In my book Poetry at Work, I conclude with a chapter on the poetry of retirement. At the time I wrote it, I didn’t have a set date for retiring, although the idea was taking on more importance. Early last summer, I informed my managers that I would be retiring in the spring. My official last day in the office was May 1.
Three weeks later, I’ve found myself with something of a surprise. I thought I would miss the daily routine, the crisis du jour, the adrenalin rush of being always on call, the constant checking of the cell phone buzzing with emails, texts and phone calls.
The surprise is that I haven’t missed it at all. It’s as if I walked out thinking I was part of an epic poem and instead found myself with a haiku, a short glance backwards and then it was done.
What I’ve learned, however, is that the poetry of retirement is all about deciding what one wants to be when they grow up.
I never thought of retirement as the end. When you work in corporate America, and have the choice to retire (an increasingly rare option these days), you decide to do what your former colleagues expect you to do – take it easy, travel, putter in the garden, do a little volunteer work, and play golf.
Travel would be nice, but travel is also expensive. Taking it easy is an option, but I would likely drive myself and my wife crazy, and not necessarily in that order. I like garden work, but having a back with a tendency to throw itself out whenever it wants to limits just how much garden work I can actually do. Volunteer work is an option, and I would like to do some of that with our local art museum.
Golf, however, is out. I don’t play golf. I have played golf once in my life – a nine-hole, par 3 course for no-golfers. I had the best shot of the day. On the second hole, I managed to hit the ball in the wrong direction. It went over a hill, hit a concrete culvert, and bounced back toward the second hole, finally coming to rest three feet from the cup. I decided to end my golfing career at the top of my game.
No, this won’t be a stereotyped or typical retirement. I’m beginning to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.
One poem has come to an end. I’m beginning to write another one, one where I have the (relative) freedom to experiment with structure, form, and language. I can try words I haven’t used before. I don’t have attorneys telling me I can’t say something in that particular way. I don’t have to be constantly on guard, watching for incoming scuds at the same time I’m watching my back.
This time the poem can be playful, written from the heart of a child who’s learning the world in a new way.
I’m going to like this poem.
Photo by atomicpuppy68, Creative Commons, via Flickr. Post by Glynn Young, author of the novels Dancing Priest and A Light Shining, and Poetry at Work.
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Kelly Chripczuk says
This is great, Glynn. Thank you for sharing this lovely vision. Now, what kind of poem will I write with my life today?
Glynn says
Kelly, I really like that — perhaps we should start each day with “what kind of poem will I write with my life today?”
Sandra Heska King says
I can’t wait to see what you see with your new lenses.
Glynn says
I better clean my glasses first. 🙂
Thanks, Sandra, for reading and commenting.
Mary Sayler says
I’m liking this poem too, Glynn, and I’m sure other members of our Christian Poets & Writers group on Facebook will too. I’ll highlight your post – http://www.christianpoetsandwriters.com – but mainly wanted to say congratulations on your retiring from the work force and beginning your new full time job as a poet! May the poetry and you be blessed!
Glynn says
Mary, thank you for sharing the link. I have this strange feeling that my career of “full-time poet” is going to take more work than my old career.
Maureen Doallas says
How wonderful to begin retirement as if it were a poem. It’s that beginning part that’s so full of promise.
Glynn says
Maureen, thank you for the comment!
Martha Orlando says
Let the new poem begin! 🙂
Blessings, Glynn!
Glynn says
Martha, thank you!
L. L. Barkat says
Your comment about in which order the craze would begin made me laugh (I do love your witty side).
And? How I would love to see you volunteer at that local art museum. I can see it becoming something you also write about and write with.
Welcome to a new stanza 🙂
Glynn says
I almost signed up for an unpaid internship at the art museum — me and 11 college students. Then I thought about feeling my way into it instead of jumping in. There;’s an argument for both sides, but I decided to find out more before I leaped.
Lynn Morrissey says
Hi Glynn,
Was fascinated to read this, poetry metaphor and all. It sounds as if you will be spinning some free verse. Actually, I read this with interest because Michael is retiring this year. I think you know him via the diaconate. Already I am conjuring poetry we can pen together (kind of like antiphonal verse), where we write and speak together in the future. However, I’m afraid that that is my dream, not his (at least he doesn’t know it yet! 🙂 ) I read Laura’s comments with interest, because I know you have a great love for art, and St. Louis has a fine museum with lots of volunteer opportunities. Likely, you are aware of AM employees/volunteers at our church; so if you were really interested, I’m sure that they would give you information. But how lovely that you can just kick off your shoes, stand on some holy ground, and let God direct your creative path. It sounds as if the party has only just begun–an advancement! My father-in-law always said that he would never retire, because he was simply not a retiring person. I suspect that you could say the same for yourself!
All the best and congratulations!
Lynn
Glynn says
Lynn, thanks for the comment. And I do know Michael from the diaconate. I think your father’in-law’s point is valid — and retirement is a cultural concept, not a biblical one.
Megan Willome says
Happy poeming!
Glynn says
Thanks, Megan!
Richard Maxson says
Play your heart out, Glynn. Congratulations!
What wonderful words to describe retiring.
Glynn says
Richard, thank you! And I do intend to play!
Patricia @ Pollywog Creek says
Congratulations, Glynn. I love your perspective and look forward to how you will share your new poem as your retirement unfolds and you figure out what you want to be when you grow up.
Yesterday afternoon I helped my husband write his letter of intent to retire beginning July 23rd. He turned it in today. It looked to me like he was standing taller and his step a little lighter when he came home.
Glynn says
Patricia – I left four weeks ago now. I’ve surprised myself — I haven’t looked at the corporate social media accounts — what my team managed — once. I’ve heard from a couple of friends at work, but I don’t miss it at all. Thanks for reading the post!
Glynn says
I gave my managers 10 months notice. There’s something to be said for making it shorter. Thanks for the comment, Patricia!
Richard Maxson says
I just informed my boss, whom I dearly love, that come January 1, 2016 I will be leaving her group and going back part-time as a technical writer.
With four days off a week it will seem like an immense amount of time to write and pursue my second life. In two years I will fully retire.
Currently I steal moments during the day and hours nightly. I just purchased Jane Hirshfield’s “Come Thief,” which reads: ”
The mandarin silence of windows before their view,
like guards who nod to every visitor,
“Pass.”
“Come, thief,”
the path to the doorway agrees.
A Fire requires its own conflagration.
As birth does. As love does.
Saying to time to the end, “Dear one, enter.”
Glynn says
Richard, it’s always best when you can provide your own direction and structure for retirement, as opposed to being suddenly urged out of the door. And retirement takes a lot of planning and work!
Barbara Dillard says
This was such great timing and encouragement Glynn as I too am retiring soon and am groping the unknown that stretches before me. My blog has been silent as I wrestle with who I will be in this new season. It’s comforting to read your words and realize another is beginning this journey. Selfishly, I would love to hear more of what you discover- the hills, the valleys and the sweet spots you find in your writing. Onward and upward Glynn!
Glynn says
Barbara, it is a new chapter. Your story, or poem, doesn’t end when you walk out the door of the day job. In fact, I’m discovering it’s only beginning.
Violet Nesdoly says
Hi Glynn, really enjoyed this post when I found it via the Tweetspeak Newsletter that came through on the weekend. It reminded me of a retirement poem I wrote some years ago when I was in the spot you find yourself in now. I posted it on my blog this morning: “Beware Retirement.”
Diana Trautwein says
You’re gonna love it, Glynn. I surprised myself by not missing the things I thought I would. Don’t miss preaching, don’t miss meetings, don’t miss adult ed, don’t miss the responsibility. I do miss offering the sacraments and love when I’m asked to assist once in a while. This stanza of my life includes more freedom to write, fascinating experiences with direction clients, and a little more time with family here and there, too. Health complications have made adding volunteer hours difficult, but I hope to do more of that soon. And travel, too. It’s a good season and you will make the most of it, that much I know.