What's Next?

A few posts back I ventured into the topic of hobbies for us "men of a certain age" to take up once we retire. I received feedback from several of my peers: 

"Are you actually thinking of retiring?"
"I'll never retire."
"Who can afford to retire?"
"Retirement's for wimps."
"Don't retire--start a second career."

All of these thoughts run through my mind as I get closer to that magically arbitrary age. That last one though, the one about a "next" career, what would that look like? I started thinking of things I've seen old guys do, and how that might work out for me as a second career. Here are a few that come to mind:

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Wal-Mart® Greeter

Well, lets see, I don't like Wal-Mart® and I don't like greeting.

I'm a tested and confirmed introvert, and way too cynical and judgmental to stand and watch Wal-Mart® shoppers come and go all day.

Even if I did love greeting, the blue vest is a deal killer for me. I do like coffee though, and I have nothing against green aprons, so Starbucks® could work.

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Pundit

You know those old, former-whatevers that they line up four and five wide across the TV screen on the news channels, all talking at the same time, which is fine because no one cares what they're saying anyway.

This could work. I have a lot of opinions no one wants to hear; about stuff that doesn't really matter at the end of the day.

Am I qualified? I have held office. I was the Sergeant-At-Arms of our high school Spanish club. I work with this girl who's dad was in the CIA and protected a former president. I marched in Nixon's inaugural parade--not as a protester, but as a drummer in the band. (I did, however, wear a "Humphrey-Muskie" button under my uniform.)

“My friends tell me that I have a tendency to point out problems without offering solutions, but they never tell me what I should do about it.” ― Daniel Gilbert, "Stumbling on Happiness"

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Haberdasher

I really enjoy strolling through flea markets, estate sales, vintage shops, etc. Great stories are always told there. You know, the ones that start, "Remember when..." I love it when someone picks up an old catcher's mitt and talks about summer games on the vacant lot down the street, back before mosquitoes carried the West Nile virus, before the sun caused cancer and before perverts were everywhere, snatching up little kids.

So, I think I could really enjoy having a traveling shop of vintage stuff, like the haberdashers of old. If you're not familiar with the origin of the term, I found this on the WWW:

Its meaning down the centuries has been as diverse as its origin. When it appeared, in the thirteenth century, it meant a trader in a range of goods. According to early chroniclers, these included: “glasses, daggers, swerdes [swords]”, “mousetrappes, bird cages, shooing hornes, lanthornes, and Jews trumpes [Jew’s harps]”, and “bookes, pictures, beades, crucifixes” etc.

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Blogger

What would be really cool; if I could figure out a way to monetize this blog deal, like that Pioneer Woman has. Best I can tell, the secret to her success includes: sharing recipes, selling recipe books, and writing children's books about a dog-character named "Charlie The Ranch Dog."

Grumpy The Retired Dog.

Let's try it. If you'll send me $7.95 I'll send you the recipe for my award-winning chili AND my crowd-pleasing shrimp boil. But wait! There's more! I will put your name on the list to receive a First Edition of my children's book about "Grumpy The Retired Dog" who spends his days lounging, eating, scratching himself and silently passing gas that is bound to be destroying the ozone.

This book is not yet written but I'm thinking I'll call the first episode "New Tricks--It's not that I can't learn them, it's just that I have all the tricks I need already."

This Might Sting A Little

ONE OF THE COOL THINGS about the world-wide-web is the ability to google medical stuff and diagnose your own maladies. And I'm sure doctors love it when I go to the office and start the conversation with, "I Googled my symptoms and..."

Say what you will, I love being able to get a second opinion for free. Here's an example. A recent bit of online research yielded this bit of wisdom from a doctor I trust a great deal:

When at last we are sure
You've been properly pilled,
Then a few paper forms
Must be properly filled,
So that you and your heirs
May be properly billed.

--Dr. Seuss

This is highly relevant to my world the past few weeks, all leading up to tomorrow's big event.

First let me say this: Some kinds of bragging I celebrate, like Kevin Durant talking about his teammates, or parents and grandparents sharing pictures and the exploits of the kids. (Here's an excellent example)

The Grand-Girls. I'm not sure even the flowers are as lovely--but that's just me.

There are some kinds of bragging that further turn my messed up belly, like: people trying to impress you with how busy and significant they are by telling you how many emails they have in their inbox. Or, those who want to talk about how many surgical procedures they've endured, which inevitably includes a Show & Tell for each of their scars. Unfortunately, this kind of stuff is a staple for conversation of us mature adults.

That said--a couple of weeks ago after a few days of stomach uneasiness, my gall bladder attacked me. I went to the ER where this pretty little girl, that I'm guessing was 15 or so, squirted some kind of jelly all over my stomach and then rubbed a probe all over, like she was hunting for coins at the beach with a metal detector.

The doctor studied images from her procedure on the monitor. They looked something like a Rorschach test. "It's time for you and your gall bladder to part company," said the Doctor.

I wanted to argue; we've been through so much together. But this sucker had betrayed me, and I realized that if I said, "No thanks, Doc, I'll keep it," it would only be the drugs talking.

So tomorrow, one of those spare parts that only God knows why He put in the mix, like tonsils and appendixes, is coming out. 

Remind me next time we meet and I'll show you the scar. ;-)

The Idea Man

WE DO WHAT WE CAN.

I realize, and reluctantly admit, I can't do a lot things I used to do. Age has a way of sneaking in and stealing our capabilities. But here's something cool--age also brings us new stuff and opportunities, like: the benefits of experience, richer insights, depth of relationships, a pace that allows us to be more observant, to drink a little deeper from the cup of life.

I wanted to find something credible to back me up on this idea of us "mature" dudes having an essence that makes us vital in a very significant way. So I searched the ancient scriptures and found Joel 2:28, which basically says that while the young girls and guys get to prophesy and have visions, us old guys get to dream the dreams. What would the world be without the dreamers?"

You know that color that has always been known as "baby blue"? The color for little boys? Well, I am hereby announcing the official color for us Men Of A Certain Age (drum roll; trumpet herald): COBALT BLUE! Be careful about making assumptions about cobalt blue when you see a just printed sample of it. You really have to see it in glass, porcelain, watercolor, etc. to get a real sense of the depth and mystery of this color. Same for us older guys. Over time, that baby blue has become much deeper with a certain mystique about it.

So what brought on this defense of aging, or as I like to call it: living the Second-Coming-Of-Age?

Kathleen The Muse

If you've followed this blog for awhile, you've heard me mention my muse, Kathleen. Kathleen and her sister are owners of an amazing business called Braid Creative. As a service of their company they broadcast an e-letter with helpful tips and inspiration for young, creative entrepreneurs. I will readily admit that I am neither young nor entrepreneurial, but occasionally I feel creative, but can I call myself creative?

As I've said before, Kathleen as a muse can be very challenging--in a good way. With her, you don't get by with anything. You can only do so much talking before she begins to expect results. This blog, About Pops, for what it's worth, wouldn't exist if it weren't for her challenge to me.

Anyway, a few days ago, she sent this e-letter (I've edited it some): 

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HAVING A GOOD IDEA IS NOT ENOUGH | from Kathleen Shannon

You all know that Tara and I are sisters, right? Well, our dad often tries to make a bid for a position in our family business as our “idea man”. He outlines his job description as having a space in the corner of our office with a single bare light bulb and chain hanging above his elementary school-style desk. He might have a pen and yellow legal pad for notes and sketches. Any time he has an idea he pulls the chain, turns on the light bulb, and declares his idea – it might be an idea for our own business or an idea for our branding clients. Then it’s our responsibility to capture his ideas and do what we will with them. 

As ridiculous as this may sound a lot of aspiring creatives and young freelancers have the same dream job as our dad. They’re so great at coming up with good ideas they basically want their job title to be “idea guy”. But having a good idea is not enough, because guess what? Most people have good ideas – what makes a creative stand out from most people is their ability to make it real. Sitting in the corner of a room with a light bulb hanging above your head does not make you creative. Being able to bring the idea into the world as an actual service, offering, or product is what makes you creative. (Sorry, dad!) 

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See what I mean? When it comes to muse-like encouragement and inspiration, she cuts even her dad no slack. But a few days later, overcome with pity, remorse, or something, she sent this (somewhat edited):

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I’M NOT A CREATIVE… | from Kathleen Shannon

A couple weeks ago I sent out an email saying that just because you have ideas does not make you a creative. That being creative means you’re able to take action on your ideas to make them real. I used my dad’s dream job as our “idea man” as an example and you guys… I really hurt his feelings.

So it was a Friday afternoon, just after I had sent out that letter proclaiming that having a good idea is not enough, and I was hanging out with my sister after work. My parents stopped to pick up my sister’s kids for the night and my dad comes in the house with a big frown and sideways glare in my direction. He also had a bloodshot eye which made the whole thing that much more intimidating. He gruffed at me, “I never said I was ‘A Creative.’ I never said that.” 

And then I felt like a terrible person. While I was kind of just poking fun at his expense and obviously didn’t mean harm, I realized I had made a big mistake. 

Because the truth is… Everyone is creative. It’s just another label that either you identify with or you don’t. My dad is truly brilliant. He’s kind of a big deal at his government job in air quality and has his masters degree from the University of Hawaii in earth science. But beyond that he tells really funny stories and writes limericks for his retiring buddies. He makes a mean deviled ham and eggs on toast. He is a state champion at catching bass and can remember where the fish are biting at lakes he hasn’t been to for years. If that’s not creative, I don’t know what is.

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Yes Kathleen, sometimes you have to look deeper and longer at us cobalt blue guys, but it's worth it.

So maybe on the surface we look like whimsical old relics, living off the stories of our virile youth years. But as I said, the scriptures promise us the dreamer role--the Idea Men; "So we've got that going for us, which is nice."

Recognize that line? It's a classic from one of our Second-Coming-Of-Age brothers: Carl Spackler (played by Bill Murray in the film treasure, Caddyshack).

Here's the text and the clip from the film. 

Carl Spackler: So I jump ship in Hong Kong and I make my way over to Tibet, and I get on as a looper at a course over in the Himalayas.
Angie D'Annunzio: A looper?
Carl Spackler: A looper, you know, a caddy, a looper, a jock. So, I tell them I'm a pro jock, and who do you think they give me? The Dalai Lama, himself. Twelfth son of the Lama. The flowing robes, the grace, bald... striking. So, I'm on the first tee with him. I give him the driver. He hauls off and whacks one - big hitter, the Lama - long, into a ten-thousand foot crevasse, right at the base of this glacier. Do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga... gunga, gunga-lagunga. So we finish the eighteenth and he's gonna stiff me. And I say, "Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know." And he says, "Oh, uh, there won't be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness." So I got that goin' for me, which is nice.

And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions. Joel 2:28.

Making A List...

Should every guy have a "bucket list?" Seems like it's a concept for older guys, but maybe, like the inverse of youth, this one's wasted on the old.

I was sent a link to a recommended list. Of course, there are as many suggested bucket lists as there are people getting close to their bucket. This one is interesting to me however, for a couple of reasons: one, it is from Esquire magazine, a self-proclaimed magazine for young men; and two, it is one of the longest and most creative I've seen. You would have to start as a young man to check all the boxes on this one. But as I said in paragraph one, that's who ought to be working through a list anyway.

Esquire magazine didn't consult me regarding the title of this list, but if they had, I would have told them the title was all wrong. Men of their "young" target audience don't even have death on their radar. Plus, I don't know many young men that will read a list that's 83 items long, if they read at all. Most of the lists they seem to read are more like: "3 Steps to a Firmer This" or "5 Sure Fire Ways to a Stronger That."  

Well, on to the list. For each item on the list I've included the wording pretty much as it was printed in Esquire. Then I've included my comments, if any, in a bolder typeface.

83 THINGS EVERY MAN SHOULD DO BEFORE HE DIES
Experiences, endeavors, opportunities, journeys, and fantastically bad ideas you might want to give an honest try.

1. Apologize. Now, apologize isn't a thing you'll find on most life lists. But then, most life lists require you to exit your life, or your good sense, to execute the list items—parachute from outer space, visit the Titanic, sit through a whole season of Girls. Not that you'd be tempted, but don't do those things. Do these.

2. Take down that wall. Rip up a floor. Fell a tree.

All but the tree.

3. Lose 15 pounds without talking about it.

Done it, but it took heart surgery to make it happen.

4. Take one stunning train trip. The more nights, the better.

I've taken a few train trips, but none over night. I have spent a lot of nights sleeping in the luggage rack of a tour bus.

5. Preemptively say, "I'm sorry, too" when in the midst of a vicious argument with a loved one. Works only once per relationship. But it works.

Check.

6. Spend an uncomfortable amount of money on a really good suit.

I have spent a relatively uncomfortable amount on a suit, but I'm not sure it was for a "really good" one.

7. Leave a tip big enough to upset you.

Does leaving a tip at all when the service didn't warrant one count?

8. Make a pilgrimage to Bonneville Salt Flats, site of land-speed-record attempts for more than fifty years and a big piece of gorgeous nowhere. Go there to drive very fast. Go there to camp. Go there for the sunrises and the sunsets and the stars at night. Go there to be alone.

This won't make my list. I remember pictures in Hot Rod magazine and it had no appeal then or now. 

9. Take a little girl to see The Nutcracker.

I do this annually.

10. Nearly die, then don’t.

Did I mention heart surgery? Not sure how close I came.

11. See a band’s last show ever.

I played drums in a couple of bands and was there for the last show ever. Does that count? I've also been to shows that should have been the band's last.

12. Selectively run red lights.

Who hasn't?

13. Have yourself a little cannonball run. Different teams. Different beat-up used cars, procured specifically for this occasion and each costing less than $700. A race for time across 278 miles of road (and 90 degree desert heat) between Los Angeles and Las Vegas, and no rules about T-boning, rear-ending, or winning at any cost.

We drove from Tulsa to LA ONCE when I was thirteen. That was enough.

14. Volunteer.

Check.

15. Fly in the Beaver. You know the Beaver. Around since the forties and looks it. It has a big round radial engine, an oily, primitive thing the size of an old Volkswagen. But it flies, and lands anywhere covered in water.

Although it wasn't a Beaver, I've had my share of small plane experiences.

16. Love something other than yourself. Like a dog. Or even a person.

Check.

17. Shoot a Glock. Do you know what it’s like to have a heart bursting at the end of your arm? Didn’t think so.

No interest. I have shot a 12 gauge at clay pigeons.

18. Write a poem. Make it about whatever you're feeling about whatever you're seeing in your mind's eye. A person. Someone you love. It's a poem; why waste it on anger or fear? That stuff is what prose is for.

Check. I know what you're thinking: he doesn't want to shoot a Glock, but he writes poetry. I also have a motorized two-wheeled vehicles in my garage. It's a Vespa, not a Harley. Let's say I'm confident and comfortable in my own manly skin.

19.  __________________________

I'm skipping this one as it was printed. My 86 year-old mother reads this blog.

20. Try as many drugs as possible. Also, if possible, before 9:00 P.M. on a Tuesday.

Did I mention heart surgery? I now take a medley of medications with enough side-effects to make me strip naked and howl at the moon. Put that on your list, Esquire.

21. Make an incredibly important decision very quickly. One example: go from single to married in six whole days.

My Amazing-Missus and I had our first date on a New Year's Eve, we're engaged on Valentine's Day and married in June.

22. Coach kids. Not necessarily your own.

Check

23. Pick two to four friends. Go on annual vacations. No significant others allowed.

Why?

24. Develop a personal uniform.

This is one I really want to do.

25. Learn to tell a joke. When in doubt, mock the powerful, not the powerless. And focus on the things that everyone hates or loves. One tip: Everyone hates Congress – even Congress.

I've been doing this successfully since childhood. My fourth-grade teacher said so.

26. Hold a newborn’s hand.

Check. And I will get to do it again in June when our third grand-girl is born.

27. Get lost in the world. Because when you don’t know where you are, you just might end up in the place where you most want to be. You don’t have to go to the Atacama Desert in Chile either. But it helps.

I've been lost in Chicago and St. Louis.

28. Change someone else's tire without having to be asked.

Check

29. Offer a stem-winding toast to your father, in the presence of your father.

My Dad's a Baptist pastor. The only toast in our house had jelly on it.

30. Write a country song.

I wish I had written "I'd Rather Have A Bottle In Front of Me Than A Frontal Lobotomy."

31. Build an irresponsible fire.

My maternal grandmother warned us that boys who do this also wet the bed. Why risk it?

32. Shovel soil onto a casket.

Check.

33. Take a month off.

Off from doing what?

34. Face your own mortality by taking a physical risk.

Did I mention I took one of those $50 heart scans and that led to surgery?

35. Drive cross-country the other way—from Great Falls, Montana, to Austin, Texas.

Does Tulsa to Winnipeg, Canada count?

36. Walk somewhere at least fifty miles away.

All at once?

37. Climb Angels Landing in Zion National Park.

Not interested.

38. Drive the Going-to-the-Sun Road in Glacier National Park.

We've driven the Pacific Coast Highway.

39. Hondle. It's about shamelessness, about asking and asking and not caring when you get shot down. Once you achieve shamelessness, the world opens its arms to you.

"Hondle" is apparently a version of haggling over price, but with the added dimension of shamelessness. To do something shamelessly is a good addition to the list.

40. Quit your job. Especially if you are miserable.

Sort of did this, but not until I had a new one lined up.

41. Kill your dinner. No store-bought stranger-killed meat will ever taste so good.

Does fishing count?

42. Put your phone down. Seriously, just put it down.

Done.

43. Make enemies! Stand for something.

Done more times than I care to admit.

44. Sleep outside, next to a fire.

Check.

45. Sleep outside, in a public park.

Check.

46. Try really @#$%^& hard to be great at one thing.

Time will tell.

47. Help to bring life into the world.

Check.

48. Switch your lights off, even if just for a second, while driving late on a moonless night on a two-lane road.

Does just forgetting to turn them on count?

49. Reach or explore your peak performance levels while stinking drunk.

How would you know? Is there a meter or a buzzer that goes off?

50. Live your nightmare. An example was doing standup comedy.

I have been talking about doing the standup comedy, once, at an open-mic night. I've been working on my routine.

51. Learn how to make an Old-Fashioned at the drop of a hat.

Not interested.

52. Ride a horse. At full tilt. Across a field.

Done that. The horse was in total control. I was just an unwilling passenger.

53. Make something with your hands. We know a guy who makes violins in a little shop, which he also made. We know another guy who makes large abstract sculptures: blocks of stone that weigh tons. We're happy they make these things and are sort of in awe of their process and results. But we're talking about something more useful. Make something useful with your hands.

My handmade stuff tends more to the aesthetic than the utilitarian. 

54. Make a sandwich at three in the morning.

Probably have.

55. Swim naked. (At least 30 minutes after that sandwich)

Check.

56. Sing for your supper. Like literally sing to strangers in the hopes they toss change and maybe even some bills in your hat.

While I don't want to be the singer, I do have on my bucket list to be a part of a street-performing group.

57. Meet your hero, if you have one.

I have several and have met most of them.

58. Have a hero.

Check.

59. Spend an afternoon reading in the Rose Reading Room of the New York Public Library.

Check. It was a cold, rainy day. I would do it again.

60. Walk away from a conversation you aren’t enjoying without explanation.

Done.

61. Get fired, for cause.

Done. Apparently, I just wasn't cut out to be a school bus driver.

62. Talk to your father. About his life before you knew him. Sooner rather than later.

Some, but not enough.

63. Sail continuously for three days and nights on the open ocean.

I am actually certified in Coastal Sailing and Navigation. Part of the certification was a multi-night sail.

64. Master a skill with your non-dominant hand, like shaving or brushing your teeth.

I can chord my ukelele with my non-dominant hand.

65. Get married at least once.

Check.

66. Hire someone.

Yep.

67. Fire someone.

Ditto.

68. Watch a kid's show. Figure out its message. Incorporate that message into your general outlook.

No doubt, Captain Kangaroo had a huge impact on my worldview.

69. Attend the launch of a rocket.

Mostly bottle-rockets.

70. Believe in something fervently, with every fiber of your being; then believe in its opposite.

Yes, but that's a whole other post.

71. Eat at Roscoe's House of Chicken 'n Waffles, Los Angeles.

I have eaten at Sear's Fine Foods in San Francisco--the best pancakes and waffles I've even eaten.

72. Walk around New York City all night. Because a walk like this is not possible in any other city in the country. You can't plan such a walk. You just have to be ready for it.

Pretty much all night.

73. Commit a petty crime.

I was involved for a very short time in an organized crime ring. We were all in the 7th grade. I won't go into the sordid details.

74. Read any novel you “read” in high school. Be amazed.

I regularly reread a novel we were not allowed to read in high school-- "Catcher In The Rye", and it is amazing.

75. Read Huckleberry Finn.

Yes.

76. Read Fifty Shades of Grey.

Check. Don't judge me.

77. By the way: you need not do any of these things no matter what anyone says: Learn a foreign language. Watch The Wire. Run a marathon. Develop character by setbacks. Fast for longer than theologically necessary. Have a picnic. Work at a standing desk. Visit a sex club. Attend the Super Bowl. Join any given social-media platform. Count your lucky stars. Drink absinthe. “See the world.”

Noted.

78. Do something incredibly interesting and refuse to monetize it.

Several times.

79. Have a pair of shoes made.

Can't even imagine it.

80. Run for office, win.

Done with politics.

81. Run for office, lose.

Check. I once ran for local school board. I lost, which in retrospect was actually a win.

82. Spend some time in Detroit, where you can do most of the things on this list with impunity.

Check.

83. Don’t have a life list. Keep on like before—travel, eat, go places—until the things you’ve done, rather than the things you’ve yet to try, define the man that you are.

Advice taken.

So, what's on your list?