Tag Archives: life transitions

Causes and Friends, Personal Growth, Simple Living

Life in the Fourth Quarter

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Guest Post by Jack Falvey

You are who you once were, even in the fourth quarter of life. Beginning at age seventeen or so, we all begin to age. We just don’t notice it. In the fourth quarter, we begin to feel it. We each have a long list of things we can no longer do. Surprisingly, there is another longer list that can only be done in the fourth quarter.

What am I going to do next?

We can read late into the night, for example, and not be concerned about being late for work or even being tired the next day, as we can sleep in without a job to worry about. We will find we can live reasonably well with less than a million dollars under financial management. Modest living can be made to fit with what we can or like to do. We can take and make old-fashioned phone calls in real time without having to make appointments to do so. We can call people to chat, and they will greatly appreciate the call. You can be lonely if you like, but pick up either a smart or not-so-bright phone and call someone whenever you like. Staying in touch is big in the fourth quarter.

You can also cross things off your to-do list without ever doing them. One aging soul had a massive collection of 35 mm slides. He was sorting them out and digitizing them. One day, he asked himself who would view them. Not being able to answer that question, he threw them all away. Project “done”. Fourth-quarter people can do things like that if they have the strength to do so.

Having time and no longer having to run through airports, or now only being able to walk slowly, you can stay healthy by walking around the block. No health club required. One word of caution about health. Don’t begin conversations with an organ recital. We all have health issues. They are ours and need not be shared. One of the best uses of fourth-quarter time is to have live, face-to-face interaction or visits with others. That has always been the case, but now we can do it regularly if we make the effort.

We all change physically, but we are still the same person we have always been. So is everyone else here with us in the fourth quarter. We are all older and now wiser. Make your own list of stuff you can and want to do. It will exceed what you once were able to do in both quality of life and the quantity of fun stuff, which will rise to the top of that list. Share that list with as many others as you can. Finding others to share things with well could be your new almost full-time job. Retirement is out of fashion. Repotting is now the new thing. Growing in your new fourth-quarter world and having fun doing it is now the thing to do. It is the latest team sport. No court or paddles required. No conditioning or training needed. Focus on others, and you will qualify for the fourth-quarter Olympics almost overnight. Is much of this a surprise? There is a long list of surprises on the way now that you know to look for them. The fourth-quarter is the big one.

Jack Falvey is one of the most widely published freelance business writers in the world. In addition to his Dow Jones Features, his work has appeared in Newsweek, The Reader’s Digest, Inc. Magazine, Sales and Marketing Magazine and even Vogue! His most recent book: “All According to Plan: it was not my plan” is available on Amazon. He is in his fourth quarter at eighty-seven years of age.

Just for Fun, Personal Growth, Simple Living

Unless You’re the Worm

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I recently joked with someone that part of the aging process is figuring out that some things aren’t worth much care or worry. In more traditional terms, your perspective changes. Or at least it can. There are choices and decisions involved. It may be time to make them more consciously. It’s a big opportunity that’s easily overlooked.

stick figure fishing

A friend drove home the reality of perspectives by noting, “Fishing is relaxing unless you are a worm.” It’s more than a good quote.

We don’t get to choose whether we’re the worm or the fisherperson. There are realities that can’t be ignored. But let’s not miss the opportunity of simplicity. If you want to be more relaxed, going fishing isn’t a good choice if you’re a worm.

I’ll mix my metaphors to point out that I’ve previously written you can’t become a butterfly unless you’re willing to give up being a caterpillar. That’s also more than a great quote.

A few years ago, I was gifted a kids’ book after meeting the author. Unfortunately, I gave it to the school’s library and no longer have it[i]. ”My Magic Glasses” teaches kids emotional control as the heroine has a pair of magic glasses. When she puts them on, she sees different things and sees things differently. She chooses to put them on to help her make choices. The book is pure genius.

No matter what I’m wearing for glasses, my lawn is currently looking unkept. I’d like to attribute it to “No Mow May,” but that’s less than honest. Ultimately, my lawn’s appearance is the result of some decisions I made (or didn’t make). I could offer many reasonable explanations or excuses, but there’s an overriding question of “Why should I?”

“Do it yourself” is a choice we make with at least two assumptions. One involves enjoyment and relaxation.  “I like being outside and doing yardwork.” The other is that we tend to think of ourselves as cheap and convenient labor. We don’t do a cost/benefit analysis. (Unless, like me, you occasionally enjoy overthinking things.) We’re approaching life through rationalization — something fundamentally different from assertive decision-making.

Magic glasses help us answer the simple question: “Why am I doing this?” They help us distinguish between things that need our attention and things that merely demand it. Some days, the lawn needs mowing. Other days, the lawn can wait while we go fishing—assuming, of course, that we’re not the worm.

[i] Gray, V. B. (2012). My Magic glasses. Balboa Press. Digital copies are available from Barnes & Noble and Amazon.

Just for Fun, Maine Life, Personal Growth, Simple Living

An End Is a Beginning

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A good friend surprised me yesterday by announcing he would be retiring soon. Since it was a surprise, I couldn’t resist probing why. His answer was “I have things I want to do.” I felt reassured that he was on a good track because he was focused on the beginning.

I’m a self-proclaimed expert on the subject of retirement, having “retired” quite a few times. The word itself has an interesting etymology, tracing back to Middle French and Latin, meaning “to draw back” or “to withdraw.”

When I retired from practicing and teaching real estate, I remember well the moment I inactivated my broker’s license. When I clicked the submit button, not much happened. The heavens didn’t open. There was no clap of thunder or bolt of lightning. I’d made a simple life change — an end and a beginning.

On that same day, I left for Bangor. I stopped at the mailbox to pick up a big envelope of thank-you notes from some third-graders I’d recently spent time with. They weren’t interested in real estate. I also stopped to visit with a 94-year-old fellow in hospice. We didn’t discuss real estate. We had a great visit, and I enjoyed his smile.

As the day progressed, I seemed to have one positive experience after another. I had some canning jars to drop off at my Amish friend’s farm stand. It was another happy visit. I usually bring books for her sons, and their enthusiasm for them is both rewarding and encouraging. We don’t discuss real estate.

I know that our “worldview” tends to influence what we see and how we interpret it, but I had to admit that a lot of good stuff seemed to be coming my way on this both eventful and uneventful day. We can attribute it to Karma, fate, or the planets being aligned, but my last stop on the way home was the grocery store for a gallon of milk. When the fellow ahead of me was given his amount due, he jerked a thumb my way and said, “I want to pay for his milk.”

A day that started with an ending included lots of new beginnings. Or maybe just one. I was seeing the world a little differently. My good friend and colleague, Jack Falvey, kept telling me to stop using the word “retirement.” Jack’s wisdom was that I was actually repotting and would be growing in a different place.

I saw Jack’s truth at the mailbox, in a hospice facility, on an Amish farm, and in the local grocery store.

I may no longer be an official real estate broker, but new beginnings are more important than endings. We have a lot of control over how we see ourselves and the world. I’m just going to thrive, grow, laugh, and enjoy in different places. I didn’t retire. I repotted. I’ll bet I do it again.