Old Guys

September 12th, 2023

I got together yesterday with two former coworkers. All three of us are retired, and we decided to go out for lunch. We met at Hiawatha, a bar and grill next to the railroad tracks in Sturtevant. The tavern is named after the original Hiawatha, a passenger train that decades ago traveled on those tracks between Milwaukee and Chicago. Amtrak still has a commuter train with that name, but it has nothing of the grandeur of the old Hiawatha line.

The bar itself is nothing fancy. At noon on a Monday, it was almost empty. Dan and Danny were there when I showed up. Dan was a driver at the trucking company where we worked. Danny worked with me on the loading dock. He drove a forklift. We had spent nearly thirty years together at the same place. That’s remarkable, even for an old guy like me. Nowadays, nobody works anywhere for three decades. Most people from my children’s generation barely stay at a job for more than a couple years. Dan, Danny, and I share a lot of history.

Over glasses of beer, we started talking about current events. We talked about our grandkids, about sports, and about health issues. The topic of getting rid of mice in the house came up. Each of us had a story concerning that. As time went on, the conversation drifted toward events in our past, as that sort of discussion inevitably does.

I’m not sure of the value of recalling times gone by. It’s not like any of us said, “Those were the good old days”, because they weren’t. Mostly, they were days of struggle, both physical and mental. None of us would go back to that environment, well, not in a material way. However, we went back there in our words and thoughts.

We told stories. Some were funny. Some were sad. Some were both. We had all worked for a corporation that was crazy and ruthless. For my part, I found it difficult to retain my humanity during all those years. I think everyone who worked at that place left damaged in some regard. The money was good, but the work ravaged a person’s body and soul.

We spoke of many people in the past tense. A large number of our fellow coworkers have died. Some made to retirement, some didn’t. Some of them we miss. Some of them we don’t. We talked about other colleagues who are still alive, but disabled from the work they did. For the most part, Danny, Dan, and I are enjoying our retirement. We know some people who aren’t.

Retirement is a funny thing. It is advertised as a golden age, a time when a person can sit back and enjoy the fruits of their labors. To a certain extent that is true. However, even though the old job is gone, other challenges rear their heads. I never expected to be raising at toddler at the age of sixty-five. That wasn’t part of my plan. Danny and Dan have also had surprises come their way. Life still goes on, just with a different set of circumstances.

Danny made the comment before we left the bar that we three had it pretty good. He’s correct. There are many people in this world, probably the vast majority, who can never retire. They will work until they drop. We somehow managed to save enough money to set aside our tools and do other things. By God’s grace, we still have our health. I don’t think it was because we were more moral than others, or smarter than them. I think we just got lucky.

I am grateful for that.