Photo by Roland Kay-Smith on Unsplash
Call me crazy! Call me unkind? Call me unsympathetic! Call me insulting! Call me self-centered!
Just don’t call me illogical!
You can call me paranoid – because you would be right. Because I admit to a slight case of paranoia developed over the last decade-and-a-half or so.
I’m terrified that I might become a “geezer”!
You know what I’m referring to – that grumpy, immobile, smelly old fart that you swore you would never become.
Yes, that redundant, useless “elderly” that has been shuttled to the sidelines, park bench or nursing home by a youth-oriented culture that prefers we are out-of-sight – a society that largely resents us taking up space and using up valuable oxygen.
My paranoia is so real that four years ago I began penning a 45,000-word book by the same title: “Is Your Geezer Showing? Ten Steps To Not Becoming That Grumpy, Immobile, Smelly Old Fart That You Said You Would Never Become.”
The book is stuck in terminal edit mode. Some say I should pull the trigger and put it out there. Others say it’s too close to the bone and “unfriendly.”
Add those to a long, creative list of reasons for keeping it on my voluminous procrastination stack.
Maybe if you read the introduction, you could advise me as to whether or not you feel it should stay on the stack. Here it is:
I dread the thought of being called a “geezer”.
I’m grateful that, so far, it’s happened rarely in my life, usually in jest in a playful conversation with a group of similarly-aged friends, geezer candidates all.
But now, deep into my eighth decade, I have an increasing dread of hearing that moniker aimed at me, whether playfully or earnestly.
To be a geezer is not a destination that I want in my life.
Perhaps I’m overly self-conscious, paying too much attention to the external – the eye-bags, jowls, wrinkles, hair in the wrong places, turkey-neck, age-spots, persistent belt-overhang, ad infinitum.
Perhaps it’s resentment. I don’t need anyone’s help to remind me that the calendar is getting shorter.
Perhaps it’s because it’s an ageist term and I’m on a crusade against ageism.
Perhaps I’m feeling some guilt about having used the term, under my breath, on those occasions where an “elderly” is causing me some level of inconvenience – slow driver, holding up a line, etc.
Perhaps it’s because it strikes too close to home, forcing a face-off with the reality that I’m at a point, at the three-quarter century mark, where I could easily become one.
But most of all, I dread the term being directed at me because it means I may have demonstrated something that invited it. And that bothers me because it is something I have considerable control over.
This rather silly pre-occupation roused my curiosity about the origin of the word and how it came to carry such a derogatory meaning.
What is a geezer? What really defines a geezer? When does “geezerdom” start? What would it look like? What is it about me that would elicit this lovely term from someone?
How does one avoid becoming one?
That’s where I intend(ed) to go with the book.
A geezer definition
Merriam Webster defines a geezer as: “a queer, odd or eccentric person – especially of elderly men.”
Wikipedia says: “the term typically refers to a cranky old man.”
There, you see – just what I don’t want!
I did a very informal, unscientific poll of friends, family, and acquaintances to see how consistent other people’s descriptions of geezer are. Here’s a sample of their responses to the question “What do you think of when I say the word “geezer?”
“An old man that’s going nowhere. Not so much age-specific but attitude specific. My dad is 85 and not a geezer – very active, still working developing a mobile sawmill, hunts, and fishes, traps, involved in the community. Conversely, my aunt, his sister, ‘hunkered down’ early and has health problems as a result.” Fellow Toastmaster Club Member
“A guy, older, some hair, funny whiskers on his chin. Something you wouldn’t want to be. Not age specific –more of an attitude.” My wife (Note: I’m relieved she didn’t just say “You!”)
“Old guy bent over on a cane. Hook nose, warts, snarling.” Member of extended family
“A cross old man who sits on the porch and every other word is f*#@, drinking a cheap geezer beer in a sleeveless undershirt.” Name and relationship withheld for obvious reasons – I really don’t know this person!
I suspect you may have your own description – most likely not very uplifting either.
Age-ing to Sage-ing
I have Rabbi Zalman Schacter-Shalomi and Ronald S. Miller, co-authors of “From AGE-ING to SAGE-ING; A Revolutionary Approach to Growing Older” to thank for re-stimulating the latent geezer paranoia in me.
If you share even a modicum of my paranoia, you might consider plowing through this challenging but seminal book on becoming an “elder” instead of just “elderly”.
Here’s a taste: by way of encouraging continued and deeper learning, the authors remind us that we seriously underutilize our brain capacity and that we can counteract the ravages of brain cell disintegration associated with ageing by increasing neural connections through meditation (pick your own form) and lifelong learning.
Specifically, they say: “- – elders need to upgrade the number and range of programs that their brains are able to process. Without doing this, elders will continue to be devalued by society as a useless and redundant population.”
Ouch! See, there is more justification for my paranoia.
Pouring more fuel on the fire, the authors quote the head of a Sufi order in the West and a respected meditation person who says:
“If you don’t know that you can be a new person, you will continue dragging your old self-image into the brave new world. You will be outrun and pronounced redundant, unable to make a contribution to the inexorable advance of evolution on our planet.”
And then the paragraph that motivated this post:
“Who needs “old geezers” around if all they do is deplete the Social Security system and give back little to society? But if we honored elders for their moral and spiritual leadership, we would value this form of ‘invisible productivity’ as necessary for our survival.”
I guess I hadn’t really thought of my quest of encouraging “elderhood” instead of “elderly” as one of “invisible productivity” but I’m motivated by the term.
It’s a concept worthy of deeper understanding. Further into the book, the authors relate it to “holding the field” whereby we contribute to our “personal and collective well-being by growing beyond our current level of understanding”, recognize our inherent potential and accumulated wisdom and thus empower ourselves to pay forward and “hold the field” for those behind us.
That’s all kind of “anti-geezer”, don’t you think?
Maybe I should finish the book. I’m going back to see how much, if any, of it will help anybody “hold the field.” Perhaps I’ve been “invisibly productive” and not known it.
Your thoughts on the matter will be taken seriously. Leave them below.
I’ll let you know what I decide.
Consider Being a Post-career Gadfly
Photo by Егор Камелев on Unsplash
Socrates once said, “Beware the barrenness of a busy life.”
This guy seemed to know “busy barrenness” without even having a smartphone, the internet, a Facebook account or a mortgage.
This was just one of many jabs that Socrates took at Athenian society, of which he was a reluctant part. That is until they convinced him he would be better off test-driving a hemlock cocktail than continuing to be a pain in the arse of the Athens establishment.
Plato tagged Socrates as the “gadfly” of Athens.
A gadfly is a “fly that bites or annoys livestock” often “stinging the animal into action”.
Socrates is said to have referred to himself as a gadfly because he “bites and buzzes at the self-satisfied”, thus establishing himself as an unpopular social and moral critic.
Sounds like a great role for us “third-agers”!
The idea of being a gadfly in this third act of my life (without the prescripted hemlock) appeals to me. Infected as I am with a personality replete with skepticism and iconoclasm, more “biting and buzzing” in a couple of areas of our culture might add more fun to my quest.
What part of being a third-age/post-career/retiree gadfly doesn’t make sense?
I’ll bet you’ve got a handful of favorite areas you’d like to “gadfly”.
Here are three of my favorite candidates for “biting and buzzing”:
I’ve been gadflying around these issues for some time now.
How to be a gadfly – three easy steps.
Moving right into “biting and buzzing” may be too far, too fast. Consider three steps building toward becoming a legitimate, recognized gadfly.
Suppose you wanted to make a statement against our healthcare system and food industry and ageism all at once. What would a Gandhi approach look like?
Is it difficult to establish credibility on a topic of your choice? Consider two powerful statistics :
We’re talking gadfly here, not national authority to start. I think you get the point. It’s not hard to set yourself apart to diplomatically and authoritatively put holes in suspect myths, models and messages.
“You’ve paid your dues to society by fulfilling the demands of career and parenting. Instead of retiring to uselessness, you can now graduate into the global function of seership involved in the larger issues of life, the wider cultural and planetary concerns. Become a sage, charged with the evolutionary task of feeding wisdom back to society and guiding its future development.”
Sounds kinda like a gadfly, don’t you think? Those are the words of Rabbi Zalman Shachter-Shalomi in “From AGE-ing to SAGE-ing: A Revolutionary Approach to Growing Older”.
What are some of the issues out there that you feel need “biting and buzzing?” If you are already biting and buzzing, let me know in a comment below what you are gadflying – and what is working best for you.
If you haven’t already, sign up for our weekly newsletter and article at www.makeagingwork.com and receive a free ebook entitled “Achieve Your Full-Life Potential: Five Easy Steps to Living Longer, Healthier, and With More Purpose.”
Is Your Geezer Showing?
Photo by Roland Kay-Smith on Unsplash
Call me crazy! Call me unkind? Call me unsympathetic! Call me insulting! Call me self-centered!
Just don’t call me illogical!
You can call me paranoid – because you would be right. Because I admit to a slight case of paranoia developed over the last decade-and-a-half or so.
I’m terrified that I might become a “geezer”!
You know what I’m referring to – that grumpy, immobile, smelly old fart that you swore you would never become.
Yes, that redundant, useless “elderly” that has been shuttled to the sidelines, park bench or nursing home by a youth-oriented culture that prefers we are out-of-sight – a society that largely resents us taking up space and using up valuable oxygen.
My paranoia is so real that four years ago I began penning a 45,000-word book by the same title: “Is Your Geezer Showing? Ten Steps To Not Becoming That Grumpy, Immobile, Smelly Old Fart That You Said You Would Never Become.”
The book is stuck in terminal edit mode. Some say I should pull the trigger and put it out there. Others say it’s too close to the bone and “unfriendly.”
Add those to a long, creative list of reasons for keeping it on my voluminous procrastination stack.
Maybe if you read the introduction, you could advise me as to whether or not you feel it should stay on the stack. Here it is:
I dread the thought of being called a “geezer”.
I’m grateful that, so far, it’s happened rarely in my life, usually in jest in a playful conversation with a group of similarly-aged friends, geezer candidates all.
But now, deep into my eighth decade, I have an increasing dread of hearing that moniker aimed at me, whether playfully or earnestly.
To be a geezer is not a destination that I want in my life.
Perhaps I’m overly self-conscious, paying too much attention to the external – the eye-bags, jowls, wrinkles, hair in the wrong places, turkey-neck, age-spots, persistent belt-overhang, ad infinitum.
Perhaps it’s resentment. I don’t need anyone’s help to remind me that the calendar is getting shorter.
Perhaps it’s because it’s an ageist term and I’m on a crusade against ageism.
Perhaps I’m feeling some guilt about having used the term, under my breath, on those occasions where an “elderly” is causing me some level of inconvenience – slow driver, holding up a line, etc.
Perhaps it’s because it strikes too close to home, forcing a face-off with the reality that I’m at a point, at the three-quarter century mark, where I could easily become one.
But most of all, I dread the term being directed at me because it means I may have demonstrated something that invited it. And that bothers me because it is something I have considerable control over.
This rather silly pre-occupation roused my curiosity about the origin of the word and how it came to carry such a derogatory meaning.
What is a geezer? What really defines a geezer? When does “geezerdom” start? What would it look like? What is it about me that would elicit this lovely term from someone?
How does one avoid becoming one?
That’s where I intend(ed) to go with the book.
A geezer definition
Merriam Webster defines a geezer as: “a queer, odd or eccentric person – especially of elderly men.”
Wikipedia says: “the term typically refers to a cranky old man.”
There, you see – just what I don’t want!
I did a very informal, unscientific poll of friends, family, and acquaintances to see how consistent other people’s descriptions of geezer are. Here’s a sample of their responses to the question “What do you think of when I say the word “geezer?”
“An old man that’s going nowhere. Not so much age-specific but attitude specific. My dad is 85 and not a geezer – very active, still working developing a mobile sawmill, hunts, and fishes, traps, involved in the community. Conversely, my aunt, his sister, ‘hunkered down’ early and has health problems as a result.” Fellow Toastmaster Club Member
“A guy, older, some hair, funny whiskers on his chin. Something you wouldn’t want to be. Not age specific –more of an attitude.” My wife (Note: I’m relieved she didn’t just say “You!”)
“Old guy bent over on a cane. Hook nose, warts, snarling.” Member of extended family
“A cross old man who sits on the porch and every other word is f*#@, drinking a cheap geezer beer in a sleeveless undershirt.” Name and relationship withheld for obvious reasons – I really don’t know this person!
I suspect you may have your own description – most likely not very uplifting either.
Age-ing to Sage-ing
I have Rabbi Zalman Schacter-Shalomi and Ronald S. Miller, co-authors of “From AGE-ING to SAGE-ING; A Revolutionary Approach to Growing Older” to thank for re-stimulating the latent geezer paranoia in me.
If you share even a modicum of my paranoia, you might consider plowing through this challenging but seminal book on becoming an “elder” instead of just “elderly”.
Specifically, they say: “- – elders need to upgrade the number and range of programs that their brains are able to process. Without doing this, elders will continue to be devalued by society as a useless and redundant population.”
Ouch! See, there is more justification for my paranoia.
Pouring more fuel on the fire, the authors quote the head of a Sufi order in the West and a respected meditation person who says:
“If you don’t know that you can be a new person, you will continue dragging your old self-image into the brave new world. You will be outrun and pronounced redundant, unable to make a contribution to the inexorable advance of evolution on our planet.”
And then the paragraph that motivated this post:
“Who needs “old geezers” around if all they do is deplete the Social Security system and give back little to society? But if we honored elders for their moral and spiritual leadership, we would value this form of ‘invisible productivity’ as necessary for our survival.”
I guess I hadn’t really thought of my quest of encouraging “elderhood” instead of “elderly” as one of “invisible productivity” but I’m motivated by the term.
It’s a concept worthy of deeper understanding. Further into the book, the authors relate it to “holding the field” whereby we contribute to our “personal and collective well-being by growing beyond our current level of understanding”, recognize our inherent potential and accumulated wisdom and thus empower ourselves to pay forward and “hold the field” for those behind us.
That’s all kind of “anti-geezer”, don’t you think?
Maybe I should finish the book. I’m going back to see how much, if any, of it will help anybody “hold the field.” Perhaps I’ve been “invisibly productive” and not known it.
Your thoughts on the matter will be taken seriously. Leave them below.
I’ll let you know what I decide.
Welcome to “Make Aging Work” – An Update
This past week, I finally got to a task that I’ve delayed for too long – an update to the “About” page on my website. So I’m grabbing a week to share the update with my blog readership. If you’ve been there, the change isn’t big. If you haven’t, I hope it will help put my vision/quest into clear perspective for you. and encourage you to stay along for, and contribute to, the ride.
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Welcome to Make Aging Work!
I think I know why you are here. You’ve blown past the 50-year threshold. You’re coming to grips with the fact that there are fewer days ahead than behind. There’s a growing uneasiness in the gut.
Believe me. Whatever category fits, you are not alone!
I’ve had the opportunity to work with folks in all of the above categories, all moving into and through the “third age” of life – that uncertain, uncharted space between middle-age (end of career and/or end of parenting) and true old age.
I’m an over-75 “portfolio career” guy. The father of two and grandfather of three, I’m approaching a golden anniversary with a wonderful lady who deserves more than what she got with me.
I escaped from rural Wyoming and traversed the country and several industries in various sales and sales management positions across 45+ years. I drank the traditional linear-life-model kool-aid in college. You know, the 20-40-20-year plan, of education, work/family and leisure that was – and still is – drilled into us by our parents, educational system, and the financial services industry – get a degree, get a job, get a family, get a house, get two cars, get a pension, get a gold watch, get a coffin.
My manufacturer colored me with a pretty deep attitude of skepticism and iconoclasm. On my journey – around my mid-forties – it led me to question this traditional linear-life concept, helped along by life experiences and the insights of the pioneers in personal development such as Earl Nightingale, Dennis Waitley, Brian Tracey, Tony Robbins, and others.
The message seemed consistent: those who lived the longest and achieved extraordinary levels of success, freedom, and contribution in their lives didn’t follow the “wisdom of the masses.” They were outliers who operated outside the traditional guideposts and never left the creative and contributory process.
This influence, some personal and professional experiences and my discomfort in the confining environs of corporate life led me to succumb to the allure of owning and running my own business at age 60 – a bit late for a major life transition, so says conventional wisdom.
I made a voluntary exit from a successful telecom sales career of 17 years to become an independent recruiter, a 15-year journey that has had more than its share of highs and lows.
Entrepreneur adventure
I overestimated – as most aspirants do – my entrepreneurial skills and equally underestimated what it takes to start a small business, especially as a solo operator.
The recruiting business helped me, however, develop a deeper understanding of what makes others tick – or not. And it unveiled for me a passion and purpose that corporate life and the linear life indoctrination had covered over.
That passion is helping people find answers to difficult later-life questions. Not because I have all the answers. I’ve learned that everyone has the answers already inside and just need someone to help nudge them out.
My 75+ years of life and business experiences, along with a voracious appetite for reading all things involving personal growth, has helped equip me to be a catalyst to help people hatch the potential they have been roosting on most of their lives.
What’s your rulebook?
I’ve concluded we take life too seriously. And we play much of it with the wrong rules – rules from a societal/cultural rule book that brings us to “shoulda, woulda, coulda” thinking. Rules that are stacked against us being able to realize our full potential.
Nowhere does this become more apparent than when we reach that “over-the-hill” plateau of 50 and realize that we likely have more days behind than ahead.
Perspectives on lots of things begin to evolve, none more profound than the aforementioned classic “What is life and why am I here?” We fear what would be said – or not said – at our eulogy. We begin to accept that the weather will be the main determinant of how many attend our funeral. Our answer to the question “What is my legacy?” is way too close to “insignificant”.
A quixotic mission
I help mid-lifers navigate a very tricky job market or to pivot their careers to something that is profitable as well as purposeful.
I help pre-retirees and early retirees avoid the pitfalls of an unplanned retirement and design a “third act” life filled with purpose and fulfillment.
I speak and write publicly to the issues of better health, greater longevity, and purposeful retirement because I believe we need to elevate our awareness of the aging process and be a stronger voice against the negative stereotypes of aging. And we need to stop allowing the deeply ingrained concept of “traditional, labor-to-leisure” retirement to take us down the path of mental, physical and spiritual deterioration that shortens our lives.
That’s the purpose behind this blog and the speaking I do on these topics.
Retirement or un-retirement? Landing or take-off?
Fortunately, we are seeing a growing wave of “third-agers” who are more interested in “rewiring” than “retiring”, viewing their second half as a chance for another take-off, not a landing.
This site is intended to be a resource for finding answers to the myriad questions that arise as we move into what can be an exciting second growth period of our life.
Rough sailing ahead
Our demographic faces significant challenges ahead: a pervasive youth-oriented culture, rampant ageism, a horribly broken healthcare system, general healthcare illiteracy, government disarray, profit-driven corporate deafness, eroded retirement accounts and continued acceptance of harmful 20th-century myths about the aging process.
A collective voice
I believe strongly that the answers to these challenges lie in the collective knowledge, experiences, and wisdom of our demographic.
I want this site to be both a voice that you want to hear and a valuable resource that will help address these issues of health, longevity, “money and meaning” in later life, “purpose and profitability” in the second half, and intentional living to the end.
Your input, feedback, and requests for ideas, answers, and solutions are what will make it that.
I look forward to active engagement with you and becoming a valued resource.
And the Oscar for a Fulfilling Third Age Goes to – – – –
Image by analogicus from Pixabay
I’ve had some pretty deep conversations over the last six months with some successful, deeply-skilled execs who are looking at, or are early into, the retirement phase of their lives. Each conversation is an adventure, each with uniqueness and depth that challenges my listening skills and my ability to inject something original or stimulating into the conversation.
Occasionally, I don’t add much to the conversation and I come away richer with the coaching role having been somewhat reversed. When I remember to turn my humility meter up and move Mr. Ego aside, I end up growing.
Most of these conversations happen because these folks were referred to me or they found me because I have hung out my “retirement coach” shingle. I really don’t like the moniker so much because I’m not a fan of retirement as it has been defined and drilled into us for the last half-century. But I stick with the distasteful (and confusing, for most) title because the entrenchment of the word retirement is so deep that I can’t expect it to be easily dislodged.
I toyed with different titles/brands that would be more appropriate for my quest and world-view on this topic. Like “plan now for your post-career life before it kicks your ass coach” but it was too tough to come up with a logo – and try getting that on a business card.
If I could pinpoint some common themes that come from these stimulating conversations, three come to mind:
Despite their successful track records, their performance under fire in high-stress environments, their ability to direct and inspire large groups of people and their ability to plan and achieve against those plans, nearly all these folks carry a significant level of uncertainty about “what’s next” for them, post-career.
To the person, they don’t need me to tell them that 30 years of golf, pickle-ball, bingo, bunko, or boche-ball will get old and lead to an early demise.
An Oscar for O-S-C-R
Just this morning, I had a very uplifting conversation with a freshly-retired hospital CEO referred to me because he was prime, according to the referrer, to have a “retirement conversation”, whatever that meant.
Following 30+ years of running hospitals, this exec decided, at 63, to voluntarily hang up his cleats, primarily because he was burned out and concerned about the impact of his job on his health and his marriage.
He too had been advised by his financial planner that he is “OK”. I did sense this achiever was not totally comfortable with that prediction but proceeded nonetheless.
What I found different with this exec from most I talk with is that he was able to articulate a plan involving four different projects he wanted to undertake in this next phase, all built around the skills and experience from his 30 years of leadership and problem-solving. They included hospital CEO mentoring, public speaking, a member on 2-3 boards, strategy consulting to 3-5 mid-sized hospitals.
In addition to this, he is taking his health more seriously (pre-diabetic, he has lost 30 pounds since retiring) and he and his wife are doing more things together, including periodic trips to Kansas City and Indianapolis to visit/babysit new grandkids. They are also resurrecting some other travel plans that have been long-delayed.
As I listened and applauded this ex-exec for his forward thinking, I was reminded of something written by Mitch Anthony in his book “The New Retirementality” where he said (I’m paraphrasing slightly):
“Millions are in a mad rush to get to – – the sidelines. Many of us, however, have already seen enough of our parents’ and forerunners’ retirement scenarios to know that this is not the life for us. We have figured out that our lives will be full of challenge, relevance, stimulation, and occupational adventure.”
I like those four nouns at the end. That’s what this exec is doing. I moved the nouns around and came up with an acronym for which I can start awarding an Oscar for post-career/third age planning – Occupational adventure; Stimulation; Challenge; Relevance – O-S-C-R.
So I have my first Oscar recipient. He doesn’t know he’s received the award – or that it even exists (it didn’t until I had the conversation this morning). He signed up for my blog and maybe he will recognize he is the recipient if he reads today’s blog. If not, maybe I’ll find time to get creative and craft up an Oscar-type graphic and surprise him with it.
I’ll keep it in reserve for the few others that I encounter that have ventured into the fog confident that something will happen – something more than a park bench on the sidelines with an occasional pickle-ball match or 49 hours of G-o-T and other assorted TV gems.
I’m looking for Oscar nominees. Let me know if you know of any. Or volunteer yourself if you think you fit.
A Story of Faith, Patience and Grace
Don Varey didn’t know his career was a lemon until he was forced to turn it into lemonade.
Don was a customer of mine 20 years ago. I was a National Account Manager for MCI/Worldcom (remember them? Bernie Ebbers, Enron era, cowboys and charlatans galore) and Don was an IT Manager for my largest account, a large, well-known Denver-based company.
Don was my favorite customer: likable, knowledgeable, doer, supportive.
I left the craziness of Worldcom just before it went “poof” and I lost touch with Don. When we reconnected, as a result of him reaching out to me as a recruiter because his job had been eliminated, I found out that the dozen or so years that transpired had been very good to Don, culturally speaking.
He had moved up the ranks to the department’s top spot as VP, Information Technology.
High profile, high intensity, high salary, high stress.
Until, one day, on short notice, it wasn’t.
Seems new ownership and top management had their own person in mind for his job. A younger, lower-priced model.
Heard that one before?
Don was on the street in his mid- 50’s, no severance. Funny thing, lifestyle overhead doesn’t stop when the paycheck suddenly does.
Another mid-life casualty of M&A and ageism.
I recall a coffee meeting at Panera shortly after his termination to kick around whether me helping with career transition coaching made sense. Don forged ahead on his own. We reconnected by phone a few times following that meeting and it was obvious that the big title, high salary and some gray in the beard was making it tough to come anywhere close to what he had before.
Job search scorecard
No surprise, Don kept meticulous records during his 7 ½ month search:
If you’ve never been in an executive job search in your 50’s or later while being “gainfully unemployed”, you might be inclined to scoff at those numbers and say “this guy didn’t know how to network/interview/sell himself, etc.”
You would be wrong.
I see it a lot. Don was experiencing a malady common to seasoned execs at that age and salary threshold.
Don shared that the many, many hours, days, weeks, months of applying for jobs, interviews and receiving rejections really worked on his psyche, kicked his tendency to worry into high gear and brought him to lows he had never experienced. These were the hardest and darkest months of his life.
His wife, Diana, became concerned that there was no joy in his life – this is a man with deep faith.
And then Montrose happened!
For you flatlanders and non-U.S. readers, Montrose is this terrific town of 22,000 on the “western slope” of Colorado.
I know the town, having been there several times to visit the Montrose hospital, a client of mine. I have felt for years that Montrose is one of the best-kept secrets in Colorado. Surrounded by Colorado’s most beautiful mountains, an hour from Telluride skiing, fly-fishing in your backyard, several highly-rated golf courses in town or close by and just generally a clean and very friendly community.
A photo from Don and Diana’s backyard
I was shocked three years ago to learn that Don had applied for and accepted a position as the Information Technology Director for Montrose County, a county with fewer people than the Denver suburb he and his wife, Diana, had left.
Right in his technology sweet spot; not exactly a resume enhancer (culturally speaking, of course).
He seemed happy when I contacted him a year or so into the job. When I reached out to him again just this month, that “happy” had evolved to “ecstatic”.
That “ecstatic” might be hard for most of us to comprehend because the job involved a 75% salary cut and a “downgrade” to a relatively “plain Jane” title (culturally speaking, of course).
The huge salary cut, fortunately, still left them at a salary that supports a comfortable lifestyle in this smaller, less expensive community.
A powerful “second half” story
Don and Diana’s story has “feel good” throughout.
Retirement? Maybe, maybe not.
I asked Don what their views were about retirement. He emailed his response from Denver prior to them boarding a flight to Maui.
Not surprisingly, their views of “retirement” have changed since Montrose happened. Years ago, he and Diana (a breast cancer survivor) had planned to retire at 65 and stayed committed to that goal financially. It’s interesting to note that were they to retire at 65, they could do so at a higher monthly income than what they have now, even planning in healthcare costs.
But it doesn’t sound like it’s going to happen that way. I’ll let Don’s own words sum it up:
“Given our current situation, where we live, how much I enjoy what I do and the ability we have to contribute to our community, both through my job and through our volunteering at various organizations, I intend to continue to work for as long as I feel I am making a significant contribution to the County. I love working for the County and making a significant difference both within my official job responsibilities, but also just with my involvement with all aspects of County Government. As long as I can add significant value, I intend to continue working. My job responsibilities may expand beyond IT over the next year or so which excites me greatly as well. You know what they say, “When you love what you do, you never have to work a day in your life’. That’s me right now.”
Montrose gained. The Vareys gained by setting aside cultural expectations, comparisons, competition and are proving that mental, physical and spiritual health blossom when a servant’s mindset takes hold. Shoulda, woulda, coulda disappears. Life takes on a daily meaning, lives are touched and transformed and second-half wisdom takes root.
The impact of being an outlier is once again confirmed.
And a community and a family get better.
The Importance of Work in Retirement – A Video
Reid Stone is a friend and fellow retirement coach. He extended me the honor of inviting me to be the first guest on his newly launched podcast at his home base website www.mylifesencore.com.
Click here to go to the page on his site to view the 23-minute video interview.
We chose to talk about the importance of work in retirement.
In addition to the video, Reid has also provided a transcript of our conversation.
Hope you enjoy and benefit. Leave me your comments below
Does Your Life-planning Go Beyond the Actuarial Tables? It should.
In my multiple roles as recruiter, retirement coach, and career transition specialist, I have the good fortune to talk with some amazing, talented and successful people who have entered into their “third age” of life. That’s the new extended and unchartered territory between the end of mid-career jobs and parenting duties and the beginning of dependent old age.
I often ask the question: “How long do you expect to live?”
Typical answers are – –
A few – very few – will volunteer an actual number.
One exception surfaced recently when I spoke with a 53-year-old business exec who is unwavering in predicting her ultimate demise (as in, dead) at or around 75 because of a collection of infirmities that have beset her immediate family, past and present – cancer, dementia to name the most common. She has set a firm “full retirement” age of 65 so she can prepare for the 10-year downward slide that she feels is inevitable.
As usual, being the hammer that I am and with her innocently becoming an unsuspecting nail, I opposed her position by burying her in stats, facts, positive self-help clichés and – well, were you to hear a recording of the one-way exchange, you would appreciate why it’s unlikely she and I will have a further conversation. She was gracious enough to sign off the conversation with a pleasant “so nice to meet you, Gary. Hope you have a good weekend.”
This was on a Tuesday.
It’s a stylistic blind-spot that I’ve been unable to shake, to which my grown children will gladly attest. In their 40’s, they still can sense when another “dad lecture” is about to emerge and they remain skilled in evasion tactics.
They’ve turned out pretty darn good without having to experience the pile of pontifications poised for presentation in that crowded section of my mental hard-drive.
But, I remain undeterred in my belief that the self-fulfilling prophecy still has substance. We can think our way into almost anything, including an early demise.
Or not.
The field of biocognition, i.e. the mind and body communicating with each other, is teaching us that when we believe something our biology will comply.
So I guess if I choose to buy into the myth that my DNA is my destiny or if I accept that 80 is about the average age that I should expect to live to, well I subconsciously and subtly start paving the road to that end.
My daily life could get pretty miserable if I bought into only living to the average male life-span in the U.S. which is – yikes – going backward and now is 78.69 years.
Since I just hit double-seven last month, I’m in fret-and-worry, end-of-life-planning territory if I let the averages guide my thinking. I should be buying a cemetery plot since that’s sort of expected of my demographic. But I’m not buying because several grand for a box and the culturally-infused ritual and “celebration” that I can’t attend just doesn’t compute for me.
My progeny have done well enough to pay to convert me to an urn of ashes. And I’m sure they’ll agree to spread the results, without fanfare, in the Colorado River in the riffled-run 50 feet below the bridge over the at Ouray Ranch in Grand County, CO. That stretch has gifted me with a number of 20” rainbow trout over the years.
So, unlike the aforementioned exec, I choose to be an outlier. I stay camped on my goal to make 112.5 as the number for the end of my dependent old age. And, my dependent-old-age period – the morbidity stage – is to be two weeks or less. Or, ideally, non-existent as in face-down in the previously referenced stretch of the Colorado River having fooled another of those 20” rainbows.
Oh, I get it – there may be a truck out there on the interstate with my number on it that could make this my last blog. Or some critical organ cells could decide to go rogue. But what good is there in that visualization?
I believe my biology is following my beliefs.
So, with total deference to all the actuaries in the world (aren’t you glad somebody likes and wants that job?), I’m ignoring their rear-view mirror research and going the outlier route. I’m out to bend that average life span back up but I need companions to make that happen. See my earlier appeal here.
Maybe you are up for it – maybe not. Maybe it’s easier to accept actuarial fate and have your mind help your body check out earlier than necessary. But maybe you accept the validity of a biocognitive relationship that is the on-ramp to becoming a longevity outlier and feeling good enough to enjoy it.
It’s a choice. There are very few things in life that we have full control over. Our thinking is one of those. Any of us can be rebels with a worthy cause that question and challenge the culturally-imposed portals that determine the way to transition through life.
We have the option to step out of that collective reality and make the actuaries look silly. I suspect they wouldn’t mind.
The Case for Not Overusing Our Cheeks.
“Sitting for More Than 13 Hours a Day May Sabotage the Benefits of Exercise”
I really didn’t need to see this headline! Thanks, New York Times, for this ugly reminder.
Then there was this sub-title in the article:
People who sat for long periods and took fewer than 4,000 steps a day developed metabolic problems, even if they exercised.
I took a quick glance at my Fitbit. It’s 6:30 a.m. and I’ve been on my arse in my office chair now for just short of two hours and amassed a whopping 417 steps (that’s a trip to the driveway for the morning paper, two to the coffee pot and one to the john because of the coffee).
This was not a great way to start my day!
Yeah, the mantra has been around for a while now: “Sitting is the new smoking!” Now, this!
Can’t we find something for all these research scientists to do other than to run around revealing the truth about how this transport system/body works?
I’m an ex-smoker. It was a b***h to quit (June 6, 1979). I’m thinking this sitting thing might be as tough but in a different way. I’m not so much addicted to sitting. It’s just that I’ve got this keyboard-monitor combination thing going that seems to work best from a right angle posture. Yeah, I know all about the stand-up desk. No, I have not bought in. They seem clumsy and you’re still not moving.
The discouraging part of all this, for me personally, is that I work pretty hard at hitting at least 60,000 steps a week, with Sunday a sort of non-exercise/recovery day. But most of every day I’m in my Office Depot faux-leather chair deteriorating my retinas before two large monitors pretending to make my wife wealthy (on that front, I’m a skilled imposter).
I usually hit my 60,000 steps by lumping it all into daily exercise sessions made up of a revolving combination of elliptical, upright bike, treadmill and some pretty serious weight-lifting. (I can’t run – no knee cap cartilage because of 17 years of pickup basketball). I try to hit 10,000+ on Monday, Wednesday and Saturday and 7-8,000 on Tuesday, Thursday, Friday. An active Sunday- not common – can take the pressure off the rest of the week.
Now they’re saying that my yeoman exercise effort is farshtunken (Google it).
I’ve averaged 59,905 steps/week over the last 50 weeks. My biggest week: 72,219. My lowest week: 45,546. That’s 2,995,265 steps.
It makes me tired just typing that in.
Starting this article incented me to waste some valuable time to determine how I’ve done against my step goal over the last year. Yes, I confess that my quirkiness includes foldering my Fitbit weekly reports since 2014 and being weird enough to take the time to calculate this average for your consumption (do you begin to understand how I’m falling short of making my wife wealthy?)
So, if this latest research report is valid, then I’m maybe neutral at best on the health front with my oneness with my chair-keyboard-monitor combo.
My Fitbit Charge 2 lives up to its product pitch – it vibrates every so often and a little figure dances across the screen and reminds me to get up and accumulate 250 steps. Unfortunately, I treat it the same way I do the flood of offshore solicitation/scam calls that hit my office phone – as an aggravating interruption.
I look at the little dancing figure and tell it to take a hike itself rather than get in my grill.
Maybe if we FTM (follow-the-money) on this research project we’ll discover Fitbit financed it. I’m pretty much that trusting of a lot of studies.
But something tells me this one is more legit than most of us chair-huggers and lazyboy-lovers really want to accept.
I’m getting off my butt!
So, here it is: a publicly-stated commitment for which I will expect you to hold me accountable. I’m taking little dancing Fitbit figure seriously. I’m getting up and doing something when he/she/it vibrates me. I’m going to figure out a half-dozen or so 250-step round trips I can take from my chair/keyboard/monitor anchor.
It’s going to have to be quite a change in routine. My usual trips each day are to the bathroom (28 steps, round-trip) and to the refrigerator (52 round trip). One is optional, one isn’t. Combined they fall seriously short of the 250-step Fitbit dancing-irritator goal.
On top of the sitting-is-killing-you warning, I’m reminded that I’m amongst the many on the planet who have a Vitamin D deficiency because I don’t experience much sunlight. Apparently, the 200-watt incandescent in my desk lamp and the constant monitor glow aren’t good substitutes.
So, like so many other things that we can do that we don’t that can positively affect our health, this one is also simple (see below) – but a bit difficult because it calls for – egad – a habit change. I don’t like all my habits but I dislike change more so they stay put.
This one is going to change – and I have your commitment to hold me accountable, right?
Here it is in its simplicity:
There that’s pretty simple, right? Not an overwhelming stretch to add an important health habit.
We all have plenty of unhealthy habits. I’m betting that many of them are no more complicated to reverse than this sitting habit. What are yours that you could reverse? Can you commit to a simple plan to replace an unhealthy habit – and find an accountability partner to help you stay on track? This isn’t, as they say, rocket science.
I’ll wrap with an example. I have a friend in Toastmasters who recently “confessed” to me and a fellow Toastmaster and health advocate following my speech on “compressing morbidity” and “avoiding frailty” that he has a serious addiction to Diet Pepsi – to the tune of a 12-pack a day (yes, you read that right). He committed to gradually work his way off of this habit, and, three weeks later, is down to two cans per week. His drink of choice is now becoming unsweetened tea.
He acknowledged his habit, committed publicly to changing it and uses both of his witnessing Toastmaster friends as his accountability partners. His enthusiasm about this new lifestyle change is palpable. And, serendipitously, his wife, who is dealing with her own set of unhealthy habits and has been very resistant to changing any of them, is now getting in step with his lifestyle change.
Consider the simplicity of what he is doing but be inspired by the difficulty of his transformation. His motivation? A new awareness of the downside of his habits by becoming more knowledgeable and seeing – and feeling – the upside of what his life can become with the habit change.
It’s a track any of us can follow.
Why Centenarians Don’t Rely on Doctors.
Photo by Martin Brosy on Unsplash
I did an 18-minute speech recently at my Toastmasters club – the last of 40 “formal” speeches that I’m required to give on my quest to achieve the top Toastmasters achievement tier, Distinguished Toastmaster.
I estimate I’ve delivered half again as many “informal” speeches at the club so I’m probably 60-70 speeches into it since I joined Toastmasters six years ago just because I want to continue to refine the craft and because, well – I admit – the strokes prop up my fragile ego. And Toastmasters clubs are great at delivering positive strokes, even when you muck up a good topic, which I do regularly. It’s a beautiful learning and confidence-building environment.
End of commercial.
My speech was about “compression of morbidity” and “frailty avoidance” – probably a real yawner to any other type of gathering. They all seemed to like it, most likely because they all like me (it’s a Toastmaster trait – they overlook personality deficiencies) and because it was my 77th birthday. There was probably a touch of sympathy factor there as well.
I used my dad’s extended morbidity chronology as the launch of the speech. It goes like this:
Webster defines morbidity as diseased, sickly, grisly, gruesome. That pretty well described my dad’s final years.
On a simple graph, Dad’s morbidity looked something like this:
The point of the speech was that our incredible advances in medical and scientific technology haven’t done much to compress this morbidity stretch in our culture. We are still good at “living short and dying long.” We’ve gotten pretty good at adding years to our lives but not at adding life to our years. So we continue to maintain a life curve that bends like this:
I shared my own planned morbidity curve with the group.
Expecting gasps, I got muted guffaws – I believe my fellow TMer’s are tiring of my “I’m living to 112.5” mantra.
But I forged on, undeterred because it’s the Toastmaster way – finish, no matter how bad it is.
I’ll condense the 18-minutes to this: bad lifestyle choices lead to insidious morbidity which leads to frailty which leads to death.
I think that would pass a medical scientist’s review for accuracy.
Pretty simple. We start at zero with a full arsenal of cellular-based weapons called an immune system and we proceed to make it difficult for it to do its job.
I’ll paraphrase neuropsychologist Dr. Mario Martinez: we inherit our health; our culture teaches us to be sick.
Dad didn’t know much about all this. He grew up when we knew little about how our biology works. He ate 3-4 eggs for breakfast most of his life; meat and potatoes were standard fare; athletes and actors, dentist and doctors advocated for cigarettes and babies were used to market them (he smoked for 40 years); exercise was whatever physical exertion happened at work.
His extended morbidity was pretty much a given from the start.
So what does this all have to do with centenarians not relying on doctors?
Based on research of healthy centenarians across a multitude of cultures, one of the consistent traits amongst them was that of an “outlier” attitude. They tend to defy the expectations of culturally-defined life segments or portals (e.g middle-age, old-age). They don’t succumb to the admonishment that accompanies the failure to comply or fit into the boundaries of a cultural portal.
Wrinkled rebels, with a worthy cause – live long, die short.
Somewhere along the way, they realized that their biology can be adversely affected by the cultural labels and traditions that they lay on it. For instance, they understand that if you believe you are too old for something, your biology will comply.
In the words of Dr. Martinez, they become “worthy outliers” and enter into “centenarian consciousness: an opportunity to live the causes of healthy longevity.”
So, it follows that a “worthy outlier” with a “centenarian consciousness” is not going to be beholden to a doc that thinks in portals (e.g. “you’re too old for that” or “what do you expect at your age?”) and practices only traditional medicine, rather than mind/body medicine. Healthy centenarians seem to realize that they are more than just the sum of their body parts and that their mind impacts those body parts.
Resilience prevails
Another trait of healthy centenarians is their ability to not only overcome trauma and travails but actually thrive and find gratitude in the midst of adversity and expect a better future following it.
Again, in the words of Dr. Martinez: “Despite the initial physical and emotional pain of trauma, they maintain a sense of humor and hope for recovery. More important, their positive expectations enable them to learn from the negative experience.”
I take from all this that being a “cultural outlier” with a “centenarian consciousness” can position us to compress our morbidity, delay our terminal frailty and thus live a longer, healthier and happier life while saving our society billions in late-life healthcare costs.
The tough part is to shake off the cultural expectations and be an outlier. It takes some thick skin and a strong self-image.
Dad knew nothing about all this cultural portal stuff – it preceded him. His morbidity started at 59 and grew insidiously for 22 years – not an uncommon timeline in our society despite medical advances. He wasn’t destined to be a healthy centenarian – few from his generation were.
But we’re smarter now. At least book smarter. We know all that we need to know to be healthier and live longer. Yet we don’t act that out. Our average longevity is now starting to recede after a century of meteoric acceleration and the five major killers continue to hold their position despite us knowing they are all largely preventable.
Perhaps it’s going to take the “centenarian outlier attitude and consciousness” to turn the tide. There was a time we paid attention to the wisdom of our elders.
Maybe now would be a good time to be an outlier and listen to the outliers.
Keep Working? Or Retire? Consider the Middle Road.
Photo by Jonas Jacobsson on Unsplash
Where in the handbook of life (you have one, don’t you?) does it say that career and work have to end by a certain age?
If you do find your handbook, dust it off and look at the publish date. If your copy is an heirloom from pre-FDR (and the old, non-green New Deal), there isn’t likely to be much said about not working. The authors from that time pretty much worked until they couldn’t.
In fact, 150 years ago retirement was virtually non-existent.
I grew up in rural, agricultural Wyoming where, for most, retirement started a couple of days before the embalming. My uncles died farming until they couldn’t, physically. My dad worked until he couldn’t, physically. That was a big part of the life handbook in my early world.
If you just dusted off a 2.0 version of the life handbook, you’ll find a hard 90-degree turn happened along the way between versions. You’re not supposed to work after – well, it’s a moving target. Thanks to FDR and his corporate and union cronies, age 65 remains the number embedded in most heads. But it shifts around. Some like 59, some like 62. There’s even a F-I-R-E (Financial Independence, Retire Early) movement, popular among millennials, that has participants staking claims for retirement before 40.
Well, I had a conversation this week with a gentleman who had just experienced an unplanned career inflection point that is happening to a lot of folks these days.
A 68 ½-year-old senior exec in supply chain management, he was unceremoniously terminated via telephone with two hours notice – totally blindsided following fourteen years of exemplary performance as a Senior VP with nary a nick on his performance reviews.
You’ve heard the drill: your “position has been eliminated” as part of a restructuring.
He didn’t buy it and later confirmed his suspicion that his job was still there but now filled with a younger, less expensive understudy.
Well, Frank (not his real name) is in the second of the four stages any of us would go through dealing with this sort of ego-altering groin kick:
Frank skipped panic, which is understandable in his case. He proudly informed me that he had exceeded his goal of seven figures in retirement funds several years prior. Plus, he and his wife are debt free, no mortgage, kids launched. His wife (we’ll call her Sara) still works 50+ hours a week in a management role in (I’m not kidding) supply-chain/materials management. (Can you imagine the mealtime conversations? Do you see possibilities for “seizing opportunity” here?)
But Frank has a decades-long fixation on working until he is seventy. He admits to being a bit anal about it and it still angers him up – how dare his employer ignore this and kick him out 18 months short of his goal?
It didn’t help that, just prior to this happening, he had two experiences that had him questioning the wisdom of not working.
One was his fiftieth high-school reunion where he observed once-vibrant classmates expressing boredom in retirement and sporting 50” waistlines.
The other, his neighbor, who retired at 59 and is relentless in reminding Frank that he is beyond retirement age and should be taking it easy while admitting that his days are pretty much made up of caring for his lawn – and who-knows-what in the winter.
Frank’s self-inflicted dilemma is simple. He wants to re-enter the job market so he can hit his work-until-retirement goal of 70.
LOL!
Before I stick too hard to my guns, let me do a quick poll – is there an executive out there that could use a $200,000/year, 69-year old materials management exec full-time for 18 months?
I thought so – crickets!!
So, it’s fork-in-the-road-decision-time for Frank: work – no work.
But wait. Is there a middle-road?
Another senior exec was just referred to me who I noticed had just changed his LinkedIn profile title to “semi-retired”.
I’m anxious for that conversation because that is a middle-road concept that makes sense.
How about that idea, Frank?
I suggested to Frank that maybe he should give some thought to a “lifetime, lifestyle business” where he could take his exceptional experience and skill set and put it to work doing:
What he wants to do
When he wants to do it
Where he wants to do it
I took it a step further and told him I could envision “Frank and Sara Supply Chain Management Consulting, LLC”. Charge a boatload for it, do it when you feel like it for clients that you like, and pick clients at sites that you’d like to visit (i.e. work/vacation combo).
There was extended silence on the other end.
I have a hunch that our next conversation, if we have one, may have a different tone to it.
I’ll stick my neck out and say that, especially amongst the Boomers, that semi-retirement or unretirement will soon become the new prestige.
It’s an unfortunate reality that re-entering the job market post-60 in a self-directed job search is very difficult. There’s a general guideline that career coaches and experienced recruiters will invoke when counseling a job seeker in that age range: plan on one month for every $10k in salary to secure your next position if conducting your own, self-directed search.
That’s a pretty freaky thought for a $300,000/year exec. It’s even freakier for a stay-at-home spouse/partner who would have to tolerate guaranteed mood swings and confidence lapses.
Working with a qualified career transition coaching organization can significantly reduce that span and smooth out the emotional swings.
Ageism, as blatantly demonstrated in Frank’s case, is rampant.
If there is a positive impact of ageism, it would be that it shakes loose the rigid thinking that says end-of-work is expected and entitled and that one is a defective anomaly if they don’t stop working by a certain age.
I’ll wrap by borrowing from my 12/18/17 post “Work Yourself to Death? Not a bad idea!”
It’s a critical fork-in-the-road time of life. One road gives in to the “social self” that has indoctrinated us into an artificial age-related culture and encourages us to remain a part of the crowd and stay-the-course to a landing called retirement.
The other road acknowledges a long-suppressed “essential self” that is insensitive to age and puts us on a trail that can enable a new takeoff (semi-retirement?) rather than a landing. Only this time the takeoff is launched through a re-discovery and resurrection of our deepest dreams and desires but applied using our deepest talents and acquired skills.
Warning!
The second fork may mean you will, willingly, work yourself to (until) death.
Second warning!
You may:
I’m betting on Frank to take the second – or middle – road.