May 1, 2016
The picture is of Marguerite and me in Fiji, married about three months, two “deer caught in the headlights” of a new chapter of life.
I want to say something poignant today, but the following random mental misfirings (a blob o' words, I think) will have to do; I’m too lazy to review it to see if it makes sense. Friends will understand…I hope 😊. Sometimes it is just fun to start writing and see where I end up.
Tomorrow, May 2, I wrap up a 32-year career in the software profession. Before that, I had several jobs that add up to almost 45 years of working, in one form or another. That’s enough.
During those 32 years of software work, I was a minion, a peer, and, for almost 25 of those years, a boss. I think I succeeded at being a boss for the most part, perhaps not “admirably,” but it worked. My approach was to be less “boss” and more “good guy” – that is not always a good approach for the boss to take. Again, it worked…for the most part. I was lucky to have very good people to work with and it was simply not in my nature to be a jerk, the way bosses often feel they have to be. Frankly, I don't really see the need for anyone to be a jerk, ever. But I digress…
The most important part of that career was not the positions I held, the money it paid, or even the success of the company; it was the friends, the relationships, that I will take out the door with me (in addition to my old laptop that the company gave me as a "lovely parting gift." They gave me a lot more than that).
The job filled my belly; the people filled my soul. I doubt that is much of an epiphany for anyone.
Names come to mind: Dale, Jeff, Alice, Geoffrey, Roger, Frank, Al, Lynice, Desi, Fauzi, Mark B, Matt, Mitch, Tim, Giuseppe, and so many more that it would likely fill a page. These people have been my friends. THAT is what I take with me: the friends, those that helped feed my soul while I worked away at a career that simply did not match the person inside.
Fairly early on, I managed to realize a lesson from that dissatisfaction with my career and have done everything I could to guide Elizabeth, Gary and Ben to understand the importance of matching their careers with the person inside, while also not telling them what to do or how to do it – that is not an easy thing for parents to do, is it? I failed several times, quite miserably, in fact. My children have seen me nearly in tears at the frustration of pouring my life into a mismatched career. They have endured their dad’s “soul-searching.”
Soon after they could walk, I trekked/force-marched them into the wilderness to as far as their little legs would take them, found a mountain lake where we were the only people for miles around, spread our sleeping pads along the lake shore, lay on our backs, my stomach a pillow for the boys and the crux of my arm the pillow for my little girl. The chill and dark of the mountain evening settled around us. We lay there, small, listening, watching, whispering, questioning, even theorizing; darkness enveloped, stars flickered, life happened; and we shared the cool, clean breath of god – just my children and me.
WOW! I MOST DEFINITELY DIGRESS… the point is, that fed my soul. And, yep, my career paid for the backpacks. For that, and many other things, I appreciate my career.
The best “job” (I quote because perhaps it was not a job – you have to be paid for it to be a job, or do you?) I ever had was as a Peace Corps math teacher in Fiji. Now THAT fed my soul. It was very hard at times – the hardest job you’ll ever love – but the difficulties were minuscule compared to the good – I told myself – I was doing. That first year in Nayavu Village, I lived in my bure (grass house) at the edge of the bush with thousands of toads, rats and geckos (the geckos were cool, they ate the flies), millions of flies and mosquitoes, bats two to three times the size of this laptop computer I am typing on, cock roaches the size of a coffee coaster, spiders literally as big as my hand (I have stories), my beloved dogs (my friends) Bani and Bilbo and, especially, the villagers of Nayavu Village. I had mosquito coils, geckos to eat the flies, and a mosquito net to keep the cockroaches and mosquitoes at bay, Bani and Bilbo to chase the furry critters away, a village of some of the most wonderful humans in existence and, yes, a sky full of stars to ponder. My soul flourished. (I have written a book, in fact. I will share a link to a “Reader’s Digest” version someday.)
What more could one ask for?
And then the second year I had a friend, a very best friend, come join me in Nayavu, in that little grass house at the edge of the bush, with my two little dogs, stars set deep and clean above the thick canopy; she even came with all those other critters scurrying and buzzing about. I called this person, Itau, which means “friend” in Fijian.
My best friend – the one before I met Itau – once told me, as we sat on the hood of my brother’s 64 Chevy at a sewer treatment plant, on a steamy summer night in southern Ohio, a 12 pack (mostly empties) strewn about us, looking up at the stars and pondering life: “Rod, someday you will meet someone and marry her. Then, I will not be your very best friend.” You were right, Steve. Itau (aka Marguerite) is the good that makes life sweet. She has fed my soul where no one else could even see. She made everything possible, has comforted me those many times I stubbed my toe on the very life that I have sometimes worked so very hard to love, to embrace, and, sometimes, to simply endure.
But you are still a best friend, Steve. Always will be.
I am thankful for the career that has fed my belly; I am a fortunate man indeed to have had a fairly lucrative career (I can’t stress that enough; I don’t want to come across as unappreciative). It put a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, a basketball hoop in the driveway, backpacks on our backs, and three more college degrees on the mantle.
Sometimes, Rod, it is good to step back and look at the big picture; search for the sweet things that are out there; find that perspective that puts life into a bit more balance: that little grass house, tucked into the edge of the jungle, doors open, dogs smiling, mosquitoes buzzing, villagers living simply. That is still out there.
Friends and family – my village – that’s what it all boils down to.
(Sheesh, I tend to get a little bit over dramatic from time to time 😊. I guess that's where the writing takes me. It is nice to just write.)
Now, with retirement, what comes next? (Again, I am appreciative; my career has made it so that I can ask that question.) I have my goals, a whole bunch of them, in fact: biking, backpacking, volunteering at a bunch of stuff (our environment, Oregon Adult Literacy, and maybe step up and see how I can help the Georges of the world), and learning to write 😊(there is a novel in me somewhere, I just need to rummage around a little bit and see if I can find it), stay technical enough to maintain a website to share it all, and maybe find a part time job at something I am passionate about – REI comes to mind; they have great employee discounts 😊. I want to find more stars. And if you are interested, you will surely get wind of all that. Some of you may even be so “lucky” as to literally get “wind” when you answer a knock at your door to find a smiling, sweaty, stinky (a stench, if you will) vaguely familiar looking old fart with a bicycle helmet under one arm and a hug just for you in the other. I will give you fair warning.
But for now, I think it is okay to say I am going to take my lessons learned and apply them…as long as Itau says it’s okay. She will, she already has, she is a saint that way…as long as I do the cooking, wash the dishes, paint the house, fix the deck, clean the garage, wash the carpets, fix the steps to the garden, and finally, finally, finally replace the brake light on the Odyssey – generally “Clean up that mess!” She's funny that way.
I guess you could say I have goals, not necessarily plans. I do, however, have one plan: on the afternoon of May 2, after having said what will likely be a tearful goodbye to my friends at Ensequence, I am going to the local watering hole, Maxes, alone – I want to be alone for a little while – have a couple of beers, think back over these last few chapters of my life, reflecting on what my career has helped me to achieve: friends, family, and a soul still alive, still hungry; reflect on the honor (yep, that’s the right word) of being “dad” to my children; reflect on my sweet, sweet little Itau, pondering on just why the heck she has put up with me all these years; then pay my bill, leave a nice tip, catch the bus home and open our book to the next chapter.