In a recent post, I suggested that retirees practice a crucial role: keepers of wisdom. Our own knowledge is valuable, but we can increase that wisdom by listening to other sages. The group I have in mind, from whom we can learn new lessons, is characterized by intuitive, observant, and often free-spirited traits. These keepers of another kind of wisdom? The children.
Spending time with children has helped me value their innocence but also their honesty, their ability to slough off unrealistic societal expectations, and their focus on truly important issues. They also have helped me revise another character flaw that I am working to eliminate: my lack of flexibility.
When I contrast myself with them, I see that I have become opinionated, set in my ways. I value order, everything in its place, blocks and colors stacked neatly in their containers, coloring books lined up on the shelf, hot wheels and legos arranged neatly in divided containers. My grandchildren, on the other hand, like nothing better than blocks toppled from their neat rows, Crayolas peeled and broken, and coloring books face-down, pages spread-eagled on the floor. They prefer hot wheels and legos dumped in jumbled piles, balls ricocheting off walls, dolls without clothes, and puzzle pieces spread at random throughout a room.
Who is right? Surely, order is a commendable, important habit. But if my desire to have objects arranged neatly supersedes my joy of being with these children, I have pushed too far. My own prescription: relax, focus on what really matters, and clean up after they have gone home.
I am often brought short by the observations of my grandchildren, by their honesty and unjaundiced eyes. They do not understand political correctness: they call it as they see it. The youngest do not care what others think of them. They are driven by their own indomitable spirits (at least until the age when peer pressure becomes a factor).
And so, observing them, I have made a list of lessons, habits that they model, ideas that I can incorporate into my retirement. I hope you will add other lessons that you have learned from the children in your lives.
- Spontaneity
- Disorder is ok, even joyful (and its corollary: Knocking blocks down is just as much fun as building towers with them)
- If there is nothing to do, invent something
- Making friends is a priority
- Do what you enjoy and are good at. Don’t do things just to please others.
- Plaids and stripes and flowers can be worn together successfully
- Owning a pet enriches lives, even if it is just a stuffed dog or cat
- The best response is sometimes a blanket and a thumb
- Smile at everyone, but if anyone gets too close, hide behind your mother’s legs
- Buckle up reluctantly – do it because it is safer and it is the law, but do it under protest
- Never walk slowly when you can run instead
- Learn to appreciate the buying power of a quarter
- Be tenacious – if a request is denied, repeat it until the authority gives in
- If you feel like wearing a tiara, wear it
- Peanut Butter
Of course we have things to teach them as well, but one of the joys of retirement is ridding ourselves of what others expect, of capturing the simple unmitigated joy of living that we can see in the children. I can see myself, munching on a peanut butter sandwich, my tiara slightly askew, running to the next escapade. I hope to see you there, in your own plaid and flowered outfit, seeking a new adventure of your own.