I called a retired friend to see what he had planned for the day. His reply startled me.
“Nothing. Just watching paint dry,” he said. “Same as yesterday. I used to juggle work, family, and civic responsibilities. I’d plan my day the night before and rush to get everything done. Now, I get up and wonder how I’m going to fill my day. ”
Sometimes, it’s not so much that we slow down as we age, but that everything else slows down around us. There are fewer demands, less to do, no real obligations like going to work or keeping a schedule. There’s no requirement to do things. In retirement, without a deliberate agenda, it’s easy to let the world pass by. After all, who is going to notice if we don’t show up?
As I neared retirement, my wife was worried. “You are a workaholic,” she said to me one day. “You need something to do. What’s going to happen when no one is calling you on the phone, when there’s no meetings to attend, and no decisions that must be made?”
She was right. After retiring, initially I was lost. I had ideas, projects, things I wanted to do, but no one was interested in having me do them. Somehow, what I had to say no longer seemed very important. I was beyond my “Sell by date,” it seemed.
Like other retirees, I turned to the “boob tube.” Television remains the dominant leisure activity for retirees. People age 65 to 74 watch an average of 3.82 hours of TV each weekday and 4.48 hours per day on weekends. Older retirees watch even more.
But I could only watch the news and game shows for so long without feeling like I was wasting my time. So, I asked friends who had been retired for a few years what they did.
I got a very mixed reply.
“I volunteer just to keep my mind active,” one said. “But somehow, volunteers’ advice doesn’t seem to count for much. If it’s free advice, it doesn’t matter how good it is. It is still undervalued.”
“I volunteer, too,” a retired CPA told me. “I now do things for free that I used to get paid for,” he said ruefully.
What about hobbies, I asked several friends. We have them, they all said. They are a welcome diversion, but only for so long each week. They all agreed they wanted to do something more, something meaningful, something that mattered.
To matter, people must feel genuinely respected — appreciated, acknowledged, admired — by others as well as feel like they contribute in ways that make them feel capable, important and trusted, says Isaac Prilleltensky, a professor at the University of Miami and a co-author of “How People Matter.” It’s a two-factor personal assessment: feeling valued and adding value.
In my own situation, I relocated not long after retiring. Needing to make new friends and find new things to do, I looked around for a project I could start or an activity I could participate in that would be meaningful to me and others.
I started substitute teaching at several local high schools. While doing so, I became interested in local wildflowers. I’m not a scientist or environmentalist, so I had a lot to learn. Eventually, with the support of the Bureau of Land Management in St. George and Jacqualine Grant, a biology professor at Southern Utah University, I organized a group of students to plant indigenous wildflowers. These particular wildflowers could act as firebreaks in minimizing wildfires if they occurred in an area.
These activities were unlike anything I had ever done before, but the time spent learning, presenting, coordinating, and putting my good intentions into action was enormously fulfilling.
Jennie Barrnett has found her own unique way of mattering that includes her neighbors and friends. Starting over 3 years ago, she began going to Costco every morning as soon as it opened, looking for bargains. She mentioned this daily practice to a few neighbors. Some asked her to let them know when she found various deals. She created a text list and soon learned individually who liked what kinds of food products and clothing items.
At times, Jennie has bought for as many as 25 other Costco members but tends to average in the 10-12 person range, she says. When she finds something marked down, she lets those on her text chain know about it. If interested, she buys it for them, and they settle up later.
“I don’t charge anyone; I like doing it. I’m not really shopping because I walk briskly down each aisle. I’m exercising while hunting for deals,” she says.
Because she is there every day when the store opens, employees know her, too. A few weeks ago, when her husband had doctors’ appointments three mornings in a row, she didn’t make it in at all. Then, she had an unexpected call.
“Is this Jennie Barrnett?” the voice on the other end of the phone said.
“Yes,” she replied. “Who is this?”
“I’m an assistant manager at Costco,” the person said. “We haven’t seen you in three days. We are worried. Is everything okay?”
Chuckling, Jennie explained she was fine but had other appointments for her husband the past few days. Relieved, the manager said she was glad everything was okay.
Jennie had been missed. It mattered to them.
Mattering matters. With changing roles — no longer involved in child-rearing or earning a living — older people may feel like they don’t matter. They can feel like has beens, over the hill, or put out to pasture.
I asked Julie Beck, a prominent, former civic leader who no longer has any major public responsibilities, what she would recommend to someone who felt put out to pasture.
“Jump the fence,” she said. Find things that matter to you and do them. Don’t wait to be asked, that may never happen again. Instead, jump the fence and stake your claim.
Good advice. It matters.