Poetry at Work, Chapter 20: The Poetry of Retirement

I might have retired twice from the same company.

I officially retired in 2015, and I’d had given a year’s notice. I could have continued working, but the fact was that my skills, experience, and abilities were being wasted. I could have continued for a few more years, perhaps hoping for another general downsizing and a severance package, but work had become almost painful. 

When I told the head of the department of my plan to retire, the response was surprising. He became angry. It wasn’t as if I was irreplaceable. Without really knowing, I suspect it was more a case of I was doing it on my timetable, and it wasn’t something the department was planning on its timetable.

To continue reading, please see my post today at Literary Life.

Richard and Leona Bergstrom's "Third Calling"

I can speak from experience. Planning for your retirement is work. In fact, we’d been planning for several years before I actually retired from the 9-to-5 corporate life. The financial aspects are critical, and we gave that a considerable amount of focus, helped greatly by our financial advisor.

But, as I learned, there’s more than the financial considerations.

I thought I had planned what I would be doing on the other important things as well. I would be working as part of the online staff for The High Calling and Tweetspeak Poetry. I would be doing freelance and contract work. I would be writing. And we would spend a month on vacation in England.

Here, the record has so far been mixed. We did spend a month in England, and survived bad colds. My work with Tweetspeak Poetry continued, and still does. The High Calling shut down. Freelance work, particularly work with one firm, did a major trajectory upward earlier this year, and then did a major trajectory downward. I liked the work, but I also like getting paid for the work I do.

I wish I had had Richard and Leona Bergstrom’s Third Calling: What are you doing the rest of your life two years ago.

The Bergstroms lead a Christian ministry called Re-Ignite, a faith-based organization aimed squarely at the Baby Boom generation who want to serve God and make a difference in the world. Through retreats, seminars, consulting, coaching, and a blog, Re-Ignite helps Baby Boomers do exactly that.

The name “Third Calling” comes from the third of three stages of life. The first stage or calling is the young adult stage – launching a career, marriage, establishing a family. The second stage or calling is the years of middle age – peak career years, getting children through high school and into college. The third calling is the retirement period – empty nest (with adult children sometimes coming back hoe), career transformation, possibly caring for an aging parent.

It’s significant that the Bergstroms refer to these three periods as “callings,” because, for Christians, that’s what they are – the specific actions and activities God has called us to do. They focus on the third period; for many if not most of us, it can be just as confusing as the earlier callings.

Third Calling offers a step-by-step process for understanding what this period of life is about, and what you can be doing. Retirement may be an American cultural concept, but it is not a concept found in the Bible.

Leona and Richard Bergstrom

What you will find is a discussion about knowing your purpose, pursuing your dreams, understanding your values, exploring new worlds, and navigating both deep and shallow waters. Doing this is work – the book does include practical exercises, but they are not something that can be dashed off in a spare 20 minutes. This period of your life is just as important as the earlier ones, and just as much work is going to be involved.

And while it is written from a Christian perspective, it can be helpful to anyone embarking upon this third major period of life.

As I mentioned, I wish I had had Third Calling two years ago as part of my retirement planning. But I do have it now. And now comes the work – the welcome work.

Photograph by Kevin Phillips via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

Retirement, pirate style

We ran down from the town, loot

in our hands and arms, to water’s edge,

small boats waiting to ferry us back

to the Sea Witch, when Capn, a millennial

no less and looking more a boy than a man,

nodded me aside, and rasped quickly

through broken teeth, his breath rummed:

“Bluebeard, old man, it’s been a good run.

Time to rest on the beach a bit.” He smiled,

knocking me over as two of my mates

quickly tied my feet and ran for the boats.

They left me my loot: a gold watch.

Retirement, pirate style.

Better than a blade in the ribs,

I suppose.

Untying the knots, I watched them

row to the ship, and would have stayed

on the sand except I could hear

angry voices from the town, clamoring

for blood with only mine available.

I did what any self-respecting pirate

would do, and made a run for the trees,

run being a relative word, similar

to scuttle and stagger.

So I lived in the forest for a time,

until the town could rebuild

if not forget, eating nuts and

small moving things, not a diet

I would recommend.

I plotted my second career, and one day

a bedraggled and barefoot man

washed up on the beach, a castaway,

the only survivor forced to the plank

he said, after a terrible pirate attack.

They took me in, and fed me,

and housed me, and took care

of a fellow victim, and I repaid

kindness with kindness. I worked

hard, I served, only reluctantly

did I accept honors and accolades.

Eventually, they elected me governor.

And I became a pirate again.

This week, Tweetspeak Poetry has a poetry prompt on pirates and aging (it was rare, way back when, for pirates to age much beyond 2 or 3 years after becoming a pirate, because they died). To see what others had to say (and write), please visit Tweetspeak Poetry.

Photograph by Petr Kratochvil via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

All the things I would miss

I thought I would miss it

the adrenaline rush (daily)

the pace of the crises multiple

times a day

the conflict, the collaboration

the meetings, hallway talks,

all the ways work happens

I thought I would miss

the routine of the commute

arrival and departure

the occasional journeys,

and talking about the politics

of the politics of the workplace,

the office, the village of cubicles

radiating through pixels

across the planet

As it turns out, I do miss the people,

the ones I worked closest with,

but as for the rest of it,

I don’t miss it at all

Photograph by Paul Brennan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

The Stewardship of Retirement

Original themed content at The High Calling is ending this week, with posts next week featuring each editor’s favorite post (I have to sort through five years of articles to determine a favorite.) Appropriately enough, the theme this week is “Finishing Strong,” and I have a post entitled “The Stewardship of Retirement:”

As the time approached for me to seriously considering retiring, I discovered something: retirement is not a biblical concept.

Moses led the Israelites until he died and God buried him somewhere in Moab. David was king until he died. Paul and Peter continued their ministries until they were martyred. Even the Apostle John, exiled on Patmos, the only disciple who (it’s believed) died of old age, was still working, writing down the vision given him.

The Bible has no retirement road map. But it does have a concept that applies to retirement in the twenty-first century, and that concept is stewardship.

To continue reading, please see my post at The High Calling.

Photograph by Paul Brennan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

Poetry at Work: The Poetry of Retirement

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.

To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry.

Photograph by Paul Brennan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.