Slow Go Train to Retirement

17 June 2019

It’s a strange time.

My work is winding down, as my replacement comes on board to take control of my caseload and my manager eases me off of the front lines. I’ve completed the paperwork for the transition, and my plans and intentions sink from the level of bold fantasy to one of ever more practical details, having to do with time, reasonable expectations of my energy and ability to focus, and money. Every day, I’m greeted with good wishes, promises to ‘have lunch’ and misled assumptions about a theoretical ‘good life’ that awaits.

Yes…this is the eve of retirement.

I’ve heard relatively lots about folks who ought to retire, but don’t. For the last two plus years, I’ve been one of them. And I’ve heard lots of tales – at lease forty percent of them, cautionary in flavor – about the first, breaking-in year, of retirement. But I don’t remember hearing very much about the immediate aftermath of this very final transition.

Yes…it’s a very odd time.

I didn’t ever want to look ahead very much. And so this period of time, and what will follow, come upon me as entirely novel and almost unanticipated. That is, retirement was never particularly dreamt of or longed for. The term always struck me as dismally final, and seemingly, so passive. And I’ve never quite understood the so common phenomenon of retired people working. It always seemed pointless and pitiable. Particularly as retirement jobs often seem redundant, like make-work.

I had four months last year to prepare me for what is to come. How did it go? It didn’t unfold as expected. I got so little done. Yet, it was satisfying, and I wasn’t eager to go back to work. I know that I’ll have to watch out for my tendencies, though.



28 June 2019

I’m on the GO train from Hamilton this morning, on what was originally to have been my last day of work. I hadn’t intended on having another such trip, but I’m so glad that I am. Nostalgia has led through a lot of downtown Toronto neighborhoods on my bike, and touring a bit in the car – wanting to “touch base” with this past I’m so eager to escape from. It isn’t possible for memory or nostalgia to recapture any experience in its fullness, but I at least, always feel the tug, the desire to do so.

So many things seem fitting about these last weeks and months. I’ve made some new friendships among colleagues, many of them new to the program as I’ve been preparing my exit. Who knows how I’ll maintain these ties – it’s never been a particular strength of mine. But these feel to be good, healthy connections, whether they lead to anything enduring or not. I had an interaction with Rick, one of the office managers, for example. He’s been coaching me on some health perspectives lately. And when he told me that he’s working on a book, and asked for writing advice, I gave him some which can potentially serve me as well as it can him. I pointed out that writing and editing are completely different tasks, not to be attempted at the same time, that one has to do the initial writing as freely as possible – simply let the words come, without worrying about any of the corrections and elevations and arranging that are the tasks of editing. I hope that I will myself operate more from this awareness.

I really, really like new colleague-friends Sheena and Marsha. Sheena became a friend by often stopping as she passed my desk on the way to her office, introducing herself and asking me about my day. She’s been so wonderful! And Marsha and I have had some deep and serious discussions about a whole range of things, from the Raptors to some of the dysfunctions of the workplace. Kirk has been around a good two or three years at least, but we only got to chatting occasionally when he moved up from SOW to SOC. We went for beer about 3 weeks ago, and I really hope we’ll repeat it. I guess that in support of the notion that I can maintain connections – I’ve met for meals with both Rachel and Lorine in the last two weeks, both whom I  first met well over twenty years ago.

I have to give Ayanna a call today, and find out about the memorial plans for my Aunt Irene.

Ponczka is in the middle of some dental work that Dr. J says can’t be completed in the month we will remain with my city benefits. The idea was floated yesterday that I postpone my retirement for another month or so. I find the idea really difficult to consider. I so want out – despite all the tugs of nostalgia. It’s time for me to move on, to tackle this next phase, to jump with both feet into the writing. I would so hate to have to go into work and ask if I can stick around for another few weeks. How disempowering that would be. We'll just have to fork over the extra money.

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I’m now on the GO train home. But I was a few minutes late for the West Harbour train, so am on the one for Hamilton Centre, and the beautiful, little art deco train station.

We’re heading for Willow this weekend, but have decided to leave early tomorrow instead of late tonight, so it should be a fairly relaxed evening.

It was an interesting day at work. I had a couple of interesting conversations with colleagues, which included a couple of unexpected perspectives. For one, the view that there was some embarrassing attention directed my way at my retirement event last week, because one of my supervisors pointed out how lax I can be with my notes, and exaggerated that I’d generated no housing events in the last year. The first point didn’t bother me in the least, but the second was in fact a point of embarrassment for me. And I’ve wondered whether it would make me feel better or worse to protest and insist on my two housing events. It’s worsened by the fact that the single housing I put into motion since about this time last year has just fallen apart, due to the disappearance of he who was to be housed.

On the other hand, there’ve been three very positive developments on my caseload:

- I successfully advocated for a favorite young couple of mine to have their subsidy re-activated.

- A landlord who refused a client of mine recently, made contact to offer a 2-bedroom he now has available.

- Just yesterday, a suitable TCHC offer finally came through for a client I’ve been connected with for a few months – along with others. A couple of us took him to the viewing today and he has happily accepted it.

These small victories help me to go out with some sense of accomplishment, and knowing I haven’t been a total loser.

- There’s actually a second subsidy re-activation that I requested just today, which may also go through.

The other thing that was raised by a colleague today is the idea that my repeated attempts to get with Community Development could have been blocked by staff putting out a bad word. The thought had crossed my mind, though I never like to put too much thought into such possibilities. But perhaps it’s naïve of me not to.

Today, I felt much like one foot is already out the door at S2H. Actually, it’s more than that. Already, changes are happening with the team that I’m not being included on, my clients have largely been handed over. The work is proceeding without me and around me. I’ve said any number of ‘final’ goodbyes to colleagues who will be on vacation next week. Bittersweet.


And I’m also realizing that, on a significant level, this retirement marks a goodbye to Toronto. No longer will I have a substantial and regular connection to that city. Sure, there will by my Radio Regent show, and my writing group, but I’ve been in and around the hub of the city on a daily basis for over 25 years, and that is now ending. I’ll remain close enough to get to TO anytime I want, and yet.

I am Dead; Long Live I

I am not a King, except in the sense that we are all Kings or Queens of our own lives, our own fates, our personal, day to day realities. Perhaps instead of King, we could substitute God. Except that, either way, our power and sphere of influence are limited, even within our own, tiny realms.

And yet, I feel the echo of regime change echoing through every corner of my Corpus Kirby: “The King is Dead; Long Live the King”

It hasn’t been a very violent revolution – thank mercy for that! But it’s been a revolution nonetheless. The internal peasantry has grown dissatisfied with supporting a regime that thinks only to preserve itself, and that cares nothing for holism, or for giving the minority interests room to breathe, or for “culture”.

It’s the middle classes that have paved the way for this revolt. They have rejected stability and routine and have welcomed the anarchy of the rabble, who on their part have overturned furniture, started fires (with no real purpose to burn anything down, but mostly to upset the fire department and to be entertained by the sparks and the dancing flames). And this rabble has played loud music and pigged out on junk food looted from the reserves of the business-as-usual community. And the policing forces have sat this one out, waiting on the sidelines to learn which way the pendulum is swinging, ready to impose a cease fire before all goes to hell.

Actually, this pending retirement/revolution is lots more fun that what I’ve suggested above. When you do one of those ‘stress inventories’ that are to be found in self-help magazines, it’s always suggested that good changes are just as upsetting as bad ones. Which we all know is bullshit, of course, though the point can be acknowledged: we are creatures of habit, and change makes us feel that we’re losing control. What’s overlooked is that we never have control to begin with, if control is taken to mean safe, predictable and according to plan.

Not only have I never had that sort of control of my life, I haven’t really looked for it. The miracles and the bogeyman-emerging-from-under-the-bed scares are way more fun, and productive, and stimulating. I don’t mind at all that ‘I’ is dying, and that finally ‘I’ get a shot on the throne. ‘I’ will do a better job than ‘I’ ever did. That’s for sure. Because ‘I’ isn’t about just holding on. ‘I’ is about moving this train, is about exploding things, is about forcing those way overdue, embryonic dreams into screaming, breast-feeding Life. (And isn’t breast-feeding the most passive yet kingly, take-control while surrendering, BEING HERE thing possible? I think so. In fact, I’m sure of it!)

So roll over and bend the knee, inner planner, sensible self, ego-man. Be a child again. Thrive, as you embrace this good night!