When We Retire

His Take:

Okay, this was supposed to be a piece of fiction this week, but I’m not really feeling it. Of course, I’m not sure what the world will be like when I retire, so technically this IS a work of fiction. But then again, aren’t they all?

Come hell or high water, when I return it will be to Rapids. With a little luck, I might be there sooner than later. Anyways, when I get there, I want to work for a couple years, actually. I feel like I owe the city of Wisconsin Rapids something for giving me the best upbringing a kid could have. It was there that I learned what’s right and what’s wrong, my beliefs about the world outside and most importantly, the right AND wrong way to be a friend.  Yeah, a lot of that was taught to me by my family, but every other person-whether Pastor, teacher, or store clerk had an effect on me. Largely by their kindness and decency. Except for some people. Ugh. Am I right?

So, I DO owe the city a little something. I’m hoping to repay it’s kindness by giving something back. My ideal choice? Taking over the reigns of “Over the Back Fence” when Carl Hilke retires. I mean, how awesome is that job? You get to talk to people from all walks of life, all over town, and help them get something they need or get rid of something they don’t need to someone who’s looking for that exact thing!! Meanwhile, you get to have somebody on to tell about their upcoming event or special sale. Basically, I want to host a Rapids-centric radio show that helps people out in one way, shape or form. 

Maybe it’ll be setting up a decent Free Comic Book Day event with the library and teaching classes about comics. Or advise the library on what their comic section could and should be. Every comic is someone’s first, and I want to make sure that everyone in Rapids has plenty of great stuff to choose from. Not just Diamond’s top 100. I’d love a kid’s discovery of Spider-Man to come from the Lee/Romita era or her first exposure to Steve Ditko be his Blue Beetle or The Question stories.
On a totally selfish note, I want to spend a lot of time at Lake Wazeecha fishing. That’s where my Grandpa took me when I was a kid. Unfortunately, I’ll never have a grandson of my own, but that’s okay, I can sit on the grass and fish anyway. And by that time, you’re phone will project holograms in front of your face, so while I fish I can also be ON the Price is Right. Or maybe a I’ll run a miniature golf course. With old school different color balls. Not like the mini golf courses now, with their all white balls. Lame. 

Bottom line  I just want to relax and enjoy my favorite city on the planet. Sit on a bench and talk with other old men about things that old men talk about. Like sports. And the ‘80’s. And food. OH!! I almost forgot, you’ll know where to find me every Tuesday and Saturday. And maybe Thursdays. Whatevs. I’ll be in Rapids. Word. True. 

Her Take:

August 11th, 2052

I’m awake just a few seconds before my eyes open and I can hear birds through the open window. Well, ‘bird’ I guess. I can tell that it’s one of the artificial birds the city installed because  the sharp decline in the bird population - and the associated silence it caused - was making everyone uncomfortable. These little ArtiBirds are sold by the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation and styled after real birds to make us all feel better. 

(On a side note: they blamed the decline in songbirds on climate change, but I know it was cats. It’s always the damn cats.)

My eyes open and, even though I’m staring straight up at the dark screen of my ceiling (I don’t use mine to show the ‘RealSky’ view like everyone else, it seems wasteful, especially when I’m asleep) I can already tell by the quality of the light that it’s a clear morning. 

I pause to take stock of how I feel. My muscles were sore when I went to bed and I was a little worried that spending time weeding the garden would leave me out of commission for the day. That would have been fine if I really NEEDED to weed the garden, it would have felt right somehow, but with NewSoil tech, there aren’t any weeds. I missed being in the garden so much that I went searching and found an app that would add HoloReal weeds over the area and I can weed to my heart’s content. It was so satisfying the first go-round that I reset the thing and did it twice. Maybe three times. That’s a lot of being stooped over in the artificial dirt for someone my age. 

Relieved that I seem fine, I swing my legs over, sit up, then stand and make my way to the bathroom for a morning constitutional. 

As I make my way down the steps, I can feel my knees warning me that storms are on the way. Soon, the gentle buzzing gives way to a soft chime and I pause to press the discreet skin-colored button on the side of my right knee. 

“New Weather Alert”, a friendly female voice says, “Thunderstorms will start in thirty minutes.” 

Sometimes I wonder if choosing the AccuWeather ArtiKnee was a good idea. There were a lot of options, like the RealMusic Dancing Knees, and it could have been fun to dance more. 

Not that I have someone to dance with. 

People ask me how I’m getting along since my husband passed and I say, “Oh, he’s not dead. Once he realized he didn’t ever have to leave the house, he just stopped doing it. He doesn’t like people very much.” They shake their head in what they must think is an understanding way, lightly squeeze my arm, and say, “Well, you take care now.” before they walk away. 

I know they think I’m crazy. That’s fine. 

He’s standing at the replicator when I enter the kitchen, singing along with Elvis. The screen on the kitchen ceiling is showing an exact replica of the sky over Honolulu on January 14th, 1973, the day Elvis filmed his Aloha from Hawaii special. The sun is just dipping toward the west so it’s almost showtime. There’s just enough time for me to get coffee and breakfast before the first notes of “Also Sprach Zarathustra” by Strauss, Elvis’ opening music begins.

“Hey.”, I say, just to get his attention.

He raises one finger in the air without turning. I can see the light in the replicator turning from blue to green to yellow to, finally, gold, and I know that he’s just waiting the final seconds to pull something out of it. 

“Ah!’, he says triumphantly, turning toward me with a steaming plate of waffles, “I made you breakfast. I worked really hard on it, too.” He chuckles.

His jokes haven’t changed in the last 50 years.

I thank him and take my seat at the dining room table, wondering vaguely if I know what day of the week it is. With a fluttering hand gesture, I wave the thought away. Either it will come to me, or I can ask one of the screens in the house, it doesn’t really matter, I’m retired. I find myself chewing my waffle slowly and reflecting on the ease life has now that we don’t have to punch a time clock. 

Don’t hear me saying what I’m not saying, friend, I loved my job. Not working, per se, but my job certainly, and it was hard for me to finally give it up to someone younger (and less well paid). The thing is, though, I watch my husband retire, and that changed me. 

From the time that we met, until the last day he punched a time clock, he shuffled along, a little miserable but resigned, waiting for his last day of work. The only thing that kept him going was the hope that he’d live to see retirement, and he did. Day One of retirement he woke a new man. He sang in the shower, he built models at the dining room table, he walked in the yard just to smell the fresh air, and he pinched my butt as I walked past with a gleam in his eye. His life was suddenly bursting with possibility and really, truly, fully happy for the first time in so many years.

He had five years to wait while I made my way to the end of my career, and he did so contentedly cleaning the house, replicating meals, and being alive in a magnificent way.

It’s been fifteen years this week since my last paid day of work, and I’m glad to report that retirement is everything it should be. Lazy days, less responsibility, contentedly puttering in my garden for no other reason than I want to, it’s all very good. 

Sure, my husband hasn’t left the yard in the last five years, but why would he?