I have had the date circled on the family calendar for weeks. June 28 is the date my wife, Mary, retires. June 29 is the date my life changes … for the good?
I left the workforce in January 2020 when school budget cuts eliminated my job for the second time. I faced the prospect of taking over a blended sixth-grade class with a beginning teacher. I hadn’t been in a classroom in seven years. It was an itch I chose not to scratch. I retired.
After 4½ years of owning my mornings and setting my own agenda, the applecart is about to be upended.
Who will be in charge? The former educator/registrar or the former senior vice president of communications? The former sports editor or former metro editor? Himself or Herself? There will ultimately be a disagreement over who is in charge of a meal or home project or some trivial thing.
I’m buckling my emotional seatbelt. This could be a new-age The Odd Couple, and I have more Oscar than Felix genes.
“You’re in trouble, buddy,’’ laughed my house guest Murray.
“Jim has been fretting about this for weeks,’’ chuckled my golf foe Larry.
“It’s gonna be a compromise from Day One,’’ warned a fellow retired teacher Jeff.
Perhaps I’m overthinking this. There is a lot of freedom in life as empty-nesters. For three evenings a week, Mary works out at the Y, teaches a furniture refinishing class, and plays pickleball. I’m refereeing lacrosse or basketball three or four nights a week. We decide everything together, but to this point we have done most things separately.
Mornings should continue undisturbed. She doesn’t budge an inch when I rise at 5:15 on Tuesday and Friday mornings to run the YMCA basketball game. Routinely, she still is sleeping when I return home at 7:30. She doesn’t roll over when I leave on Mondays and Thursdays, 20 minutes before sunrise, to walk 18 holes at the nearby golf course.
I’m confident she won’t take up golf. I can thank her first boyfriend for that. He played for the University of Akron. Mary claimed that every time they had a disagreement, he announced he needed to go practice.
To understand the allure of the game, she took a golf class at Bowling Green. She proclaimed it a “dumb’’ game and moved on. In my morning solitude, while trying to avoid shooting a radio station (101, 102, etc.), I thank the Lord, and Mary’s ex.
I dwelled on the basketball referee who should have been holding a pre-game strategy session with me, but jabbered on about the affair he was having, and how he and his wife would retire together in a couple of years “but had nothing in common.’’ Good luck sorting that one out.
Maybe pickleball is an option. Before it became popular, my guys would heckle each other during the morning basketball game.
“Holleran, you geriatric chucker,’’ my pal Randy would beller. “If you shoot any more of those Scud missiles, you can put on your Velcro sneakers at 7:30 and join the pickleball crowd.’’
I tried it a few times and it decided it was entertaining, but I preferred to expend my energy on fullcourt hoops and golf, walking and carrying for 18 holes. I’ll reconsider pickleball in my 70s.
There are going to be clashes. I routinely stop for lunch while I’m out running errands. I disappear for an hour to shoot baskets at the Y or hit a bucket of balls at the driving range. I assemble a posse to make pies; the flour settles everywhere in the kitchen. That is as big a sin as taping over your wedding video.
Can this marriage last another 40 years? I can hear the theme music from The Odd Couple and the narrator: “On November 13, Felix Unger was asked to remove himself from his place of residence; that request came from his wife. Deep down, he knew she was right …’’
As a joke, I looked up the divorce rate for aging couples. Newsflash – For couples over 65, the rate has tripled in recent decades. One of 10 persons getting divorced are over 65. It even has a pop culture term – gray divorce.
At age 66, I’ll settle for another 20 years. But who knows how much patience St. Mary holds?
Morristown native Jim Holleran is a retired teacher and sports editor from Rochester. Reach him at jimholleran29@gmail.com or view past columns under “Reflections of River Rat’’ at https://hollerangetsitwrite.com/blog/
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