Can You Hear Me Now

Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.

Mahatma Gandhi

Like all people married as long as Linda and I have been (43 years and counting), our relationship needs the occasional tune-up to keep things moving in the right direction. This can take on many forms, but one tool that we’ve used to help pull us out of our self-made ruts is couples counseling. Nicky, our go-to therapist for many years, has been successful in walking us back from the edge of many cliffs. She was (Nicky is now retired) an impartial listener that allowed both of us to feel heard in a safe and welcoming space. Our sessions were rarely/never unicorns and rainbows, but I’ve found that working my way out of very uncomfortable places is typically the only way I learn.

Since no married couple exists in a vacuum, Nicky made us look holistically at our world. That, of course, meant our roles as mother and father to our three sons. Even though they are all grown with families of their own, they continue to play a big part in how Linda and I relate to each other.

It would take all day to write of everything she taught us about being parents (even us empty nester types), so I will single out one bit of wisdom that rises to the top. In the middle of a very difficult time in our lives, she told us, “you are always parenting your children.” It doesn’t matter their ages or proximity. They are forever observing our actions and deciding, willingly or not, how much of us will show up in them.

That made me think hard about my mother and father and how they continue to shape my life. Even in death, my father is still a force to be reckoned with. While I don’t think of him as often as I once did, he continues to pop into my head on a regular basis. Dad was a very difficult man so I can’t say that the incoming thoughts are always welcomed, but each time is another opportunity for me to do that “working my way out of very uncomfortable places” thing.

The happy memories, as few as the are, make me smile. The painful memories force me to examine something about myself.

A Teachable Moment

All of this brings me to what I really want to write about today — learning. Specifically, I want to write about lifelong learning.

Prior to retirement, I was very worried about settling into a pattern of sameness. Since my earliest days in public school, I have been immersed in learning. I had a thirst for knowledge and although I cannot claim expertise in any one thing, I have tried to stay on a path that invites new thoughts and experiences into my life. A good day is one that ends with me knowing something I didn’t know the day before.

Like me, my father had a career that required him to stay current with the day’s latest technological developments. He began his work life working with vacuum tubes before transitioning to transistors and integrated circuits. He finally called it quits when he was asked to tackle microprocessors. After 45 years immersed in the world of electronics, he had reached the end of his desire to absorb anything new.

Although my career was far less hardware and far more software, my technology arc wasn’t that all different than Dad’s. I began in 1983 where I wrote assembler language for a dual 8085 processor mini computer and ended up immersed in artificial intelligence where my computer was able to write code for me.

Although I didn’t reach the point where I could not absorb anything new, everything was moving so fast that it got to where it became impossible to predict what the next six months would bring to life. The innovation that generative AI is today may feel like a buggy whip tomorrow.

The Point Is?

When Dad retired at the age of 62 in the early 1980s, he lost all interest in the life that fed and clothed him since he was a young man working in a radio room on a destroyer off the coast of North Africa. He had a well equipped electronics workshop that sat empty. His volt meters, oscilloscopes, power supplies, and soldering iron sat on a shelf gathering dust. He traded his lifelong electronics knowledge for watching television and fishing for catfish at Scottsdale’s Chaparral Lake.

Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with fishing and the occasional TV show, but it quickly became all that he had. He didn’t read books, immerse himself in any hobbies, learn to play a musical instrument, and there is only so much you can learn from a catfish.

Besides working once a month as a Knights of Columbus bingo captain, he didn’t take on any volunteer jobs. While he didn’t exactly vegetate, he didn’t put a lot of new mileage on his brain.

At best
you might call it an unlikely gift
a dubious and suspect present

But more accurately
it’s a teachable moment
the kind that never needs repeating

Like putting your hands into the fire
to learn what it means to burn

Dad was still parenting me, though, but not in the way he might have expected. Like how my kids sometimes look at me, I was seeing my father for what I didn’t want in my life. The more he gave up and gave into complacency, the more I wanted to chart a different course for my elder years. I wanted to continue a life of growth and relevancy. By the time I reached 66, I was more than ready to walk away from a paycheck career, but I wasn’t willing to shut the door on challenging myself in previous and altogether new ways.

The Road Goes Ever On

And so here I am six-plus months into retirement and what I have I done to keep my feet moving in a forward direction?

• I started Irish Banjo lessons
• I recently took up playing Linda’s long deceased grandfather’s 1912 Gibson F2 mandolin
• I restarted writing software and began working with Llama AI
• I volunteer at my church to prepare meals for our Wednesday gathering
• I attend four men’s conversation groups
• I present fraud prevention training to community groups
• I practice the spiritual art of childcare for my three grandchildren
• I started this blog and post at least once a week
• I remain physically active and put nearly 3000 miles on my bike this summer

None of this is meant as bragging. Instead, it’s an inventory to help gauge my commitment to lifelong learning. It’s also a way to capture my world as it stands today. While I expect that some of these practices will be continued endeavors, I hope to see changes in my list five years from now. Stagnation is not a place I want to settle into.

In an odd and backward way, I acknowledge my father for this passion. Nine years after his death I am still paying attention to his actions and inactions.

Retired or not, what does your learning inventory look like? Are you moving forward, standing still, or somewhere in the middle.

Thank you for reading.

P.S. Dad developed dementia in his 80s and by the time he passed away at the age of 91, his mind was completely gone. While I realize that an active brain isn’t a foolproof way to prevent dementia, studies show that staying engaged in life helps delay and/or diminish its effects. Who knows what the future holds for my cognitive health, but at a minimum, I want to fully embrace the time I have.

I am learning to surrender to my breath
finding relief from the perpetual noise and clutter
that confuses my thoughts and confounds my dreams

I am learning to trust in something that cannot be felt
cannot be seen
that cannot be placed inside a box
and tucked away for another day

I am learning to let go
when all I have ever known was holding tight
and holding on

I am learning to turn my soul’s gaze inwards
while turning my heart’s gaze out

I am learning to make peace
with the wants, needs, and obsessions
that rule my every day

I am learning to find forgiveness
for the mistakes I am bound to make

I am learning that I have much to learn
and a long way to go