Defunct #T

 

 I wrote this piece five years ago.  But each June I reflect on the one-time career and the years that have passed since.  This is a pretty good summary of my thinking, still no l regrets.  I changed only the number of years since retirement, added footnote.

June 30

Twenty-eight years ago today I was officially superannuated.*  Closed out the career.  Retired.

Thanks to time off for good behavior and other favorable considerations, I had actually turned in the keys a few days earlier.  But the record shows June 30, 1990 to be the official retirement date.

You step off the train.  The train moves on.  It is bound on a journey which brought you to this point, but you cannot go now where it is going.  You may go somewhere else by some other means, but that train is gone, and its destination is not your destination.

The beginning of the twenty-ninth year of retirement sparks a bit of reflection.  I am not one for "what ifs" or "it might have beens."  In fact, regrets make up a very tiny package, and I do not carry it with me.  Thus I do not regret that my portfolio might have been more impressive had I stayed longer on the ride.  I not only do not regret, I revel in the choice I made.  I rejoice in my journey along the byways that that train does not travel.

"The laborer is worthy of his hire."  Work is not life; it is an honorable provision of the means for living.  To those who ask, What do you do with yourself?  I say, I am living.  I am abundantly blessed.

*Synonyms for superannuated: old, old-fashioned, antiquated, out of date, outmoded, broken-down, obsolete, disused, defunct

Superman and the Pigeons #T

Travel has become one of those frenetic activities I no longer engage in, so I asked a stringer in Metropolis to seek out Superman, see how he's doing these days.

Jimmy, no not that Jimmy, found the old superhero on a park bench.  The red cape was tightly wrapped around his shoulders, sunny day but a bit brisk, you see.  The great man was feeding the pigeons flocking around his feet.  A big bronze-and-white bird swooped in for a landing, sailed over Superman's left shoe and dropped a bit of whitener right on the toe of the brogan.

"Drat!"

"Excuse me?"

"Not talking to you, Sonny."

"Would you talk to me if I told you I'm a news reporter looking for an update on our favorite hero?"

"Well, are you?"

Jimmy is not necessarily quick on his feet, nor in his processing, either.  He stammered a bit, then as though someone threw a switch the light came on. "Yes, sir.  I am."

"Whata ya wanna know?"

"Do you ever want to get back into the fray, so to speak?  Catch some bad guys?

"Nah.  Too many of them; catch one, five spring up to take his place.  Or hers."

"But what will become of us, then?"

"Don't ask me. Dozens, hundreds of doomsday scenarios out there.  Pick one."

"Do you feel as though your career has been an exercise in futility, then?"

"Pretty much.  Why don't you just write up whatever you want.  You seem to have all the answers, anyway."

"Sorry.  Just trying to get the story.  Have you any advice?"

"Yes, take the sunshine, feed the pigeons, wipe the kaka off my shoe, and hit the road."

Red Letter Day

I was riffling through the pages of my pocket day minder from twenty-five years ago.  On Wednesday, June 13, 1990 I had written "Red letter day.  Officially retired?"

I cannot tell you what the interrogation point at the end of the entry meant at the time, but I am guessing that it was put there in the belief that I would certainly be called by some mucky-muck in the system for something job-related.

At any rate, it was the first day I walked out of the building as a non-employee of the school district, for I was there at the planning stage of the building, saw it through its construction, and opened it for business in August 1972.

I have looked back, of course I have, for I held the best job in the world for those eighteen years, but I have never looked back with regret.  Taking on the job was the best thing I ever did; laying it down was the best thing I ever did.  Sort that out.

I am blessed far beyond my just desserts.


Looking back.  Just there, across the street.  I used to work there.

Teaching Then and Now

Horace Mann has been providing insurance and investment services to teachers for 70 years.  I am a customer.  I received this celebratory flyer from the company and I was immediately transported back many years.  There I stand at the front of the classroom in the old Tipton High School building, these rows of desks fastened to runners such that the custodian can sweep, move the row, sweep, oil the wooden floors.  Each  morning the rows are a few feet left or right of the position they occupied the previous day.

The slate boards, the chalk rails, the blonde maple teacher's desk all as they were when they represented the furnishings in my fiefdom.

Now if you read my scrawls on the advertisement you might mistakenly conclude that I did not like my job.  But if you have been reading String Too Short to Tie for any length of time you know that I considered my job as a teacher to be the best job in the world.  Of course, that includes my tasks as a teacher from the office as principal of a school in the last eighteen years of my career.  Anyway, the reason I am happy that someone else is now occupying the teaching position is that teaching and life itself are ever-changing.  It is not that I would not appreciate the new technologies or even new techniques, but rather it is the case that we serve during a season of service in our lives, then we pass the torch on to the young, to those with the strength, enthusiasm, and endurance to carry on with the task.

Bless you, teachers, wherever you practice your art.  I would not trade places with you.  Nor, I think, would you want to trade with me.  It's all good.

All in Fun

Monday I wrote about new socks.  Sharkey commented that she had a hard time picturing me wearing weird or unusual socks.

I responded that in my working days, I was "known" for my exotic footwear.  I offer this exhibit.  At my retirement party, several of my staff members "mocked" me in a light-hearted manner by wearing gaudy stockings.

Did I ever mention that I had a wonderful and fun-loving staff?

Lay Down the Load

June 30

Twenty-three years ago today I was officially superannuated. Closed out the career.  Retired.

Thanks to time off for good behavior and other favorable considerations, I had actually turned in the keys a few days earlier.  But the record shows June 30, 1990 to be the official retirement date.

You step off the train.  The train moves on.  It is bound on a journey which brought you to this point, but you cannot go now where it is going.  You may go somewhere else by some other means, but that train is gone, and its destination is not your destination.

The beginning of the twenty-fourth year of retirement sparks a bit of reflection.  I am not one for "what ifs" or "it might have beens."  In fact, regrets make up a very tiny package, and I do not carry it with me.  Thus I do not regret that my portfolio might have been more impressive had I stayed longer on the ride.  I not only do not regret, I revel in the choice I made, I rejoice in my journey along the byways that that train does not travel.

"The laborer is worthy of his hire."  Work is not life; it is an honorable provision of the means for living.  To those who ask, What do you do with yourself?  I say, I am living.  I am abundantly blessed.