Finding the right words to describe people of a certain age.
Eileen Sharkey was my early mentor, then my business
partner. It was good to see her in Scottsdale at the FPA Retreat.
Seeing her nearly every day for ten years had spoiled me for ordinary
brains. Now we just see each other periodically. Different paths-but
she still blows me away with her astuteness and laser-like insights
into the core of a matter. Most of the time, I miss her.
This time she was troubled.
"We need a word," she said. "We need it fast."
"What word?" I queried.
"We need a better word for that time of life after a
primary career but before the rocking chair. 'Retirement' does not
work."
"Well, you know my opinion of the word 'retirement.'
I think it is horrid. It means death." I recalled a class I had taught
with Cicily Maton many Retreats ago and an accompanying Journal
article. The Microsoft Word program's synonyms had been wholly dreadful
variations on death and dying. (Curiously, the Microsoft folks seem to
have replaced every one of their original synonyms.)
"No. You are wrong. 'Retirement' is a perfectly good
word. In Europe, it means your end times. It means you sit in your
rocker and look at the fire or stay in bed and look at the wall. It
means you are tired. And you are. We need to keep it, but we just need
to use it with its original meaning."
Since she was born there and still has family, it
seemed foolish to argue the point. More importantly, this use had the
ring of integrity. "Retirement" made curious sense as a descriptor for
that time of life.
She then proceeded to describe a time of no name. If I may take the liberty of translating into my own words:
It is a time that lies somewhere south of the end of our lives and
north of the merry-go-round. Conceptually, it comes after the children
are grown, the mortgage is under control and at least one dog has died.
It is a time where we operate under our own power even though the
scouts are no longer watching.
Our finances are healthy enough to take some risks
or, even, skip a few beats, but perhaps they are not so healthy that
earned income is the last thing on our minds. Plus, we have some good
stuff to share and we still care about sharing it.
It is the stuff of financial services advertisements. Nonetheless, when
we watch them, we feel a bit of shame in their self-absorption, their
"It is all about me"-ness. We have kept our promises but do not mind
making a few more. One of our truths is our belief that life ought not
to be an "all take" proposition. We may want some of that ... We are not
saints, but we have always carried our weight and we worry about our
children and their world. We have this sneaking suspicion we are not
transmitting one that is as good as we got.
We may have another 40 or 50 years on the planet but
we know some contemporaries or younger who died of natural causes or,
worse, got themselves caught in some sort of health trap. Perhaps we
have even stared down the Reaper a time or two ourselves. We have
buried one parent, maybe two. For certain, we know beyond knowing that
neither immortality nor permanent good health is an option.
We have been babies, infants and toddlers. We
remember being children and pre-teens and adolescents. Then we were
young adults, then the real thing, including earning a genuine salary,
raising children, holding mortgages and periodically voting. We came to
it begrudgingly, but we were, in fact, adults. But that, too, was
another lifetime. It was a time for suits, and haircuts, and daily
commitments doing important work. Right now is something else entirely.
Even if we are still on the treadmill, it does not dominate.
Someday, we suspect/fear, we will stare into those
fires or just turn and face the wall. Then, and only then, we will be
"retired" in our own minds as the word was originally intended. Then,
and only then, we will be tired and tired again. This is to say that we
will be "retired" then. For now, though, and into the indefinite
future, we savor this life and seek to bring vigor, joy and
contribution to the undertaking.
We do not crave corporate. We might want off the
treadmill, or we might want to take advantage of special opportunities.
We might want to write that book, take those trips, develop new
interests, or whatever. The corner office does not beckon. Fresh air
does. So do shorts, golf shirts and sandals. But we still have a couple
of suits in the closet.
If we are lucky, we have grandchildren. And we
almost keep up. Always a joy but glad it is not permanent. If not, we
probably still have a pet or two or other commitments to remind us of
the pain/joy of responsibility.
"Retired" just does not work for this time. It not
only is imprecise, it deflates. It was for our grandparents, not us.
And it just keeps on meaning "tired."
We talked the issue for a while, then found some
friends and talked the issue a while longer. Then we trundled the issue
through the crowd, attempting to plant little seeds of creativity. We
asked the best and the brightest, those we had known for years.
Nothing. Oh, they tried. But nothing.
To a person, they agreed it was in issue and
promised to think on it. We are sure they will, but we are not sure
they grasp the exigency. This is a word we need to grow and use. The
time is now. Eileen was right about the urgency. We need it. Now.
It is common for financial planners to use the "R"
word. After all, it is part of the legal lexicon for all sorts of
things. It is the language used to describe certain kinds of accounts.
It is the asserted object of particular sorts of planning. Moreover, it
is the only available descriptor for that phase of life that comes
after "work." Perhaps most importantly, it is on the test.
Whatever. It is a lousy damn word for describing life phases of
unprecedented vitality and individual freedom for significant, extended
periods. For many/most of us, we are living the lives we choose. This
may be our time of prodigious skills and extraordinary contribution. It
may be the time for sleeping to our body's schedule, not dancing to our
employers' drumbeat. It is a lovely time where we are not
marionettes-nobody else pulls our strings. Indeed, we have the money
and motivation to yank back. For many of us, our financial resources
are sufficient to give us choices.
What do we call this time now? (And, oh yes, it is personal.) Who knows?
Our point is this. Language is required for meaningful conversation.
Without good language, imprecision can destroy the best ideas, the most
eloquent conversation or the most wonderful intentions. Bad language is
even worse. Without good words, we cannot do research, share our best
ideas or help clients focus.
Financial planning needs good words to talk about our possible
scenarios. "Guytonian Guardrails" or "Bengian Bumpers" withdrawal rates
and spending restraints (concepts from advisors Jonathan Guyton and
William Bengen, respectively) are one thing when staring into the face
of 30 more years. They are another in the years of our last journeys.
For many, this time is the whole point behind their financial planning.
Yet, we do not have words for this phase of life
that culminates the life lived and sets the table for our passing. We
need base words.
We do not need stupid words, undignified words or
insulting words. "Golden years?" (Huh!? Remember what happened to
Midas? He froze everything he loved and needed.) "Go-go, slow go, no
go." ("No va."-Spanish for "No go.") We are not "seasoned" or
"ripened." Those are for salespeople without a clue. Terms like "senior
citizens" generate big retching sounds. "Maturity" did not wait this
long. That came with first bras, jock straps, driver's licenses and
razor blades, and we jolly well know the difference.
"Aging baby boomers" is a transient term. Moreover,
the need for these words will not pass with those currently aged 42 to
60. Truth to tell, this need to describe this particular life phase
with sociological precision will likely be with the collective "we"
forever, Iran, bird flu and peak oil willing.
Perhaps we could turn "AARP" into something useful.
(For example, Gail and I anticipate using the term "AARP Music" to
describe pop music from the Beatles through Madonna as we nosh on our
soup and Jell-O.)
So we have been playing with words. Some criteria:
We need flexible words that play within contexts; words aspiring to the
gravitas of language describing other life phases without sounding like
slogans. We suggest that the words ought to indicate both time passages
and attitudes. Ideally, we need something that will make us hit our
foreheads with a loud "of course" or belch a Homerian "doh."
Comparables? "Adolescence" is a good one for
describing a particular time of life, a set of years, a physical
reality and a cohort group, while lending itself to "adolescent." Let
us work for something like that.
So, we plead with you, dear friends and colleagues.
Let us come up with some words to describe this most important life
phase.
We came up with a couple that might work. How about
"recreationists" as a root word for those who are "recreating" their
lives? With the obvious focus on creativity, this could lead to
"recreatence" (adolescence) or "recreatent" (adolescent). Of course,
the fact that "recreation" itself has specific meanings is something of
a drawback.
Or what about "rejuvenents," based on the word
"rejuvenate"? (My wife's contribution.) The synonyms are nice:
revitalize, invigorate, revive, revivify, refresh, renew and restore.
Plus, we rather like including the root syllable "juv" for recalling
our earlier days as "juveniles." "Rejuvenence" is a perfect parallel to
"adolescence."
Perhaps we could turn to music for source and
process words. For example, "decrescendo" could come after our
"crescendo"-a time of upsurge, loudness, climax or swelling. For the
period of life following our biggest bangs, could we talking about
"decrescendents" in their "decrescendence" like "adolescents" in their
"adolescence"?
"Elder" based words have a shot. "Elders" has long
been a term of respect. I have heard people using "eldering" as a verb.
Could we expand it to include something like "elderence,"
"elderescence" or "elderescent"?
Eileen suggests staying with more "everyday" words.
With our various freedoms (money, health, commitments) how about
calling this our "Explorer" phase? With a little work, a little play,
messing about and trying new things, reconnecting with old ideas and
friends in new contexts ... we have a chance to "I." ("Explorescence?"
"Explorescent?" Hmm.) What about "Second "Adulthood?" (Ick?) Or
"The Creative Age?" (Ickier?) Or "Pathfinders?" Switching to music, we
could incorporate "Composition." (Composcence?) Or how about a simple
but flexible "midlife" typified by work, volunteer service and leisure
activities? It sounds young enough not to irritate the boomers, but
untainted by implications of excessive responsibility (i.e.,
Adulthood). It is age neutral.
None of these words is perfect, but they are all
superior to "retired" or the other cloying gag-worthies in current use.
We invite you to try them on for size. What might work? If we change
the language, we change the world. This is a big deal. We need these
words.
Richard B. Wagner, JD, CFP, is the principal of WorthLiving LLC, based in Denver.