True story: An elderly woman in a memory care facility met another resident at lunch. She, frustrated from severe hearing loss, found the man’s booming voice reassuring. Lacking short-term memories, they jabbered in circles for hours, recounting tales of their youth. The staff called them “The Loopers” because they replayed the same stories day after day.
They were gloriously happy. Aging affects each of us differently, but we all deserve the right to happiness. I’ve been retired for three years now. Year Three, I’m pleased to announce, turned out to be the best year yet, packed with insights about life, happiness, and of course, sadness.
Year One felt like a Geezers-Gone-Wild vacation, a funhouse of dazzling opportunities raging for my attention. I squeezed every activity and exploration into my days and flopped into bed every night, dead as a zombie.
In Year Two, reality came to visit. I grudgingly acknowledged the limitations of finance, capabilities, responsibilities, and time. Life still glowed with a bright patina, but I took a breath and toned down the revelry a notch or two.
In my third year, I settled into a lively rhythm. Busyness marked my days but in a tidy, organized fashion. I learned what I liked, what I wanted, and how to prioritize my time for maximum happiness.
If you can master these three skills in retirement, you’re set for life:
1. Embrace mediocrity
I went to a tavern one day and set a challenge quarter on the pool table. I waited at the bar, watching, fidgeting, palms sweating. In college, I was quite a hustler, but I don’t play much anymore.
When my turn arrived, I racked the balls with confidence. Adam, my opponent broke, and my brain immediately mapped out the perfect table run. Then I missed my first shot.
Due to a lack of practice and one eye that doesn’t work quite right, I got slaughtered. But I enjoyed the hell out of it. I’ve realized (and accepted) that I no longer need to win to have fun.
You have no idea how hard it was for me to come to terms with the fact that I won’t be winning races, contests, and games anymore. Formerly a Type A competitive maniac, I now recognize I’ll never be the fastest, smartest, or best at anything again (not that I ever was, but I sure did try).
I’m happy to play for the pure joy of the game. It’s a liberating discovery. Less pressure and more fun. I wish I’d realized long ago that losing ain’t so bad.
2. Be happy for the right reasons
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In 1985 I financed a brand new top-of-the-line Toyota Supra. Fast and sexy, it costs twice as much as a more practical car. Why did I buy it? Because as a small business owner, I needed to project an image of success.
I learned the hard way that looking successful is a poor business strategy. My starling image became a financial nightmare and it took three years to dig out from under it.
“Things” are no longer the face of happiness. All that matters now is character and self-respect. In retirement, nobody cares about my car, clothes, or image. What I drive, what I wear, and where I live doesn’t matter to anybody I’d care to call a friend. All that matters now is character and self-respect.
If you’re nice, let’s hang out and have some fun. If not, we‘ll go our separate ways, no hard feelings. This simple philosophy for happiness is much better than when we sat in cubicles beside lunatics and bullies.
3. Pursue passion and the myth of meaning
On my way to town, I drive past a home with a beautiful yard. I frequently see the silver-haired owner tending to her meticulous forest of flowers. I smile each time I pass, in admiration of the effort she invests in her passion.
When she’s gone (I hope not for a very long time), her passion project will wither and die. Does that make it pointless? She’s not saving the world or curing cancer. Her name won’t appear in a list of the world’s most influential citizens. She’s just having fun, feeling good about herself, and brightening the day for people like me.
Happiness doesn’t hinge on some esoteric quest to save the world. It is as simple as doing something you enjoy. I hate the labels: “passion” and “meaning.” They imply some higher cause, a deep profundity that depresses us when we fall short, which we inevitably will.
Let’s not get tangled up in a race to fill our lives with more passion and meaning than the other guy. Let’s just enjoy ourselves… bring a smile to a stranger’s face… be proud to be creative, studious, emotional, generous, caring, or eloquent. Be good at it or bad at it. All that matters is your happiness because when you’re happy, people around you are too.
4. Manage your money
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“I have enough money to live comfortably and enjoy myself.” That’s a mantra I repeat often, and believe with all my heart. In retirement, we don’t work to earn an income, but we still need money to survive. How much do we need? Easy: We need exactly what we have.
Social Security, savings, IRAs, pensions, hobbies: these are our income sources in retirement. For the most part, that’s all you’re going to get. You could go back to work, but it’s hard to get a decent job when you’ve aged out of your profession. And who wants to work in retirement anyway?
I’ve accepted that I’ll never own a Ferrari or a personal jet. My truck runs well, I travel modestly, and do home improvements myself. I have adjusted my lifestyle to match my income, not the other way around.
Some experts say you’ll spend 10% to 30% less in retirement. Others say you’ll spend more in your early years and less as you age. I’m no expert, but I say, “You’ll spend what you can to live comfortably and enjoy yourself.” For some, that’s a lot. Others, not so much.
So, dust off the calculator, figure out what you can realistically afford, and adjust your life accordingly. Having confidence in yourself and your lifestyle is worth its weight in gold.
5. Beware the Grim Reaper
Sadly, retirement is not all coffee klatches and circus carnivals. Aging inevitably leads to death and disease.
This year I lost a mother-in-law, two friends, and countless friends-of-friends. Twice as many are coping with life-threatening diagnoses. My high school Facebook memorial page is filled with eulogies, tributes, and prayers.
In two years, I’ll attend my 50th reunion, and I dread conversations about the 15% to 20% of our classmates who passed away. I think about my death. Too often, probably.
Dwelling on death is a terrible way to spend time, so I’ve turned it into positive motivation to live better. I’m exercising more, eating better foods, and drinking less alcohol. Surprisingly, less junk food and booze make me happier. And with luck, an improved diet will postpone my appointment with The Reaper.
Just as important, I’ve learned to approach every day with the urgency of a going-out-of-business sale. “Do it now — you may never get another chance.” And, “Every day wasted is a day lost forever.”
That philosophy won’t work for everyone, but it does for me. I’m happy when I’m active, creating, exploring, and socializing.
6. Keep yourself busy
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On our way to a nearby town, my friend called into a work meeting as we drove. Listening like a spy, I admired their energy as they spoke of team goals, accomplishments, and opportunities. Behind the voices, though, I heard snark.
Three years out, I’ve finally shed the anger and frustration that permeated my work days. Dreaded Sundays now hold the same allure as every other day of the week.
Was it worth forty years of physical and mental toil to raise a family and retire comfortably? I’ll never know. I remember sitting in meetings, asking myself if what we were doing would ever really matter. Like a hamster in a wheel, I don’t think I made a meaningful difference to world commerce. But the family turned out quite well.
7. Accept gradual decline
Math has always come easy to me. One night, after dinner with friends, I calculated a tip in my head and the server stood over me, glowering. I looked again and I’d tipped 2% instead of 20%.
Entropy: a process of degradation trending to disorder
I scampered up a rockfall hiking last summer, slipped, and fell, severely damaging my ego. My eyes don’t work well, my feet hurt, and I can’t bend over … you know the story. Denial has served me well so far, but reality — and life’s inevitable conclusion — looms.
8. Realize that satisfaction outlives happiness and sadness
My ninety-five-year-old mother says she has no peers to reminisce with about shared life experiences. Age has stolen a piece of her heart, and if any of us are lucky to live as long as she has, we will lose a piece of our own as well.
Time chips away at the extremes, and one day we’ll find, like my mother has, that happiness and sadness have transformed into a state of comfortable satisfaction. Happiness is fleeting. Satisfaction lasts forever.
If I can retain dignity and sanity as I age, I’ll be satisfied. If I lose my mind, I hope to find peers with whom I can share stories. Like The Loopers — happy, satisfied, and loved.
Brian Feutz is an award-winning author, writer, speaker, and columnist who specializes in topics including retirement, humor, travel, technology, adventure, and fiction.
