Not Missing Out

Even the most ardent of President Biden’s supporters acknowledge it wasn’t a smooth landing. His exit from the presential race was less like the door quietly shutting on the way out and more like someone stumbling down the stairs, unaware of the tumble, dazed and confused about what just happened. 

For older people like myself, the episode hit close to home, or at least in the same neighborhood. Biden represented to me the “Everyman” who hangs on too long, unaware that his time has passed, having lost his effectiveness, clueless that his ageism is all too evident to others.

For some time, I’ve wondered, “Why? Why does the President continue?” Setting aside his public explanations, I still thought, “He’s missing out on so much of life.”

My dad established his dental practice in Altus, Ok., where I grew up, and he practiced dentistry for almost 60 years, retiring completely when he was 86, tapering back the last few years, eventually working only 2-3 days a week. He had made a pact with Dr. Mark Goodman, the younger dentist he brought in, to take over his practice eventually: “If you ever see my work slipping, you have to be honest and tell me.” That time never came, and Dad kept working. He loved his profession and was good at it until he quit. 

When Mom and Dad finally moved to a retirement village in Lubbock, TX, Dad took it all in: indoor swimming exercise, going to the movies with others, themed cookouts on the patio, relishing every meal, and yes, even the snacks. 

Then, Dad had a series of surgeries. As my sister-in-law, Joy, was helping him after one of those surgeries, he commented, “This is not exactly what I thought I’d be doing in my retirement,” to which Joy innocently questioned, “Do you think you might have worked too long?” 

I wonder.

That’s why my ears perked up when one of my friends, a parishioner in the church I pastored, asked when I thought I would retire. He quickly added, “I’m not suggesting you need to retire; I just don’t want you to miss out.”

“I just don’t want you to miss out.” Indeed. I didn’t want that either. And I knew he had my best interest in mind.  

I was physically and mentally sound, confident I could keep going, like Dad. But my friend’s comment, “I don’t want you to miss out,” kept echoing. I didn’t want to look back and wish I had quit sooner, but at the same time, I didn’t want to let go while I could still make a positive difference.

The key, I realized, is to quit before you have no choice, to exit before people are relieved when you finally announce your retirement.

Before I told anyone publicly, I began making plans for a well-timed exit, transitioning myself and positioning the church for my departure. 

I have yet to feel like I’ve retired because, mentally, I have simply entered into a new phase of my career. I continue teaching as an adjunct professor at Campbellsville University and have invested my time in my own research and writing projects. 

Caleb, the Bible character, is a good model for those experiencing ageism. Remember him? At 85, he declared, “I am still as strong today as the day Moses sent me out (45 years earlier); I’m just as vigorous to go out to battle now as I was then” (Joshua 14:11). Maybe he was a tad overly optimistic about his skill set, but I like his confident attitude. He had the gumption I hope to have at 85, and apparently he did conquer the mountain Moses had promised him. 

Being honest with ourselves and our capabilities or lack thereof is complex but critical to a fruitful end of any career. Stevie Nicks sang: “Even children get older/And I’m gettin’ older, too.” Coming to terms with that reality takes time and reflection. 

The brutal truth is that whether we are 32, 65, or 85—all we have is one day at a time. 

And I don’t want to miss out.

Not even for one day.