Creating retirement, step by step

At the end of George F. Walker’s play Zastrozzi, the villain (and main character) is mocked after his plan for vengeance is thwarted. Rather than accepting defeat, he celebrates — because, he claims, “it will keep me preoccupied. Now leave. And hide well. I wish to be preoccupied for a long time.” Being meaningfully occupied has been my biggest challenge in retirement. 

My retirement was abrupt. On Mar. 6, 2020, at the onset of COVID-19, I left Brock University in southern Ontario where I was a professor in the department of dramatic arts to return to my family and home base in Edmonton. There, I worked remotely for a while, then completely retired, only returning as professor emeritus to participate in an ongoing collaborative research project.  

There was no ease into retirement. I hired a former graduate student to take pictures of my shelves and to ship me those books for which I might still have purpose. He kept some of the others, gave some away, and, sadly, discarded the rest. The academic side of me felt stranded, and I struggled to create new, meaningful connections. My mental health became my primary priority. 

The lockdown provided little opportunity for me to connect with family, friends and colleagues. As an extravert, I both thrive on and need personal encounters, so my relationships were forced online. Jamming with my sister’s partner over FaceTime became a significant weekly activity that still continues. He plays keyboard, I guitar, and we both sing. I never had many hobbies, since my academic career was all-consuming, but I did pick up the guitar from time to time. Online jamming became a safe haven during this turbulent time. With the help of Ultimate Guitar we compiled a repertoire. 

With increased confidence from this experience, I joined a guitar group at a local seniors’ centre. Lyrics and chords were projected, and we took turns choosing from a large database of songs. The chooser would sing the verses with the rest playing along and singing the choruses. There was safety in numbers as voices and guitars blended together. Over time, with practice, my voice and playing improved. This pursuit provided another meaningful occupation. 

The group welcomed newcomers’ inputs, and I suggested new songs. It is important to find groups that don’t merely expect one to fit in with long-established norms. As B. Tuckman claims in his essay “Development Sequence in Small Groups,” group dynamics evolve. For me, true welcoming involves an acceptance of change as new members collaboratively redefine the group. Some privately informed me that they enjoyed my contributions. 

Over the summer break, I invited two members who shared similar tastes in music to continue playing. The centre had rooms available, and we met weekly. We took time to refine our selections, and this was obvious to the larger group when we returned in the fall. Our version of the 1950s chart-topper “Kansas City” was a hit, especially with an added harmonica. With this momentum, we continue meeting once a week at our homes. Playing with the larger group, the smaller group, and online with a friend are weekly social events, and along with practicing at home and listening to YouTube songs and lessons, they occupy 10 or more hours per week. My playing continues to evolve and provides me with a meaningful social outlet. 

While the music met an artistic interest, my creative, playful side longed for more. Carl Leggo, a now-deceased colleague and friend, continually sought to find the poetic in the everyday. This was his occupation literally and figuratively. Now that I am not occupied with the administrivia of academic life, my mind has space to do this. I am compiling a series of what I call “car poems.” As I go to-and-fro, I look for inspiration and, in my mind, I write and memorize short haiku-like poems that interpret and describe the everyday, such as a mother and child waiting for a school bus on the first day of a new school year. Thanks to Carl, I am developing an increased creative dispositionthat has expanded to collecting song lyrics from phrases that people say. I have turned some into songs, two of which I have brought to the larger group. 

Presently, I have no ambition for publication or performing in public. Retirement has brought fewer “dead”-line demands: I no longer experience the pressure of the treadmill mentality induced by false notions of productivity through annual reports, and I wish to keep it that way. I have long questioned the phrases “lifelong-learning” and “practicing,” as they place purpose in future events. I prefer “lifelong-being.” Yes, I still learn and grow from the process, but it is for the present enjoyment. Like the concept of “laying down and walking” discussed by Franciso Varela and his co-authors in their classic book The Embodied Mind, the present does prepare you for the future, but it is emergent,not pre-planned. For me, being occupied is being in the present moment, enjoying things for their own sake. It is intrinsic, free from the pressures of proving myself, or, as John Dewy encourages, “cease conceiving of education as mere preparation for later life, and make it the full meaning of the present life”. 

And some things don’t turn out as planned. As another form of occupation, I returned to a dormant hobby — acting — and had a major role in a one-act play with a seniors’ drama club. But it no longer held the interest it once had. Over my career, I had shifted to researching, directing and co-writing plays that explored social issues, and I found that the traditional theatre process and content no longer served my interests. Yes, I was occupied, but if I continued, it would have been more of a time-filler than a passion.  

Still, it was a stepping-stone that occupied some of my time and paved the way to better-suited opportunities. This involvement led to me being elected to the South East Edmonton Seniors Association Board, and when a request came to the Board for assistance in writing a play about elder abuse, I was in the right place at the right time. From that, I came to understand that filler can be part of the process. Like fishing, one situates oneself in semi-meaningful places where one waits patiently for appropriate opportunities to present themselves. Recently, at a guitar jam, I saw a poster about a writers’ group. I joined, adding it to my catch. 

For me, mental and social health depends on keeping creative and playful, both alone and with others. It takes effort, including being on the lookout for opportunities and kindred spirits; strategically situating oneself where opportunities may emerge; and creating new opportunities in which one wishes to be occupied. For me, retirement wasn’t some Shangri-La waiting for me, but one that continues to be created step-by-step.