Today is my 68th birthday. Thank you, in advance, for all the birthday (and belated birthday) wishes that statement will generate. But birthday wishes are not my purpose here. What I really want to do is tell the story of why I’m starting this blog.
The day of a birthday marks the END of how many years a person’s existed above the grass. It’s a little confusing, but actually, on my upcoming 70th birthday (2 years from now), for example, I’m actually BEGINNING my 8th decade on earth. So really, I think of an ending in most cases also as a beginning.
Which begs the question…when the hell did that happen? But that, my friends, is a subject for another day.
Retirement is an ending like that. Sometimes it happens on a specific day. You’re 65th birthday rolls around, you wake up that morning and no longer have to go to a J.O.B. Often, though, you pick a retirement date and it simply marks the beginning of the end. You start winding down your obligations to the entity that’s been giving you money to maintain the life you’ve fashioned for yourself. Retirement planning should be a huge thing, beginning many years from actual retirement, primarily so there’s enough money to maintain the life you’ve fashioned or envision for yourself.
I had a countdown calendar to retirement for the last five years of my J.O.B. Now, for the record (and possibly future posts) my last J.O.B. was wonderful. But as I’ve always said, “I love to work, I just don’t like GOING to work.” We planned the money thing and I was fairly certain we’d be ok financially. We have enough. Having enough is also a topic for another day.
What I thought about a lot during those last five years is what our lives would actually look like after retirement. What new beginnings were starting? What purpose would I have to get up in the mornings? How would I continue to feel needed? How would I give back to the society that’s given me so much? What value could I add to the people and situations in my day-to-day existence? How could I pass on what I’ve learned along the way? Would anyone really care? Because Randy and I had chosen not to have children, what legacy might we leave? Did leaving a legacy even matter to me?
It’s coming up on nearly two years since I started to wind down my J.O.B. obligations. Our daily lives are totally different than I imagined because, in my wildest dreams, I wanted to live where I could go to the beach every day. And just less than a year ago my wildest dreams came true. Also another story for another day.
This blog is the result of a lot of thinking about the questions above, and the happy discovery of WIX one morning (another story, another day). 68 and Counting will explore my journey, and, I hope, yours, of the beginnings and opportunities created by the end of a J.O.B. Your age doesn’t matter. Those of you still looking down the tunnel to The End are welcome to join us too, to plan, to dream, and to enjoy all of your journey.
Join me, won’t you? If you have a story, let me know. I don’t want 68 and Counting to just be MY stories. We all have stories. Some of them are so interesting, so helpful, so valuable, so joy inducing, so laugh provoking, so gratitude infused, so important, that they should be told. Let’s do that together.
Thank you for meeting me here. I hope we’ll be friends for a long time.
P.S. Let’s collaborate and come up with a phrase that represents the meaning of J.O.B. Something like Jaunty Oboe Blower, or Joint Of Baloney. Both, of course, are inane, and presented for illustrative purposes so you know what I’m going after. Be creative! I’ll send the winner a $50 gift card.
P.P.S. My goal is to personally post here at least once a week. If you all start contributing stories we’ll have lots more content and far more opportunity for interaction. I always wanted “peeps.” We can be each other’s peeps!
P.P.P.S. You get a gold star if you know what P.S., P.P.S., and P.P.P.S. mean. I know one former parliamentarian who absolutely will know. Are you out there?
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