Blog #10: Winter Solstice and Life-long Learning

BLOG #10: Winter Solstice and Life-long Learning

December 21, 2018, marks six months since I left full-time employment.

This year, December 21 also marks the winter solstice.

The winter solstice and life-long learning don’t have any direct links to retirement. However,  I find that now that my intellectual and physical energy aren’t tied up with paid work projects, I do have the energy to reflect on and chew on seemingly unrelated things and find surprising links.

WINTER SOLSTICE

Like all major life events, the six months since I left SAIT seem to have dragged themselves along while at the same time they have passed in the blink of an eye. I’m not sure how that happens. Scientists of various sorts will tell me that while what I feel is real,  time doesn’t work that way. (Dr. Who might say differently, of course.) All I know is that time has the ability to drag and zip by all at the same time.

When I was working, I found the time between October and February to be a real drag. This had nothing to do with the events embedded in the academic calendar and everything to do with the planet’s position in the heavens and its access to the sun. I was up at 05:30 (in the dark), leaving the house at 06:45 (in the dark), arriving at work around 07:15  (in the dark), and heading home any time after 17:30-ish (yes, in the dark). I was fortunate to have an office with a window so I did at least know that there was daylight. This year, of course, is different. I don’t have to get up at 05:30 

. . . I can roll over and get up at a more civilized hour, and the things normally relegated to the weekends can now be accomplished in regular daylight hours so somehow, when 05:30 or 17:30 rolls around, I don’t feel quite so hemmed in.

And I have to wonder if my increased outdoor time is contributing to increased production of vitamin D and that in turn is a contributing factor to my feeling so much better.

In my casual conversations with other retirees, one of the big benefits of retirement I hear over and over again is the benefit of being able to get up and get moving when one wants to.

LIFE-LONG LEARNING

The other day I was listening to Rosanna Deerchild’s CBE radio program Unreserved: https://www.cbc.ca/radio/unreserved. If you are not normally a listener, it’s worth considering adding this radio program to your usual listening. As I now spend a lot of time in the car to and from the barn, the radio has become my new best friend.

I love Ms. Deerchild’s approach to her program (about Indigenous life in Canada). The most recent program I listened to was about Indigenous folks learning their own languages again. Look for the CBC podcast called First Words: https://podcast-a.akamaihd.net/mp3/podcasts/unreserved-xqVQWqQm-20181219.mp3.

Canadians don’t need to be reminded that the residential school system and the sixties scope did their best to eradicate Indigenous languages in an effort to make Indigenous children more “Canadian.” So it takes courage and grit and determination to reclaim the right to language, to learn it,  and to own it.

If learning one’s original language isn’t an example of life-long learning then I don’t know what is.

This particular episode of Unreserved got me thinking about the nature of learning and, as always happens when one opens one’s mind to things, other examples and other questions pop up and demand to be addressed.

I’ve always been fascinated by the process of learning: why people learn, how they learn, how educators can help people learn. Undoubtedly this is why I made my way through my working life as a teacher and as a curriculum specialist. What I became more and more interested in, though, is why some folks are unable or unwilling to learn. There could have been a PhD thesis in that topic at some time in my past working life. Nevertheless, any conversation I have with myself about the process of learning has to include not only how to facilitate learning but why learning is so difficult for some folks.

And, . . . it’s not just the human species that has the capacity to learn or the struggle to learn.

We currently have (yet again) a rescue kitten who had a rough start to life and who is having to learn some of the social graces required to happily live with humans and other domestic kitties. The kitten, a lovely orange-on-orange stripped kitty, is like the class clown . . . teachers will recognize this kid . . . the one always doing something (generally good naturedly) to wiggle out of some situation he finds difficult or boring. That’s our Cheddar. Our other cats have taken it upon themselves to teach Cheddar how to behave as a cat. Supported by our household’s humans, Cheddar is slowly becoming a civilized critter and realizing that life is actually pretty good as a well-behaved critter. 

If that’s not life-long learning then I don’t know what is.

Houseguest Leonard working on Cheddar's manners

My horse, Hasty, is going to be 25 in the spring. Twenty-five  years old is getting up there in horse years. Hasty’s always been a very reactive horse: quick to spot potential danger, quick to worry about pretty much everything, quick to react when the pressure was more than he could cope with. Teaching Hasty that not everything in his world was a threat and that his rider could be relied upon to do her part to keep us safe has been a slow process over many years. As a result, I would never, ever have thought that Hasty would have become a “school” horse. 

Now school masters (and dude ranch horses) are worth their weight in gold. Ask any riding school owner/trainer or parent trusting their small child to a large equid. School horses tend not to be reactive, they tend to look out for their riders, they tend not commit to any action unless they are absolutely convinced that that’s what their rider/driver meant, and they tend to have the capacity to switch off and let the world flow around them. None of this is Hasty. Being a school horse would be very stressful for Hasty. 

Nevertheless, in David’s ongoing education as a horse owner, taking lessons on Hasty is teaching David about whispered aids. Riding a light and responsive horse was the next logical move. My teacher’s heart sang with joy as I watched horse and hubby figure out how to become a team, watched David learn how to work with a reactive horse, and watched Hasty learn that he could trust David as his new and occasional rider. 

It’s worth mentioning that while I am a horse woman of some 60 years, David (who has been involved in my horsey “doings” all our lives together as a couple) is not at all horsey. So you can imagine my surprise when, at the tender age of 58 he took up riding and at the tender age of 61 he decided to buy himself a horse! 

If that’s not life-long learning then I don’t know what is.

Hasty chillin' out in the field this summer

David’s horse, Bear, is an Icelandic gelding who is (rather like Cheddar) the class clown. He can and does find ways to wiggle out of lessons that are difficult or boring, but he is by nature the right temperament to be a school horse. As Bear’s only 9 years old he’s at the middle of his educational journey as a riding horse. Which is--naturally--why I decided it was time he started his journey as a driving horse! In part, the decision to start Bear out ground driving was due to the recent death of my friend’s beloved horse, Skuggi, and the arrival of her new horse, Freyr . . . and Freyr is both a riding and a driving horse who can work in harness solo or as a pair.

So, Bear needed to catch up with his new buddy. Bear at least was starting from scratch, had no bad habits to overcome, and is a quick study and willing pupil. Unfortunately, I wasn’t starting from scratch and so I do have a lot of bad habits to overcome.  Although I’ve driven (see blog #9) and although Hasty is an experienced ground driving horse, with trainer Shannon, I’m learning a whole new (and better) approach to starting a horse at ground driving. There’ve been a few blips along the way, but Bear truly has been a star pupil (and his human is catching up).

And if Bear’s entry into the world of being a driving horse, and if my entry into a different way of approaching this learning aren’t examples of life-long learning, . . . then I don’t know what is. 

Bear and David chillin' out in the field this summer

For about the last ten years, I’ve been accompanying David to Calgary Flames home hockey games. Now, David’s a bred-and-born Canadian who grew up playing hockey so his knowledge of the game is seeded in his DNA. Not so me. 

Despite going to games for some ten years, I still haven’t a clue what’s going on. 

For me, watching the crowd’s behaviour is the most interesting part of the game. I have long suspected that my lack of knowledge about the game is seriously pinching my enjoyment of the whole experience. I also suspect that I can no longer pull the “I’m an immigrant so what do I know about hockey” card, so I’ve set myself a goal to learn more about the game’s rules. 

This is not a New Year’s Resolution (which have a life expectancy of about a nano second with me). This is life-long learning at its best (I hope).

MISCELLANEOUS

After a rocky and stressful start to retirement, I’m starting to believe that there may be a lot of good things about this retirement business. 

Mention the word “retirement” on Facebook and I can guarantee that you will get all sorts of adverts that are more-or-less related to retirement. As I am in the process of wrestling various corners of my home back into submission, and as I am weeding out a lot of “stuff,” this particular link seems very relevant right now: 30 things every retiree should get rid of (by Jason Notte):

https://www.msn.com/en-ca/money/retirement/30-things-every-retiree-should-get-rid-of/ss-BBQqzAT?ocid=spartandhp#image=31

I’m currently re-reading one of Dan Brown’s books (Deception Point). It’s a high-action, fast-moving book with lots of life-threatening things happening to the protagonists, and there are some seriously mean bad guys. Fortunately, the protagonists never need the bathroom! (See earlier blogs and references to penis envy.) So, I got to thinking that if I should ever write the great Canadian novel, it’d have to have a protagonist who was dealing with a minor bladder infection and all her actions would have to revolve around finding an indoor loo . . . which got me wondering whether or not I should seriously consider signing up for Margaret Atwood’s masterclass on creative writing!

 Happy Winter Solstice. I, for one, look forward to the return of daylight (more riding and more gardening). 

Cheers, Chris 😊

Blog #9: Medical Insurance, Retired Words, and Blogging

BLOG #9: Medical Insurance, Retired Words, and Blogging

The things that pop into my mind and make a connection to retiring/being retired are often mind boggling and certainly not anything that would have occurred to me even six months ago. Different things cross my consciousness and some keep on going, some go and come back, and some stick like Gorilla glue and I’m off down a rabbit hole chasing those ideas. What’s stuck with me in the last week or so is health-care insurance, words that have fallen out of use in my personal vocabulary, and the profession of blogging.

BLUE CROSS

The other day I was out at the barn chatting to my barn mate, Bill, who was getting his lovely yellow-dun mare, Sally, ready for a ride in the hay field. (Names changed for privacy.) The day was a beautiful, early-winter day in Alberta with a bright-blue sky that is quintessentially Alberta, a nip in the air, and a skiff of snow on the ground. Just the day for a quiet trail ride (hack for British readers) so that a horse in full winter coat and human bundled up like the Michelin Tyre Man don’t get too hot. I was prep’ing my hubby’s Icelandic gelding, Bear, for a ride as a change from my own horse, Hasty. As Bill’s not normally the chatty type, I enjoyed chatting and getting his perspective on life as a retiree.

Bill’s been retired a few years, he’s a few months older than me, and he was ranting in a quite justifiable way about trying to sort out his Blue Cross medical insurance. When one turns 65, Blue Cross picks up the cost of the premiums and the cost of eye exams, but for those who have more comprehensive insurance plans, it appears to mean an adjustment (of some sort) to those plans. There are probably other things I don’t yet know about, but as I no longer have employer health insurance, and as I have a very basic model of Blue Cross coverage, I was particularly interested in what Bill was upset about. What it boils down to is ageism. Ageism in that, while on the phone to a customer service representative, the explanations (slower and louder) became frustratingly simplified once the rep realized that Bill was 64 y.o. Ummmmmm. Is this what I have to look forward to as I process the paperwork when I turn 65? 

I suggested to Bill that once he’s figured this all out he just explain it to me (without the need for a slower, louder, simpler explanation) so I could save myself the hassle of trying to get information over the phone. 

I have a feeling I’m not done with researching Blue Cross and that this topic will make its way into my daily doings again before too long.

RETIRED WORDS

A “retired”  word popped into my mind the other day probably because our newest rescue kitten (who, as I write, is still looking for a fur-ever home that is somewhere other than my place) was being, well, a kitten. Now, to be sure, Cheddar is absolutely adorable (when he’s asleep), and I love his cheeky confidence and his ambitious desire (or death wise) to engage with our three, mature,  been-there-done-it-not-interested-now female kitties.  I surprised myself by calling him a “silly wee moggie.” If you’ve grown up in England you’re familiar with the term moggie. You’ll know that mog, moggy/moggie, and moggies are perfectly respectable terms of affections for cats.  They certainly aren’t terms I use in Canada (except with those friends who also grew up in England). Unless you are a Canadian with cat-loving friends who grew up in England, the terms aren’t going to register with you. Which got me thinking about other words that I retired from my vocabulary when I moved to Canada but which I drag out of retirement and dust off whenever I’m back in Jolly Olde. 

• According to Bing, the term Moggy is used for cats that don’t have pedigrees – essentially a Heinz 57 type of kitty (and that’d be most kitties). 

• According to Merriam-Webster the term Moggy or Moggie was first used in 1911 and the online dictionary suggests that the word might be a diminutive form of Margaret (and M-W would be very wrong). 

• Dictionary.com (my personal favourite for online dictionaries) says that the noun is an informal British term, puts the first usage much earlier than 1911, and says the term was used to describe a baby cow (well, not in my neck of the woods). Dictionary.com puts first use at 1815-1825 with the possibility of a Cockney origin. 
  

Either way, the words Mog, Moggie/Moggy, Moggies are retired words and not used in my Canadian vocabulary.  I do think that’s a bit of a shame, and so I’m now on a campaign to experiment with their use in my everyday conversations.

BLOGGING

In case you’re not aware of it, technology hates me. I’m really one of those people who needs a teenager or a 4 y.o. to help me. I gave up using the VCR years ago, and my newish-to-me iphone has many features that are still a complete mystery to me. My computer truly does use its downtime to plot against me and there are more ways that modern technology can thwart me than you can image. So, it’s often something of a surprise to me that I managed at work with multiple programs and databases at SAIT and things technological that were part of my everyday work. It’s also something of a complete surprise to me that I’m even contemplating a “post-retirement career” as a blogger.

The Dummies type books have been a big help to me in terms of setting up this retirement-themed blog, but I’m now moving into the big leagues on self-help books and starting to learn more about blogging so that readers can find me and so that I can make some money out of blog #2.

Blog #2 will be a blog about older gals and their older horses (although it’s not limited to specific types of readers) and my goal is to make money off this blog – something I didn’t know was a possibility until about six months ago.

So, I’m currently reading The Huffington Post Complete Guide to Blogging by too many authors to list. If you want the complete bib info, please let me know. 

Why I’m mentioning this book is that recently I’ve been chewing on whether or not I’d be happy to make $5.00, $5,000.00, or $50,000.00/ year off blog #2. Where I’ve settled is somewhere between both ends of the financial continuum with the expectation that I’ll be at the lower end.

I also realized (one of those blinding flashes of the obvious moments) that I’m looking forward to putting “Blogger” vs. “Retiree” on the occupation line of my income tax return. There’s a certain satisfaction in having a “real” job title, and I’ll be in the company of some 112 million bloggers world-wide. Perhaps, at some point in the future, there’s an opportunity to put my curriculum specialist hat back on so I can design and develop a continuing education course for wanna-be bloggers.

Here’s a real-fast summary of some information about blogging that comes from the Huffington Post book and that you might not know:

·         According to Technorati, only 36% of blogs are in English; 37% are in Japanese, 8% in Chinese, and 1% in Farsi.

·         54% of bloggers are under 30 y.o. (which means, of course, that I’m in good company as  46% percent of bloggers are older than 30 y.o.!)

·         That there’s an equal distribution of female and male bloggers (yeah!)

·         And that 60% of bloggers are “…less likely to be white . . .”

I was particularly intrigued (and amused) by Item #10 in the Top Ten Reasons Why You Should (blog): “For the opportunity to make an additional $1.65 per week through Google AdWords or the Amazon Associates program.” Well, . . . guess I might be in for a bit surprise then on blog #2.

Professions generally have their own professional organizations. These organizations control membership by qualifications (think degrees and professional designations).  In various ways the organizations also control the behaviours of their members, expect some sort of on-going professional development from members, have means to resolve conflict between members and between members and their clients or governments, and take fees to manage members’ professional lives. Bloggers by their very nature don’t really fit into a “professional” category and, rather like herding cats, would likely refuse to join a professional organization even if one were available. So, now I’m wondering whether or not blogging can legitimately be called a profession. 

Your thoughts?

Herding cats, however, is something I enjoy. Not literally herding cats, but the type of cat herding that, in my recent professional world, was essentially curriculum projects. And in one of those “Let’s leap down a rabbit hole” moments, I’m reminded of that fabulous EDS advert about herding cats: https://youtu.be/Pk7yqlTMvp8

MISCELLANEOUS:

·        When it’s cold and snowy, I can roll over in bed and not worry about driving to work or slipping and sliding down the hill to catch the bus.

·        I applied for a part-time job the other day and realized that if I need to present a resume I have to completely rewrite one as nothing in my current resume is remotely useful.

·        Old-world skills (such as working with horses, riding, driving, etc.) will make me a much-sought-after worker in a post-apocalyptic world when we have no choice but to return to simpler technology. And I can drive a team of horses:  

Medical insurance; old-fashioned, retired words; herding cats; simpler technology; and new professions such as blogging – who’d have thought that retirement could be this exciting!

Cheers, Chris J

Blog #8: Transformation, Grief, and Wardrobes

BLOG # 8: Transformation, Grief, and Wardrobes.

I hope, if nothing else, you will give me credit for interesting titles and how I strive to link seemingly disconnected items together and to retirement.

Transformation and grief – the words rather than the feelings – hit my consciousness this last couple of weeks. Wardrobes were an ongoing issue, but they are now resolved.

TRANSFORMATION

This past weekend I was listening to The Sunday Edition on CBC radio. Host  Michael Enright was talking about transformation. In Mr. Enright’s case his personal transformation was around giving up smoking, having children, and switching his metal coat hangers for plastic ones. . . but his point was that however small, transformation is an important process.

Here’s the link to the podcast. Mr. Enright’s musings on transformation start at 0.39: https://tunein.com/podcasts/Current-Affairs/The-Sunday-Edition-(CBC)-p492/?topicId=127128417

One comment in particular struck me and it has stuck with me: “If you want things to stay the same, then things are going to have to change.”  Mr. Enright said that he loved the idea behind the quote but that he had no idea what it meant. I’m with Mr. Enright on this one. In some ways, the meaning is perfectly obvious, but I suspect that that obviousness is hiding a deeper meaning that is currently eluding me. And, I suspect this may cause me to leap down yet another rabbit hole to chase a bunny who may or may not be there.

I am now five months into this semi-retirement thing, and I am beginning to think I am getting the hang of being a retiree. . . and there is certainly a lot of personal transformation going on. I don’t know if I am just overthinking this whole thing (a distinct possibility), or if I just didn’t prepare well enough for the emotional side of retirement, or if my decision to retire a couple of years earlier than planned is a contributing factor. I do know that the transformation from fully employed worker in a professional field to unemployed person in no field has been a tad rocky.

GRIEF

Grief is part of life, of course, and often leads to transformations. The recent death of a friend’s beloved horse got me thinking about grief in different terms.  And the term “grief” has recently forced its way into my thinking as I have come to realize that for a while I grieved the loss of my employment, my profession, my place in the working world. I had expected some grief, but I was surprised by the depth of that grief. Somehow, naming it gives me some control over it. I think I’m largely over that now – thank heavens-- but what a relief to have figured out why I was having such a rough journey for the first couple of months.

I had coffee last week with a  former SAIT colleague and she mentioned that only now, two years into retirement, is she thinking of herself as a retired person.

WARDROBE

You may recall my dithering around what to wear to the Charlotte Dejardin clinic way back in the summer and my ongoing musings about retirement clothing. For the Charlotte clinic, I settled on a crisply-pressed pair of jeans and lipstick because the clinic was in the Calgary area and there is not a problem in the world that cannot be fixed by the right shade of lipstick (or a nice cuppa tea . . . depending on the circumstances). That decision should have put me on the right road to the solution for my retirement wardrobe and would have saved me a couple more months of dithering if I had only paid more attention.

To be fair, you’d be hard-pressed to put Chris and sartorial splendor, fashion forward, or fashionista in the same sentence, but  clothes do maketh the woman, and it is important that the clothes match my new “job” as a retiree.

I am, quite frankly, amazed at how much energy I have been devoting to my worries about my retirement wardrobe. The last time I concerned myself with a wardrobe of any kind was back in the, oh, early ‘80s when John T. Molloy published his The Woman’s Dress for Success Book. I’ll bet I still have a copy tucked away in one of the many piles of books in one of the rooms of my home. I’ll bet that several of my friends also have copies tucked away somewhere. Back in the 1980s women were taking the business world by storm and were straddling the line between what might be seen as traditional women’s clothing and the female version of the male business suit. Mr. Molloy’s book hit North America by storm. Those of us then-young women struggling to make our way in the business world (not yet aware of the “glass ceiling”) were intrigued. I know I was . . . and not so much by the advice but the research that went into that advice. I’ve never been able to look at how people dress in the business world quite the same way ever since.

If you’re old enough to vaguely remember this book but can’t recall it, maybe this image will jog your memory:

Long before Mr. Molloy’s research and recommendations made their way back into my memories, I had started conducting my own informal survey of a few women friends to see if they had any advice for me. Informal as in not in the least scientific: no hypothesis, no well-thought-out testing, no defensible evidence.

Why is this “research” important?

Here's why: Chances are, in your retirement planning, you have given absolutely no thought whatsoever to your retirement wardrobe. You’ve taken care of your pension and your investments; you have taken care of your post-retirement career or activities; you may even have planned the trips you want to make before ill health and lameness rob you of the opportunities, but I’m just betting that you have never, ever given any thought to what sort of wardrobe you need to be a smartly-turned out retiree. 

So please take my struggles as my gift to you.

My women friends come from an education, a nursing, an equine, and an oil industry background. What follows is a summary of their comments (names removed to protect the innocent) . . .

“ It’s been a challenge to figure that stuff out!  . . .  there really was not a great deal of middle ground between my old office wardrobe and my babysitting/cleaning/gardening apparel. . . it actually took me a very long time to transition my wardrobe.  Initially, I had thought I’d keep everything that I used to wear to the office in the event I might go back.  When I shopped I would naturally gravitate to that look, too.  That really didn’t work. . . it’s now evolved to my wearing jeans of some form or another most of the time, even to a dressy event where I’ll put a better pair with a nice top or jacket and nice shoes.  .  I like scarves and good jewelry to dress things up.  I think with a big change like retirement we initially spend a lot of time thinking about how we’re presenting ourselves to the world because it’s so different from what we’re used to.  It takes some getting used to - I don’t think it can be rushed.”

“ I didn't need to buy a new wardrobe because my work clothes were pretty casual. I can get away with my work clothes any time I need something other than jeans which isn't very often. I do have some 'lady clothes' full length black skirt, matching trousers, and a couple of drapy tops. I have a pair of patent leather flats and a pair of Mary Janes to complete the ensemble. On the rare occasion when something semi-formal is expected I can get away with some combination of those which I dress up with a collection of infinity and regular scarves and pins.”

“An interesting question - one that another friend of mine and I have been discussing as she transitions into her "life of leisure." The hardest part I have found (and still have troubles with) is that I keep looking at clothes and think "that would make a good office jacket." Before retirement, I did have three types of clothes: office clothes, chore clothes and dress up clothes. I've recently decided that I'm not going to keep the "dressy casual" stuff in the closet on hangers. Now, unless I'm doing a "crud" job, I try to wear something a little nicer than I would have previously. I'm gradually getting rid of the office attire (thrift store, consignment) and keeping only those blazers that I really, really will wear to say a meeting, jury duty, etc. I've found this to be one of the harder phases of retirement - what a curious thought??? I wonder what Freud would think about this???”

One friend used the term “Elevated Casual” which I think is absolutely perfect for this transitional wardrobe as I transform from an office worker to a retiree.

There is some relief in knowing that I am not the only person who has struggled with this part of the transformation, and the question that I had previously consigned to the frivolous box is actually an important step in the transformation process.

. . . and then I had an epithany, or perhaps I really mean a blinding flash of the obvious.

I live in Calgary, and providing one has a good pair of nicely-pressed jeans, one can go pretty much anywhere. The bridge between my workplace wardrobe (many pieces I still have) and my barn wardrobe is so obvious: denim.

Jeans I already have: one pair of “Mom” jeans and one pair of skinny jeans. Somewhere I have a denim skirt.  I have a couple of denim shirts: one that is downright scruffy and fit only for the barn but the others that are quite smart if pressed. I was recently successful in my  hunt for a denim jacket. So that only leaves the search for a denim dress – and I’ll probably have to wait till a couple of weeks before Stampede for that item.  Everything else I own from multiple versions of black t-shirts to jewellery to shoes fits around the denim theme.

You have no idea how relieved I am!

So,  my wardrobe woes are all resolved and you’re unlikely to hear any more about it.

MISCELLANEOUS:

On my recent trip to the U.K. I learnt that “concessions” (seniors’ discounts) are not available on rail travel unless one has a rail card (which means one has to be a resident), the concession on entrance to Conwy Castle in Wales is a whopping 70p, and the concession on the hop-on-hop-off bus in Glasgow is a whopping One Pound. This is not enough to buy a cup of coffee . . . with the singular exception of Pret a Manger which has a decently-sized cup of coffee for 99p.

A friend of mine was talking about a movement in the U.K. where more and more folks are refusing to identify with their ages because they don’t feel their ages. She also suggested that the term Old Age Pensioner (OAP) be consigned to the bonfire! Good suggestion! . . . Let’s also dump the terms Seniors’ Discount and Golden Years to that same bonfire.

Grief and transformation are often connected to each other even if we don’t realize it at the time. Acknowledging both states of being and incorporating those words into how I see myself as a retiree are as important as resolving my wardrobe woes.

Or, perhaps, I really am just over thinking everything.

Blog #7: Women's Titles, Jury Duty, Precarious Employment, and Penis Envy (again)

BLOG #7: Women’s Titles, Jury Duty, Precarious Employment, and Penis Envy (again)

Today, September 21, marks three months since I left SAIT and semi-retired. I have to admit that I am still processing how I feel about moving from being a fully employed person to an unemployed person (because being retired is being unemployed in the traditional sense). I still feel as though I am on a long vacation, and I expect that won’t change until I return from England at the end of October.

WOMEN’s TITLES

A couple of weeks ago I was on 17 Avenue SW meeting a group of fabulous women for brunch. This was the height of summer so pretty summer dresses and sandals, shorts, muscle shirts were normal attire for most folks at this point and it was blisteringly hot by 10:00.  I  was arriving at a rather upscale establishment, and I was the first to arrive. The doorperson greeted me and called me Ma’am. Thereafter, however, the wait staff called me Miss.

Put aside traditional titles for woman with respect to their marital status (and this assumes they aren’t using a professional title such as doctor or reverend/pastor/rabbi, etc.). I don’t wear a wedding band so there’s no traditional and obvious clue to my marital status, and I use “Miss” rather than “Ms” as my title, but I got to wondering at what point does a woman change from a Miss to a Ma’am or Madam? For example, what clues are there for people that one might call a 22 year old woman “Miss,” but refer to that same 22 year old woman pushing a stroller as “Ma’am”?

Were the wait staff trying to be polite to an obviously matronly woman thinking calling me “Miss” would make me feel better?

What’s going on?

You’ll notice that men don’t ever change their titles.

Perhaps we need a new title for retired persons who are female. Open to suggestions on this one.

JURY DUTY (and ageism)

Discrimination takes many shapes and forms and ageism is just one of those forms . . . and the latest example for me is to discover that I become exempt from jury duty once I turn 65. Why? Does my brain suddenly atrophy at 65? Why at 64 am I considered capable but suddenly at 65 I am not.

I’m pondering on this piece of information because  I recently received a summons for jury duty, and if I’m called to be assessed for jury duty, I’m not sure if I should work hard to demonstrate that I am cognitively and physically capable of performing my civic duty or if I should just let bias have its way and use this as a get-out-of-jail-free card (pun intended) so I can avoid jury duty.

PRECARIOUS EMPLOYMENT:

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how my reentry into the workforce will take place and in what format it’ll be. Coffee with a friend really got me thinking about minimum wage (in Alberta this goes up to $15/hour this October) and what type of work I want to do. My friend mentioned that she didn’t think she could/would work for minimum wage. I have to ask myself, “Would I?”

The term “precarious employment” has entered our lexicon in the last few years.

In terms of precarious employment, I have my daughter’s mid-twenties  friends and coworkers to gauge by, so my observations are hardly scientific. What I observe is that very few of them have been or are currently enrolled in post-secondary courses/programs that would lead to professional positions and that most are under employed, employed part-time, or  employed part-time and working two or more jobs. This is not a criticism of their life choices, merely an observation and a convenient platform into observations about employment. Leap back about 25 years and long before the term “precarious employment” was coined, and I was working as a part-time contract instructor. Now, it’s a sad fact that many post-secondary instructors/professors start out their careers as casual or sessional instructors. This is also the time when these folks are establishing their careers, paying back student loans, possibly looking at settling down (think mortgage, partner, children).  It’s also a sad fact that for budget management reasons many institutions take advantage of this group of folks. I know, I was there for seven years . . . although, to be fair, I also had a baby/toddler at the time and working part-time somewhat worked to my advantage. But looking back on this experience I realize that apart from these seven years of very iffy employment, most of my work has been full-time work that included a decent salary, employer benefits, and a pension plan, and those features definitely lift a job out of the realm of precarious employment.

So, here I am on a short-term contract working part-time as a provincial enumerator for minimum wage. I’m enjoying the work, actually. I can tell you that your provincial government is working very hard on your behalf to ensure that you can exercise your right to vote. This contract provides me with a purpose for my daily walking, I get to work by myself with not a committee in sight,  I’m getting to know a part of Calgary I didn’t know existed except in passing,  and the money I earn will pay for the plants in my new Chinook-hardy flower garden. On one side of my zone are multi-million dollar homes with gorgeous front gardens and high-end vehicles parked on the streets and up the driveways . . . and on the other side of my zone are dwellings where the occupants are clearly struggling financially and the vehicles are what one might refer to as beaten up bangers. No judgement on my part (I hope) . . . sometimes it takes a while to establish oneself and one must live the way one needs to in order to make ends meet. But I couldn’t help reflecting that many of the folks on the “wrong side of the road” are probably precariously employed and also that if I weren’t retired how I, too, would qualify as being precariously employed. I’ve also been chewing on how many hours at minimum wage it’s going to take me to earn around $450.00 (around 30 hours) and how quickly I could have earned $450.00 working in education.

This knowledge won’t stop me from taking on other short-term, minimum wage positions if they interest me because there is at least one big advantage: limited responsibility . . . limited responsibility from me around organization and planning vs. actually doing of the job.

And I’ve been chewing on this new knowledge a lot recently. Not that I’ve arrived at any logical answer, but the chewing in itself is interesting as I’m having to confront a whole bunch of assumptions about the value of work, value of a profession, value we as a society place on different professions. And having the opportunity to walk around two very different communities divided only by one road has got me thinking about life choices, access to opportunities, taking advantage of opportunities, expectations of oneself, what career decisions I might have made if I hadn’t made my way into education. And I’m beginning to wonder if my return to work will be back into education (either teaching or curriculum work) or whether or not it will take some totally unexpected shape that I haven’t even considered.

PENIS ENVY (again):

September in Calgary has seen below average temperatures  and some snow (anything from a skiff to a dump depending where in the province one lives). Our normal daytime temperatures this time of year are around +15C to +18C . . . not hovering around zero. September has really been the month that didn’t happen. This follows a blisteringly hot and incredibly dry summer and weeks of forest fire smoke from British Columbia limiting outdoor activities.

This abrupt change in weather and temperatures has proved difficult for the horses who are in the process of changing coats . . . which means they are still shedding their summer coats and have grown only the start of their fall coats (which, by November will be heavier winter coats).

What does this have to do with penis envy? . . . hang in there, I’ll get to it.

So, horses who are not normally rugged at this time of year are already in rugs or at least wearing rugs till the weather normalizes, and horsey humans are dragging out every piece of barn clothing so they can stay warm when working with their equid buddies.

In addition, in my work as a provincial enumerator till the end of September,  I’m bundled up like the Michelin Tyre man as I complete my routes.

All of which has got me looking for my long johns, Stanfords, woolly combinations – whatever you choose to call them.

Are you starting to see the connection?

So, woolly combinations for men: often all one piece so the waist band area never gets cold . . . possibly with a bum flap for more serious stuff, but still minimizing exposure to the cold . . . and a fly to, again, ummmm minimize exposure to the cold.

Check out the union suits (a new term for me) from the LLBean catalogue https://www.llbean.com/llb/shop/47356?page=two-layer-union-suit-men-s&bc=12-26&feat=Long%20Underwear-SR0&csp=f&searchTerm=Long%20Underwear (and a word of caution: if you are going looking for woolly combinations online, please be careful just which website you select to look at!!!!!). 

Women’s combinations: ummmmm, well, unless a woman wants to divest herself of snow suit equipment, several woolly sweaters and such, a one-piece combination would require that she completely undresses in order to pee and that means maximum exposure to the cold. Which is probably why women have two-piece combinations . . . but there’s still a lot of skin exposed just to take a whiz. And let’s not forget that younger women are often managing small children (also wearing multiple layers of clothing) in public bathrooms, so that adds another layer of complication.

Gentlemen, once again . . . please realize just how lucky you are. . . and please give some thought to your horsey women friends as we manage our combinations.

And on a side note, have you ever noticed that no character in a novel ever has to visit the facilities? Recently I was reading a futuristic novel (and like all futuristic novels it was depressing, bleak, and not at all positive), and the protagonist had to pee, outside, in the forest, and she was worried about privacy and getting her boots wet (refer back to Blog #6 if you don’t get the reference). I wish I’d noted the exact paragraph and the protagonist’s comments. Good job she wasn’t also coping with her woolly combinations.

MISCELLANEOUS

Recently I was watching one of Rick Steves’s travel programs. This was part of PBS’s drive for viewer funding, and Mr. Steves mentioned that his travels abroad to exotic countries were, in some ways, safer than staying at home. Tactful, careful, and mindful of his audience, Mr. Steves’s comments were still pointedly obvious (he is American) and his feelings about his current government were all the more powerful for his tactful, understated comments. I will keep his comments about the safety of travelling abroad in mind as I shall shortly be packing for a month-long stay in the British Isles.

Even though I don’t have my birth year plugged into my Facebook profile, its algorithm (?) must be picking up on comments about retirement because a lot of the pop-up adverts are to do with things of interest to retired persons. This got me thinking about a book I recently picked up at the library. I tried (unsuccessfully, again) to read a book by Catharina Ingelman-Sundberg. This one is called The Little Old Lady Behaving Badly, and it’s translated into English from Swedish. I love the title! Despite loving the concept of a gang of old folks plotting to and then successfully robbing banks to support their charitable endeavours, I’ve not been able to get into the two books I’ve tried reading. Not that I’m considering a post-retirement move to a life of crime, but I do love the concept of elderly folks behaving badly.

I’ve been spending rather a lot of time at SAIT recently  dropping off or picking up my currently carless daughter from her photography courses. Somehow, in the last three months, I have managed to completely disconnect myself from campus and I feel no more than I would feel moving around Mount Royal University’s or University of Calgary’s campuses. Which is a tad odd because I’ve spent so much time and so many years on campus. Next week, I’m on campus visiting and lunching, so it’ll be interesting to see if I feel any different or if I feel like an outsider? Odd that a place that took up some much of my emotional and intellectual energy now neither takes anything from me nor gives anything to me.

. . . and in the category of things I can now do:

1.      Popping out to the barn for an appointment with the farrier (blacksmith) on a weekday without booking a flex day or vacation day or negotiating with a barn buddy to bring the horses in for me.

2.      Running out to a hardware store during the quieter weekday hours (in this particular case shopping for some wood).

3.      Rolling over in bed and going back to sleep because it’s still dark/cold/wet/miserable out. Now if I could only train my Canadian husband and Canadian daughter that the British idea of bringing mum tea in bed is acceptable in Canada.

4.      Playing Mum’s Taxi Service without having to negotiate days off work or juggling work commitments because my daughter Heather was recently involved in a traffic incident. She’s okay (we’re still not sure about her car, though), but having one parental unit to drive her around to various medical appointments is a big bonus and clearly a bonus linked of my being semi-retired.

How did we move so very quickly from hot, sunny, long summer days of summer dresses and sandals to the cold, crisp, short fall (autumn) days where I’m thinking of woolly combinations? Is there a parallel here between moving from being a full-employed professional to a semi-retired/ unemployed person and moving from summer to fall?

Blog #6: Loss, Penis Envy, Seniors' Meals, Statistics, and More on What Retirement Means

BLOG #6: Loss, Penis Envy, Seniors’ Meals, Statistics, and More on What Retirement Means

What does loss, penis envy, seniors’ meals, and statistics have to do with retirement? Bit of a stretch, isn’t it?, but these are the things I’m mulling on these days. . . plus more chewing on what retirement does actually mean and entail.

LOSS

In the week leading up to retiring from SAIT I had an opportunity to attend a one-hour workshop on preparing for retirement. Not a financial workshop but more of a personal wellbeing workshop. Could be too little too late, but I had already been giving a lot of thought to what my retirement would look like in the immediate, medium-term, and far-off future. I recall only two things from the workshop: finding something that provides one with value to oneself and a person’s 60s being the decade of loss.

Yikes!

And yet, the decade of loss is a reasonable statement. Depending on how closely a person is tied to his/her profession/trade, there is the loss of employment, loss of profession/trade, loss of career identify, loss of status in one’s professional community, loss of salary, loss of benefits, loss of routine,  loss of like-minded buddies, loss of interesting and meaningful work, and probably other losses connected to employment I haven’t considered. If one has parents still alive, they are elderly, and a person can expect to lose them in her 60s. Friends are no longer dying in stupid, youth-related, ill-advised, devil-may-care accidents but of age-related illnesses and diseases. Those lucky enough to have grandchildren might be seeing the eldest of those children preparing to leave home and head off to college/university or jobs away from home.

All of which is a little depressing . . . and looks at retirement from a somewhat negative viewpoint. Because I’m doing Google-type research on retirement (for ideas related to a money-making blog at some distant time in the future), these types of articles are popping up: “Don’t retire,” “No Need to Ever Retire,” “Retiring is the Worst Decision You’ll Ever Make.”

What really brought loss home to me this past couple of weeks was the illness and the death of  fellow horse woman Cathie. Cathie was a lovely woman and more of an acquaintance than a friend. However, our mutual interest kept our paths crossing for about 30 years, she was only 55 y.o., and while she’d lived a good and full life, Cathie’s plans for herself would undoubtedly have included another thirty good, horsey years.

PENIS ENVY

If you’re wondering how on earth I’m going to tie the male member into retirement, you’re not alone, but I believe I can do it.

And if you’re worried I’m about to launch into a feminist diatribe, well, no . . . at least not this time.

What starting this particular trip down this particular rabbit hole was a comment posted by a buddy on FB and a recent volunteer stint at a horse show. Just to be clear, the two events aren’t related to each other.

The FB comment first:

To protect the innocent, names withheld . . . but my buddy and his 85 y.o. mum were talking about censorship in art and her reply was, “Well, at least fig leaves are more attractive than most penises.” Not a conversation I’m likely to have with my 86 y.o. mum. I have to wonder just how many penises this mum has seen that she can confidently make this statement. And . . .  I can’t help thinking that  if most of the female of the species felt that way, the human race would have died out a long time ago. However, go Mum go and keep making these types of comments, please.

The horse show:

I had an opportunity to work with Faye timing the speed event at the Working Equitation sanctioned show in Cochrane on a blisteringly hot Sunday. Working Equitation is very popular in Europe and is somewhat similar to western trail events if you are familiar with those. There were two events at the Cochrane Ag Centre that weekend: the Working Equitation show and the Extreme Cowboy show. Couple of hundred people between the two shows (spectators and competitors not counting horses and dogs). . . two port-a-potties (as in just two potties). . . four days of competition

 . . . four days of blisteringly hot heat beating down on the potties. . . did I mention the couple of hundred humans? . . .  and I’m guessing at this point you can see where I’m heading.

Nope, nope, nope. Not me. Not using those port-a-potties. Nope. But in that heat. I needed to stay hydrated, but drinking a lot of water leads to . . . well, the necessity to make trips to the loo. Contemplating the port-a-potties was a non-event and . . . well, this is when horse stalls start to look like attractive alternatives without or without the horse for company. But . . . modesty is an issue for girls.  The ancient knees of retired gals are also a bit of an issue: creaky and not terribly reliable about raising us back up to standing . And then that the ever-present concern that all gals have about peeing on their boots. So, “Suck it up, Buttercup” takes on a whole new meaning . . . and that’s where penis envy comes into the conversation.

Forget all about male privilege, what I envy is the very practical ability men have to pee outside without fear getting their boots wet, without exposing too much of themselves and risking a loss of modesty, and being able to pop into a horse stall to pee without having to bend their knees to accomplish the task.

Gentlemen, you have no idea how fortunate you are. Think about this, please, next time you are somewhere with large crowds and few port-a-potties.

SENIORS’ MEALS

Why are senior’s meals half the size of regular meals?

Why does the Seniors’ Menu offer only a very limited choice of meals?

Why do only family-style restaurants (think Smitty’s, Denny’s, Humpy’s, etc.) offer seniors’ meals but more upmarket dining establishment do not?

And something I’ve never thought to ask is whether a seniors’ discount is still applied to a reduced-size meal.

Not that it matters as there’s seldom anything of interest to this vegetarian diner, but I do wonder why the menu is so limited. If you know, please enlighten me.

STATISTICS

For someone as math phobic as me, it surprises me that I like statistics. When I check my blog site I see that most of my readers are located in Canada and England, I can find out how many hits my blog has had each month, and I can even find out what type of device was used to connect. What I don’t know is quite what I’m going to do with this information. I sense a little more research is in my future.

MORE ON WHAT RETIREMENT MEANS

Earlier, I talked about loss, and that’s something I’ve been chewing on quite a lot recently (with respect to retirement). I’ve mentioned that I’m unlikely to be a successful fully-retired person. What I am not missing is the politics, the panics, the projects that go seriously sideways. What I am missing is the intellectual stimulation, planning interesting projects, taking those projects to completion, wrestling with problems and solving them, working with like-minded folks, joshing around with colleagues, working as a well-oiled cog in an efficient machine.

Shortly before I left SAIT, Diane sent me a link to a short article about a book by Jonatan Chevreau called  The Four Phases of Retirement.

Quick summary here:

·         Phase 1: typically freedom from obligations and vacation mode

·         Phase 2: the “… abyss of insignificance” and losses to do with one’s place in the working world and one’s profession

·         Phase 3: Response to those losses/trial and error and the realization that time’s running out and one needs to get cracking to accomplish what one wants to accomplish

·         Phase 4: Reinvent and Repurpose

As I’m just about to enter week 8 of semi-retirement (I’m really thinking of this as a sabbatical) . . . I am clearly still in Phase 1 and expect to stay there for a while, but I already see signs of Phases 2, 3, & 4 creeping into my thoughts.

Several women friends have recently retired. Some have successfully fully retired, although I doubt if they drop entirely being teachers, medical folks, artists, horse trainers, librarians, etc. These folks seem to have embraced retirement, devoted themselves to established hobbies they didn’t quite have time to do while working, or picked up new interests. Some others retired and then promptly reinvented themselves in new, post-retirement professions. So, there’s a certain amount of retirement-related envy on my part as I’ve not become comfortable with being retired and I also have not figured out what my new post-retirement career will look like.

Stay tuned on this one as I expect there’ll be a lot of chewing on this topic in the short- and medium-term of my retirement.

MISCELLANEOUS:

In the category of “Things I can now do . . .”

1.       Going for breakfast on a Friday morning with a friend.

2.       Going out for dinner on a week night, staying out late (because I can) as I don’t have to worry about getting to bed early so I can get up at 05:30 the next morning.

3.       Forgetting that a long weekend is coming up.

4.       Going out for lunch on a Tuesday with Joan.

5.       Being out at the barn for 08:00 on a weekday so I can work two horses before it gets too hot.

6.       Pushing aside all thoughts and minor panics about preparing for fall startup.

AND . . .

Did I do it?

Did I manage to link loss, penis envy, seniors’ meals, and what retirement means to retirement?