Friday, November 3, 2017

All We Are Is Vanity

I’ve chosen to stop working at my full-time job at the end of June. That may be a surprise to the people in whose employ I currently am, as, based on recent output, they may have assumed I had stopped working years ago.

In this case, I’m talking about retirement, something I’m told fewer and fewer of us are able to do with any degree of success here in the 21st Century.  I’ve had a lot of help in trying to be able to do this, but confess to a certain amount of anxiety about the next chapter. 

I’m getting to an age where starting anew is more daunting than it was ten years ago or perhaps, I’m just more conscious of what’s left and what I have to lose than I was when I was younger. I’ve had a few folks, learning of my intention ask me what I’ll be doing next.  I have no idea. And try as I might, I’ve not yet been successful in even beginning to think about it. 

The whole defining yourself by what you do has, like so many of us, been my whole life. I’ve been a son, a brother, a husband, and a father, and that’s just within my own family. Those are some of the jobs I’ve had, like you, in a world that slaps us with labels. 

I’m better at some of that than at others, though the use of 'better' would probably raise eyebrows with my brothers and sisters, my children, and my spouse. Perhaps I should have written I think I'm better. Happy now? 

And that's part of it, of course, perspective. I'm sixty-five and should be aware of it from staring back into the face that greets me every morning in the mirror but I'm not sure. It's like that old joke about people admonishing me to act my age (which happens a lot more than any of us would like). I tend to argue that I've never been this old before so I don't know how to act. 

When I received my Medicare card in the mail shortly after my last birthday I flashed back to a phone conversation I had with my grandparents (Mom's mom and dad) when I turned thirteen years old. Getting calls on your birthday was part of the celebrations in our house and I don't think any of us noticed or cared the calls were always only from one set of grandparents. 

At that age, I didn't know anyone the age I currently am. or didn't realize that I did. I knew elderly people, but I never thought of my grandparents that way, though in hindsight they were. Same here. My driver's license doesn't lie, though for what it cost it would be nice if it did, at least once in a while.

I've been in the same office space for over a quarter of a century which reads like a much longer time when I type it out than living through it which I've been doing. As I look around the room there's a huge amount of residue that I will be forced to just chuck. 

When I type residue, I mean the remnants and bits and pieces of projects and campaigns that, for one reason and the other, I saved 'for later.' And now later is approaching, gaining speed as the days dwindle down. Would need a lot of boxes to take this stuff home although the memories attached to it can travel for free. God loves a madman but I wore His patience through.
-bill kenny   
  

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