Tag Archives: retirement

local news

No talk of past employment

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on upcoming retirement.

I believe I have crossed another threshold on the way to full-time retirement. It happened earlier today without warning.

This morning I ran into a former colleague — and current friend — while I was running some errands. She and I worked together for quite a number of years at the Amarillo Globe-News.

Then she left the newspaper. My departure would come not too many years later.

Whenever we would see each other, usually at the place where she now works, we would end up talking about so-and-so at our former place of employment; or we would mention something about such-and-such experience we might have shared. And oh yes, we also would exchange a disparaging word — or two … or three — about individuals for whom we share a mutual loathing.

Today? None of that came up. I didn’t even think of mentioning anything about anyone. I don’t know whether any of that was in her head, either.

We talked instead about grandchildren, retirement, Las Vegas (and the prospect of her possibly striking it rich on her next trip to the desert oasis).

Then we said so long. I was on my back home.

So, there you have it. Another hurdle cleared. I wonder at this moment if my friend feels the same way.

local news

Pace of change is accelerating

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on upcoming retirement.

I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but I’m sensing a certain sense of excitement as the pace of change accelerates around our house.

We are preparing for the next — and more than likely final — big step in our journey together. My wife, who’s an expert at house packing, is working hard to get our worldly possessions boxed up, put away and is clearing out rooms.

Do not ask me when the change will occur. I am not prepared to reveal a date-certain. Just know that as we continue this transition, which will include a significant relocation, that we’ve decided to speed the process up.

This might not seem like a big deal to you. It is to me.

I used to dread the idea of moving. That dread stayed with me until we moved from Oregon to Texas in the spring of 1984. We relocated because of a huge job opportunity that emerged on the Texas Gulf Coast. The four of us — myself, my wife and our two young sons — migrated to Beaumont.

The move itself offered a huge personal surprise, apart from the obvious culture shock we felt when we moved from the Pacific Northwest to a region I refer to affectionately as “Baja Louisiana.” The surprise was when I realized my own adaptability.

I had spent my entire life in the Portland area, except for a couple of years in the Army in the late 1960s. When opportunity knocked, I answered the call and responded by uplifting our family and moving them halfway across the country.

We found our way to Amarillo nearly 11 years later. I followed another big career opportunity to the High Plains. Then my career ended more than four years ago. Our transition toward retirement commenced a bit earlier than we anticipated, but we have figured out how to navigate our way toward that end.

We don’t intend to make as lengthy a move this time. It’s big nonetheless.

My tendency to be a stick-in-the-mud is giving way to some serious excitement about the changes that lie ahead.

Who knew?

local news, media news

Comfortable in this retirement skin

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This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on upcoming retirement.

Today is Monday. It’s a “work day” for those who still have to work for a living.

It’s also a day in which I made a realization as I walked down the street to collect my mail, before I ran an errand to purchase a couple of musical tickets for my wife and me. It was the realization that I do not miss going to work each day.

I am now entirely comfortable in my retirement skin.

I still work a part-time job. There might be another one resurfacing down the road. However, the idea hit me like a slap in the face today that I no longer miss the daily grind, the deadline pressure associated with the craft I pursued for 37 years.

I damn sure don’t miss the phone calls from those who dislike something I wrote, some of which ended with someone impugning my integrity, my patriotism … and even my religious faith.

Daily journalism delivered many gifts to my family and me over many years. It enabled me to do something I still love to do, which is to share my opinions with others and to write editorials on behalf of the newspaper for which I worked. It provided me with a comfortable living — even as I was forced to take two cuts in pay during the latter years of my employment as my corporate employer struggled to rid itself of the mountainous debt it had accrued.

My job gave me the opportunity to see and do things most folks don’t often get to do: landing atop an aircraft carrier and then being catapulted off the deck is one of those things; flying over an erupting volcano is another; attending and reporting on two presidential nominating conventions ranks up there, too.

That’s all in the past. I remember the vast bulk of my career with great fondness. The final years? Well, not so much. The end of it and how it occurred? Not at all.

These days I am free to run errands during the middle of the work day, in the middle of the week. My wife and I avoid the crowds that way, you know?

This new life also enables me share these views with you on this blog, which keeps me — more or less — in the game, such as it is.

More travel awaits, too.

Yes, this retirement life is getting more fun all the time.

media news, national news

Retirement won’t mean disengagement

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on upcoming retirement.

As I listen daily — and nightly — to news about the state of our national government under Donald J. Trump, I might be tempted to shuck it all when my bride and I hit the road during our retirement years.

Full-time retirement, I caution you, won’t mean full-time disengagement from the world that continues to swirl around us.

The former — full-time retirement — is approaching at a quickening pace. The latter, well, won’t change once we cross that threshold.

The only difference might lie in that as we travel a good bit more in our RV, we’ll be visiting portions of North America that don’t share the groupthink that is so prevalent in the Texas Panhandle. As such, my intention will be to talk to those we meet as pass through their communities. I hope to glean from them their view of the world.

We’ve had the joy of traveling some already in our RV, which we’ve owned for a couple of years. This past autumn, we took our longest trip — distance-wise — to southwestern South Dakota. It gave us a hint of the adventure that awaits us as we tool our way across two massive nations: the United States and Canada.

Along the way, I intend to be connected fully to the world.

Tempting as it might be — such as it is at this moment as the “news” is broadcast in the background of my home office — I won’t toss it all aside. I suppose you could say I am not wired simply to toss it all aside while we simply travel, kick off our shoes and not have a care in the world.

Modern technology has advanced to where we expect to be connected every mile of our journey. I intend fully to use that technology to keep this blog blazing away with praise where it’s warranted and, oh, criticism where that, too, is deserved.

I hope you’ll join us on our ride throughout North America.

local news

Clearing another barrier toward full-time retirement

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on upcoming retirement.

LAREDO, Texas — My wife and I have crossed another barrier that once stood between us and this new life called “full-time retirement.”

While vacationing in South Texas, we began plotting our next RV adventure.

Yep. We weren’t finished enjoying our most recent journey — this time to Laredo — and we began thinking about how we are going to map out our next trip.

It will occur soon. We intend to end up in Ruidoso, N.M., by way of the Texas Hill Country.

But we have a really, really big trip already lined out for a period after the Ruidoso jaunt.

My point here is that we are enjoying the fifth wheel and seeing these new places so much that we cannot stop thinking about when we’re going to do so again.

I am going to presume this is a normal transition. It does feel right, although I am mindful of the need to live in the moment.

My late mother used to remind me of the dangers of “wishing your life away,” which I used to do when I was a boy. “Gee, Mom, I wish the weekend would hurry up and get here,” I would say, only to get that pearl of wisdom from my mother.

I might be reverting to those boyhood ways. I don’t care. We’ll keep planning our next adventure before we finish the current one.

business news, local news

No longer working for a living … but still in the game

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This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on upcoming retirement.

It has been four years and nearly six months since I quit my job at the Amarillo Globe-News.

I didn’t expect to resign when I did. Circumstances forced me to walk away from a career — and a craft — I had enjoyed to the fullest for nearly 37 years.

As sad as I was at the moment, I am spending far less time looking back and more time looking forward. The next big adventure awaits my wife and me as we continue this transition toward another full-time gig: retirement.

However, I want to share a gratifying experience that keeps repeating itself as I continue to work part-time as a customer concierge at Street Toyota in Amarillo.

I wear a name badge at work. I greet customers when they come into our service waiting area. I ask them if there’s anything I can do for them to make them comfortable: Do they need a ride somewhere while their vehicle is being serviced? Do they want something to drink while they wait? Those kinds of things.

Then I get one of those glances from customers who look at my name, look me in the eye and they might say something like: “John Kanelis … where do I know that name? Your name and face look familiar. Where did you retire from?”

I tell them I worked for nearly 18 years at the G-N. I wrote a column each week for the Opinion page and I edited the page and wrote editorials.

“Oh yeah! Now I remember!” comes the response.

“Are you still writing?” the customer might ask. “Oh yes, absolutely,” I tell them.

I told someone today that I intend to write for as long as I am able. Some folks actually ask me why. Why do you keep writing? My stock answer: It’s what I do.

I suppose this is my way of telling readers of this blog that I’ll keep pounding away for as long as I have most of my marbles and as long as I can instruct my fingers to write the sentences that pop into my noggin.

Plenty of you are kind enough to read and to respond. I don’t expect to please everyone who reads my musings. That’s all right, too. I got into the business of print journalism understanding that everyone’s values differ and they inform their own world view — just as my values have informed my own.

No sweat. Just keep bearing with me as we all march on down the road together.

Once I become a full-time retiree, I do not expect to suspend my desire to keep sharing my thoughts with you here. I will be retired, but I don’t intend to check out anytime soon.

local news

Transition quickens toward next step on our journey

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on upcoming retirement.

The pace toward full-time retirement is quickening.

I’m getting more ready for it to arrive.

For the time being I’m now down to just one part-time job. A second part-time gig has been put on hold; I have been told it might be reactivated, perhaps soon. I am keeping my options open.

At the risk of getting the bum’s rush out of Dodge, I need to explain why the pace is speeding up a bit.

We’re packing up our house. More to the point, my wife is doing the packing. She’s really good at this stuff. I’m a bit of a stick-in-the-mud. We’ve made no secret of our desire to relocate. That day is coming along. Our family is aware of our plans and some of our closest friends have been given a detail or two of what we intend.

But listen up … please. That moment is not yet on the horizon. We aren’t moving in the next 45 minutes. We’re just preparing to take one final huge step in our life’s journey together.

We’re in our 60s. We have good health. We have lots of things we want to do. We have many places we want to see. We have the time, the inclination and the energy to haul our fifth wheel around the continent — and that is precisely what we intend to do.

Our journey together has taken us to 47 of the 50 states and a handful of Canadian provinces. We’ve been able to travel abroad to Asia, Central and South America, Europe and the Middle East (which, yes, is part of Asia). There’s always been a time limit, however. Work awaited back home.

We’re looking forward now to taking more time on the road and exploring some of the grandeur that surrounds us in North America. We have some family responsibilities to clear up.

The road ahead, though, is starting to clear out.

We hope to be ready soon to see what lies ahead.

business news

Fed up with poor service!

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This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on upcoming retirement.

I made a personal pact not too many years ago to speak out when I get treated badly when I do business with someone.

Maybe it’s just because I am getting older — and as I draw closer to full-time retired status — which entitles me to some degree of crotchetiness.

The “service industry” has its name for a purpose: it is to inform those who work in that particular industry to provide good service to those with whom they are interacting.

That’s a simple concept to grasp, right? Right!

An event occurred some years ago that gave me the impetus to make the pact. I walked into an Amarillo coffee shop — I won’t mention which one — and apparently caught the barista in the middle of a very bad moment, or perhaps a bad day. He was rude to the max. I finished my transaction, walked out, went home — and then wrote a letter to the store manager complaining about the barista’s treatment of good ol’ yours truly. The manager responded with a note of his own — accompanied by a hand-written apology by the barista.

I’ve on occasion — along with my wife — verbalized displeasure with service. I have learned, as I’ve grown a bit older, that it’s a pretty painless endeavor.

Yesterday, it happened again. I went to a fast-food joint to make a small purchase. This place, too, shall remain anonymous. The young woman who took my order was, shall we say, apparently unhappy to take my money and provide me with the meal I had ordered.

No “thank you, sir.” No welcoming facial expression. No “Welcome, how may I help you?” Nothing, man!

I paid for my order, went home, consumed my lunch, and then wrote the store manager a note — which I just mailed this morning.

I’ve found these exercises to be somewhat cathartic. They are cleansing. They give me some emotional relief.

I don’t intend to make big deals of these encounters moving forward. My thought today is just to share with you the satisfaction one can get just by expressing oneself candidly.

Don’t misunderstand. I’m not going to be firing off missives at every single slight. I’ll do it only when someone inflicts such a slight on me when I’m in no mood to take it.

local news

No longer out of sorts during the day

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on upcoming retirement.

I was walking down the street this afternoon toward the cluster of mailboxes in our neighborhood when the thought occurred to me: No longer do I feel strange puttering around the house at mid-day during the middle of a work week.

I think I’ve turned yet another corner. Actually, I likely turned that corner some time ago, but the thought came to mind consciously this afternoon.

It wasn’t always the case.

I worked for a living until I was 63 years of age. Then it ended. Quickly, although not without some warning. I smelled something fishy when my boss announced in the summer of 2012 a “company reorganization” at the Amarillo Globe-News. The smell grew more pungent when, after applying to keep doing the job I had held at the paper for nearly 18 years, a former colleague and I were called back for a “second interview.”

Then the news came from the guy who held a newly created title at the paper: the vice president for audience. “There’s no easy way to say this, but we’ve offered your job to someone else. He accepted,” this VP for audience told me one morning.

I walked out of the building, bid goodbye to a couple of friends, came back the next day, cleared out my office … and resigned.

For some time after that — even as my wife and I departed for a vacation on the East Coast and then returned home — I would feel a strange sense of disorientation. Suddenly, I wasn’t busy during the work week. I was free to come and go pretty much as I pleased. It felt strange.

I got over it fairly soon after the end of my working life.

Since then I’ve learned there truly is life after full-time work.

I have just turned 67. Full-time retirement is still a ways off. It’s coming on, though. I’m quite prepared emotionally for the moment it arrives.

I know this because my disorientation has vanished.

local news

Full-time blogging is just so much fun

retirement.pic_

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on upcoming retirement.

I feel compelled to give you an update on the status of this blog.

I call it High Plains Blogger because that’s where I live: on the High Plains of the Texas Panhandle; the Llano Estacado; or what I call — with great affection, of course — the Texas Tundra.

I created it in 2012 after leaving a career in daily print journalism. The end of that career came rather quickly. It wasn’t how I envisioned a nearly 37-year career would end. I’ve told folks for years now that all I wanted was a going-away party, with a sheet cake and frosting that had a message wishing well and thanking me for a job well done.

It didn’t happen that way … but what the hey, that’s life, man.

I created this blog and was able to transfer a lot of the blogging I’d done at the Amarillo Globe-News into High Plains Blogger’s archives.

My traffic of late has shown tremendous growth. Indeed, over the lifetime of High Plains Blogger my daily “hits” — which include page views and something called “unique visitors” — has increased about five-fold.

https://highplainsblogger.com/

It’s not where I want it just yet, but it’s creeping its way toward a more acceptable level. I don’t have an end point. I haven’t said, “When it gets to a certain level, I think I’ll cap it right there.” Oh, no. You can’t have too many readers, too many followers, too many people willing to offer comment.

My intention is to keep self-promoting whenever I feel it is appropriate. Today seems like an appropriate time to call attention to this blog.

Full-time blogging is far more fun than I ever imagined it would be. Yes, I enjoyed writing for The Man. I did it for nearly four decades. I enjoyed some success. I had a hiccup or two along the way.

All told, it was a career made more fun by the people I have encountered along the way and some of the amazing things I was able to do: Flying over an erupting volcano in March 1980 on a picture-taking mission was one of them; landing on the deck of a U.S. Navy aircraft carrier in 1993, the USS Carl Vinson, and then being catapulted off the deck is another.

Blogging, though, is a new career I intend to pursue for as long as I can as I enter full-time retirement. You see, this full-time blogging pursuit is something that co-exists quite nicely with full-time retirement. Neither title — blogger and retiree — is mutually exclusive.

So, with that, I say “thank you” to those who read this blog regularly and to those who have offered comment. Yes, I even want to thank the critics. You know who you are. I try my best not to take it personally, as long as the criticism doesn’t call me nasty names.

Let’s enjoy the ride for as long as we can.