Retirement on his-and-hers Harleys

April 13, 2006

Dear Leslie,

On the drive out to our friend Danny's lakeside retirement party, DC and I talked about why we're still earlobe-deep in work and Danny's waking up whenever he wants and wondering what to do that day.

Danny was a year behind us in high school. He got married, had a daughter, got divorced. Along the way he landed a job with the local utility company and stuck with them.

DC and I planned for retirement like most people in our generation. We didn't. In our 20s we never thought about how fat a meagerly fed 401(k) account would be today. In our 30s we tried out different jobs in California and elsewhere, looking for something that felt like a fit. She went back to school. We found each other in our 40s and figured out we needed and wanted to be back home.

Now in our 50s, we occasionally discuss what we'd do if we could afford to retire. DC would be an artist. Go ahead, I tell her, don't wait for whatever you're waiting for.

Like lots of other people, DC and I spent the early part of our adulthoods trying to figure out who we were, and maybe we're still at it. Danny seemed to know himself already. Now he's a retiree, a two-time grandfather but not the rocking chair variety.

We'd heard Danny and his girl Jill were planning a motorcycle trip through the West this summer. They have his-and-hers Harleys.

Danny and Jill served up barbecue to the crowd, and two rock 'n' roll bands set up their amps and instruments. DC and I walked Danny's grandson, Dylan, down to the lake to feed the ducks. It was an idyllic day.

How idyllic we little knew.

Just before the River Cats were due to start playing, Jill and Danny called everyone into the building to see a short skit. What would a retirement party be without poking fun at the guest of honor's future life of Riley?

Only this skit looked a lot like a scene from a wedding. It was.

The bride and groom, the best man, maid of honor and the minister were the only ones in on the plan. As the sun set over the lake, the rest of us -- the bride's parents and the groom's daughter included -- speechlessly watched Danny and Jill get married.

Locally well-known artist/conga player/editorial cartoonist/mail-order minister Don Greenwood performed the ceremony. The Rev. Greenwood started with an Apache prayer that began: "Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other. Now there will be no loneliness , for each of you will be companion to the other ... May happiness be your companion and your days together be good and long upon the earth."

Danny told me he doesn't know what he'll do in retirement. That's to be seen. But being long upon the earth he has discovered that nothing compares with someone to shelter and warm you and keep you company.

Love,

Sam

Sam Blackwell is managing editor of the Southeast Missourian.