a wheedling way. Retirement. Only six days into it and she’s found the rhythm of boss-dom. But it’s okay. This poet can take a little structure, a little direction. After all his wife

has included time in the schedule for writing, reading and research. At least there’s time

if all the chores are finished.

I’ve been retired for a little over eight years. My wife would go to work and I’d do many of the housekeeping duties. I handled the laundry. I planned and prepared almost all the meals. Bed making, minor cleaning, grocery shopping – I did it all. And during those years I was able to write a bunch of poetry and other stuff. I also read several books a week and attended weekly and monthly writing group sessions. Now I’m not worried about the changes that may be coming with my wife’s retirement. I’m sure she’ll lose the urge to be somebody’s boss pretty soon. If not, she might find a certain poet is harder to tame than the average “work study” young adult. And she might find that same poet out in the screen house writing some seditious little blog entries.

For now, I’m just going to enjoy the sound of the river and the antics of the birds and chipmunks. So you all have a really fine day.