John F. Kennedy – President of the U.S. of A.

People usually have “I know where I was when that happened” moments. For example, I was in Mr. Pipe’s grade 12 chemistry class on Friday November 22, 1963 when it was announced that J.F.K. was assassinated. (Mr. Pipe resembled a popular Popeye cartoon character, Wimpy, who loved hamburgers). V. P. Wally Ward, known for his bow-ties, interrupted classes to make an announcement. I thought that since exams were pending it would be one of those study pep talks that we used to hear followed by “good luck.”  Was I wrong.

When he announced that U.S. President John F. Kennedy had been shot at Dallas airport I immediately thought “Mr. Ward’s usual attempt at humour just crossed the line.” That was not funny. (One week earlier my dad had been at that very same airport on a business trip.)

BUT – he wasn’t joking of course and instead of studying for exams we were glued to our black & white television sets that weekend. And, except for those gifted intellects, we paid the academic price.

The first day of my official retirement was similar. The Resident Wife called that I might want to see what is on television and I walked from blissful ignorance into “9/11”.  And so when people ask me when I retired I have no trouble recalling the date.

Rule #1. When contemplating retirement have something to do. Have a plan and then execute the plan. As one retired bank teller put it – “Sitting by the dock of the bay was grand for a few months.” She is now back at work part time.

A good friend sent out a photo of his first day of retirement which co-incided with the spring opening of the wild turkey season. He had bagged a tom turkey. He has since returned to working part-time.

These thoughts were inspired when a friend, not retired, sent me a photo. On April 7, 2019, he had gone ice fishing. Of course he wasn’t fishing for ice but for brook trout. His ice auger had to dig so deep that the head was partially buried in the hole before he broke through. On April 7! The fine looking brookies that accompanied his photos made me envious. It was his question that triggered these thoughts. Did I get out ice fishing?

Well – no. Although retired it sounded so lame to respond – “no time.”

Really?

Well life has a way of complicating plans.  As in Robert Burns’ poem To a Mouse – “The best–laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” No matter how carefully a project is planned, something may still go wrong with it. Remember Murphy? Of course it beats being a couch potatoe.

Some take to the links chasing golf balls. One friend, at least the last time I saw him, was doing so daily. He had suffered serious health complications and this was part of his recovery plan. Which seemed to be working. Perhaps I could caddy?

Well, no. Can’t do that. The golf course rules stipulate that you must pay to do the rounds. As a kid we could earn some spending money at the local private golf course by caddying. Now you have to pay to caddy. Plus, most people rent golf carts. But I would have to pay to chauffeur the golfer around and most like to do their own driving.

The last time I “golfed” I lost my wrist watch somewhere on the course and haven’t worn one since. And I lost my desire for a leisurely outting. As it turned out there was a special activity that day for beluga whales. I walked and carried my own clubs. The whales drove carts. And were forever exhorting me “to hurry up!” I felt like suggesting that they would benefit from a little walking exercise or words to that effect but bit my tongue. Since then I have not set foot on a golf course. As Mark Twain allegedly said, “Golf is a good walk spoiled.” As well, apparently, “It’s good sportsmanship to not pick up lost golf balls while they are still rolling.”  In 1905 he is quoted in Strand magazine with the following:

“I’ve been studying the game of golf pretty considerably. I guess I understand now how it’s played. It’s this way. You take a small ball into a big field and try to hit it — the ball, not the field. At the first attempt, you hit the field and not the ball. After that, you probably hit the air or else the boy who is carrying your bag of utensils. When you’ve gone on long enough, you possibly succeed in obtaining your original object. If the boy’s alive, you send him off to look for the ball. If he finds it the same day, you’ve won the game.”

One favourable memory from the golfing world involved making a shot not likely to be copied. I was by the edge of a creek, “addressing the ball”, and took a swing whereupon my ever observant companions fell to the earth in spasms of hilarity. Some thought they were going to die from laughter.

Apparently I had hit the ball – no mean feat in itself – but instead of flying in the desired direction I had apparently hit reverse and the ball’s trajectory was directly behind me, not forward. Fortunately noone was standing behind me.

Mind you The Resident Wife and I like to watch golf, especially The Masters. It’s quiet, the commentators usually excellent and we see, and learn, how the game is meant to be played. It’s also a form of escapism. Within the comforts of our warm home we see the promise of warm weather while outside it is snowing.

Deer camp is always a highlight magically, psychologically and socially transforming those dreary days of November. It’s a time of renewing friendships and “catching up” for those of us not wired into social media. I’m more of a semi-Luddite. Days of hiking through the bush immersed within nature’s energy field; quiet times of meditation and reflection and sometimes harvesting venison for the coming months. Hunters and gatherers. Evenings spent in quiet conversation, no news, wonderful meals prepared by our camp’s hunter/chef. The Resident Wife once proposed to him before a crowded camp during one of his famous dinners. Time spent co-operatively processing and packaging game. In short a restful, reflective and peaceful time in harmony with nature. Not the stereotypical image of the hard drinking, beer swilling card playing deer camps so often portrayed which has never been my experience.

As an aside, while looking at the ice fishing pictures of April 7 I came upon photos of my son swimming in Mink Lake on April 3, 2003. This year, as I write this on the Ides of April, one would require snow shoes and an ice breaker to access the lake.   

At this moment I could resolve to go ice fishing next winter but resolutions are made to be broken. So why bother? Bottom line–if you are planning to retire remember Rule #1; and then prepare to let Life rule the way. It’s like a teacher’s lesson plan. If a teachable moment comes along run with it. If not, follow your lesson plan.

Perhaps next winter I’ll plan on some ice fishing trips. Then again maybe I’ll just retire from retirement.