684 WORDS:
Who Says Nothing Is Nothing!
Robert Isenberg
10/28/2011
Retirement is the hardest job I have ever undertaken. I
don’t think it’s the kind of job one can quit and go somewhere else. Well maybe
there is one place. There are so many problems with retirement that it’s
impossible to list them all. The worst part of retiring is you never finish.
You never get done. There is always more to do, except there is no way to know
what it is. I’m never sure if I should be folding my socks or reading the
Journal. Which ever one I choose to do, I know it’s the wrong choice. Best to
choose to do nothing. I’m getting very good at doing nothing. I’m becoming very
aware there is an art to doing nothing. Nothing is not nothing!!
When I’m at home, everywhere I look I see a potential job.
We have lived in our house for thirty-five years. I have accumulated
thirty-five years of stuff. What to keep? What to throw out? I even have trouble throwing out
magazines. Just as the magazine is about to get trashed, I see an article that
I meant to read years ago. The
magazine is saved as I pull it out of the trash.
Stuff is everywhere. There are clothes that I purchased and
designed in Hong Kong. There are clothes that I purchased and designed in
Taipei. There are clothes that I
purchased and designed in Brazil. Sometimes I try on these clothes. I show my
wife.
“My ,” she
says, “that looks so good on you, and it still fits beautifully.”
Back in the
closet it goes.
I’m trying to find my way through a maze of electronics. My
computer hates me.
So does my I phone. I realize, just as G-d dislikes old
people, these gadgets hate and, even worse mock old people. The worst aspect of
arguing with these high tech tools is how smart they are. For sure they spell
better than I do. Their grammar is better than mine. My I Phone even changes my
wording It is very sure of itself. It is sure it knows a better way of saying
whatever I was saying.
Now I’m trying out the newest high tech hearing aids. Of
course, they are useless to me I’m no longer young enough to understand all of
the wonderful things these two little plugs could do for me if I fully
understood their program. There is
no way old people should be given anything as small as hearing aids. I prefer being a deaf bastard to
struggling with these tiny ear infiltrators. Glasses were bad enough. What’s
next? What will I need next to help me compensate for my next loss of whatever
I will lose?
I feel like a kept man. Dana teaches yoga at least nine
times weekly and earns money. No matter what I do, I make no money. Dana is now
organizing the downstairs bathroom. I’m watching some reruns of a mindless T.V
show .The show has been on for at least 5 years. I have only begun to watch it
now that it is in reruns. .I’m
trying to decide whether it is a very dark comedy or serious drama. I call out
to Dana to stop working and join me.
“I thought you
were going to be working on your piece for writer’s group,” Dana says.
“Well, I’m not. I’ll finish writing it tomorrow.”
“Awhile ago you said you would be working on your piece
tonight, which is why I started this job.”
“Well stop
doing it. Stop working and join me.”
“No,” Dana
replies, “someone has to get things done around here and it doesn’t look like
it’s going to be you.”
I can’t stay in
the house looking around at all the things I should be doing. I can’t stay in
the house trying to find all the things I put down somewhere. I must leave the
house immediately before I decide to start something that I know will only lead
to more trouble. But, where to go?
I’m volunteered out. I’m tennised out. I’ve already swum, early this morning. I know. I’ll go to
the bus terminal and see if they need another driver.
And that’s not
nothing!!
