On Retirement (1)
I retired from full-time teaching at the end of spring semester 2022. I provided the commencement speech, “Three Myths and a Prayer,” for undergraduates on April 30. Officially, my retirement came at the end of May.
Several small changes came quickly: I boxed up books, emptied my office, transferred my retirement fund from TIAA to a private investment firm, signed up for social security, bought supplemental Medicare insurance, arranged for giving to GFU from my banking account rather than my monthly pay—and more.
The more challenging changes take time. What does a person do in retirement?
“Do” is a suggestive word here. In Greek, poiew means “to do, or to make.” It’s the root of “poetry”; a poet is a “maker.” But there are many kinds of doing and making: bakers, carpenters, architects, and sculptors make objects of some kind. Dentists, plumbers, accountants, and tour guides don’t produce objects, but their service is clearly a “doing.” Contemporary English speech reflects the broad application of poiew, when we ask, “What do you do?”
A person’s “doing” is not just her paid work. Sometimes, happily, a person’s career—such as my teaching career—coincides with her doing. We may speak of a “calling,” and we thank God when our calling, our paid work, and our doing overlap.
Retirement means the end of paid work. (In my case, it’s only partly true. I am scheduled to teach part-time in spring 2023. Even now, in summer 2022, I’ve been serving on a faculty task force—and been paid for it!) Retirement does not mean the end of “doing/making.” I’ve written more than forty devotions for Fruit of the Vine since April, and I’ve edited/rewritten Castles. I hope/plan to write fiction (the Aladdin story) and essays for this blog.
Retirement brings change, change I feel this week especially. Classes at Fox started Monday, but I am not in the classroom. I am not seeing students in my office. I am not organizing Senate meetings or department dinners. I am not writing reviews of faculty colleagues. I have not been appointed to any peer review committees. (Of course, I did none of these things in 2007 or 2014, when I had sabbaticals. But retirement feels much different than sabbatical.)
It's an existential shift. What will I do?
I’ll write. I’ll preach and teach (when invited). I’ll repair our porch.
Vacation: Sarah and I will drive to Colorado, seeing Tim & Tia and Curtiss and Jessica along the way. In Lamar and Hasty, we will meet cousins and visit the Smith farm. I plan to worship at Hasty Friends Church. After the family reunion, Sarah and I will meander our way home, stopping at several national parks. This vacation will be followed by others; Sarah wants to go to Hawaii next May. But I reject the silly notion of retirement as “permanent vacation,” which some advertisers promote.
What will I do? I will try to write a good story. I will respond to openings (a Quaker word) for ministry. Jesus has called me to discipleship; I will follow.
