It’s been a year since I retired. After decades of high-intensity work, we all think retirement means endless, idle days on the brink of boredom.
Not so.
I keep running out of time, to do things I want to do. Maybe my bucket list is too long. Maybe I’m keenly aware that time is short now. I’m in a position where I can afford things that I need and want. Except time.
No one can buy more time.
So there is a persistent urge to prioritize. Release burdens, discard mediocrity, resist complexity, leave Facebook fools behind. I am keenly aware that I will never get to read all the unread books on my shelves and in my Kindle. It’s time to choose. Biographies and history now take precedence over flying technique and airplanes.
The last time my medical certificate was renewed for my pilot license, I had a scare – quickly diagnosed as an x-ray machine error. Still, it was a hint that ageing pilots might soon run out of runway. A wise person told me to set a deadline – two or five years, whatever. Then I should walk away from flying, on my own terms, all my ambitions achieved. That way, nobody could take them away.
I had more flying hours this year than in the past three years combined.
One thinks that deadlines disappear after retirement. Maybe. I find myself now traveling at my leisure. A month in Tuscany, ten days in Normandy, and Paris, a fortnight with my sister in San Francisco. I have many airline miles.
Still, one deadline tugs at my consciousness. Friends and relatives are passing on. At my school reunions, the tradition to recite the names of classmates who had passed took 5 minutes. We decided that the damn tradition was too depressing, and quit it.
What an unfortunate word that is – dead-line.
So, I’m constantly pruning my bucket list. Oshkosh. The 75th anniversary of D-Day. Duxford’s Flying Legends. Family and friends. Dinners with my sons. Fly a jet, a P-51, a DC-3 rating, some outrageous aviation thing. Read.
As I wrote this Christmas card for readers of Flying in Crosswinds, I gazed a bit at my “retirement desk.”
Piles of diaries. The Aston-Martin from “Casino Royale.” Two Nativity tableaus, featuring the Magi — a research project. A crystal model of Mont Saint Michel. A hilltop village made of tree bark, from the Nuremberg Christmas Market.
A replica of Patton’s prayer card for good weather during the Battle of the Bulge. Business cards, and, under that but definitely there, a photo of the last sunset my dear friend John saw, as he died on the day of the Magi. An unseen reminder of The Deadline.
Projects, mementos of people and characters I loved, cheerful dreams and aspirations, and a pen. It will be an extremely busy retirement.
May you all have a magical Christmas, and a New Year full of dreams come true!
Posted from Manila
December 24, 2018
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