Being productive. That is the lesson I was taught from a young age. Yes, I had chores to do, although I admit they weren't all that much. I'm not trying to say I had a strict list of daily chores and suffered the consequences if I failed to complete those tasks. And no, I didn't walk to school, uphill both ways, in a blizzard barefoot. Truth is, I had it pretty easy. But still, I was taught to be productive, accomplishing something useful every day. Time is a commodity and not to be wasted. I was not allowed to lie in bed until ten in the morning, just lounge around the house and do nothing. No, I quickly learned a valuable lesson. If you are around people working, they expect you to help them, to join in and contribute. Yes, misery loves company and so do those working.
I have had a job of some description since I was about twelve years old. I was fortunate enough that a family friend owned the gas station. Uncle George, as I called him, allowed me to pump gas at his station. I felt like it was a job anyway. I did usually get a dollar or two for my work. Mostly though I was happy to be around the men and learn about cars. Made you feel grown up. I did feel productive and like I was a help to others. I always had a job! Once I did experience a period of unemployment, but not for very long. I was miserable. I did retire when I reached sixty-three. I haven't held a job since. But I have tried to remain productive. It's a struggle though, as I am not one to volunteer. Having spent twenty years in the service I learned my lesson on that. Never volunteer for anything! There is always a catch. A short term commitment is fine, a well defined task that has an ending, a helping hand. But I will not volunteer to any long term stuff. It wouldn't be right to say I will and then decide I don't. It is also a great way to lose friends and create enemies. Expectations often exceed what I am willing to commit to.
I like to think of these writings as productive. I'm leaving a record of my thoughts and observations for future generations. Perhaps they will produce something constructive. I help out others whenever I can, whenever I am asked. That's productive. Still, I often consider getting a job. I could be the Walmart greeter. But then I realize I'm just not cut out for that job. My face says too much! With what comes through those doors there is bound to be an issue. Also, truth be told, this retirement business isn't too bad a deal. I still get up early and rarely just lie around the house, I stay active, as the commercials call it for us senior citizens. I'm not wearing life alert just yet! It's true when I get down on the floor or the ground for some reason getting back up takes an effort, but I can manage it.
I guess you could say all of that stems from a desire to be needed. Everyone wants to be needed. Everyone wants to feel valuable in some way. Whether it is in what they have to offer or in what they are willing to do, the need exists. Having something to contribute is important. That's the way I feel about it anyway. I can't speak for those willing to simply "skate" through life. That's what we called those not doing their part in the service, skaters. Those willing enough to let others do their work for them.
I'll always find a way to contribute in some fashion. That's what I tell myself. I'm often told to volunteer. I just can't bring myself to that commitment though. It has to be a sincere desire to contribute in order to do that. I haven't found any one thing I am willing to commit too. Hey, even the Navy was a limited gig. I guess I'm just saying I always want to get the job done, to see it to the end. I did quit one job in my life. I handed Lowes their apron and walked out the door! I didn't feel good about it, but it was necessary. Maybe I am ready to just skate, on a part time basis anyway. Being retired means what? Getting tired all over again? That doesn't seem right, but it what the word implies. I guess that's what Geritol is all about. Helps us old people stay awake! We do have to remain active; all the ads say so.
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