The notion of retirement is changing. The Great Recession has scrambled a great many nest-eggs, so many older folks who have left their full-time, long-time occupation—people who are nominally retired—are still working. They are picking up part-time gigs where they can, or starting new businesses, or going back to their old employers on a contract basis. For those people, “retirement” isn’t quite the abrupt, heart-stopping transition that it used to be.
For many others, though, retirement remains a dramatic turning point. Habits must be changed. The old rhythms are replaced by drawn out tones. And the sense of purpose flags: as a friend said, “It’s good, but I’m having trouble with the meaning piece.”
It seems to be especially tough on professional athletes, because the daily or at least seasonal dose of exhilaration disappears completely, along with the big paycheck, and they are young. Basketball great Charles Barkley said he tells younger athletes to get ready: “The first month is great.” By the third month, you need something to keep you busy.
All that came to mind reading a fine story on retired pro surfers in the Sydney Morning Herald. Most Americans don’t know these blokes, but their experiences are remarkably similar to regular working stiffs the world over. When they quit the job they were best at, many of them have trouble finding a way to raise the additional cash they need to live on. They bounce around, unsure. They start businesses and live hand to mouth. They refocus on family and friends.
And they do the things they always wanted to do. In one case, that meant a change of gender.
Former top-ranked surfer Peter Drouyn stopped competing more than 30 years ago. Since then, he’s opened a modeling school, learned Mandarin “and introduced surfing to mainland China.” He studied acting and landed movie roles. “He also studied civil engineering and, in 2005, qualified as a solicitor. Oh, and he became a woman.”
No great life lessons here, except maybe that the range of the possible—in retirement and in life—is probably wider than we imagine it to be.
Photo by Bryan Gener via Wikimedia Commons
