Finish Lines

Today’s blog is about rites of passage and finish lines. When you’re younger, you begin to experience a series of rites of passage. Your first kiss, your driver’s license, the prom in high school graduation, maybe college graduation, marriage, first kid, and career milestones are all markers that your life is progressing as it should. But I’m past all that. I’ve begun breaking the tape on a series of finish lines. I first thought about this when I turned 60. That’s when I realized and admitted to myself that I was old. I’d already gone through the phases of saying 40 is the new 30, 50 is the new 40, but 60 is just 60. You can no longer dodge it or pretend. After that finish line, I turned 65. That’s when I was required to sign up for Medicare and TRICARE for life. For life.

I think my next finish line will be retirement. The plan now is for that to happen in September 2018. There is a tradition where I work to present retirees with a sad Indian on a horse. It’s like a graphic symbol that it’s time for you to die. I don’t see my retirement that way. My body still works. My mind still works. There are things I have planned and want to do. As long as I can drive safely, road trips will be a big part of my future. Vera and I have discussed opening our own art gallery. She has connections with several very good artists. I think it would be fun and useful to manage and work in the gallery. She already has a very good business advisor and we will meet with him in a few weeks. Since I’m a natural born planner, it seems smart to start this planning three years out.

There is another aspect of rites of passage. I also measure my life by when my sons experience their own rites of passage. I’ve never liked the concept of pride, but I permit myself to feel a certain amount of pride when my boys graduate from high school or college, begin careers, establish stable relationships (today’s substitute for marriage), or just begin to figure out and find their way in the world.

The significance of finish lines is not lost. I realize and I’m perfectly comfortable with the knowledge that each finish line I cross brings me closer to the final finish line. I’m good with that. Every human starts the same race. Every human will finish it. I figured out a couple of years ago that the start and finish are not as important as the race itself. I have been luckier than most with the experiences I’ve crammed between those two markers. I’ve gotten a great education, found a great life partner, had three great sons, and I’ve seen the world. I’ve managed to have two great careers, one as a Russian linguist in the Army, and one as an English teacher. I’m still fairly healthy and expect to live quite a bit longer. However, I know full well that I may not. And all I can say about that is, it’s okay. Life is good.