Reply Hazy, Try Again

Six months ago I retired after forty years as a flight attendant for American Airlines. At first I found myself mildly irritated and without a response when asked by nearly all my non-flying friends, “What are you going to do now?” Somehow the question made me feel guilty. I wanted a break from responsibility, and I certainly felt qualified to relax after forty years of living out of a suitcase and “slinging hash.”

Before going to work for American, I spent two years clerking at the University of Michigan. And before that I worked at a K-Mart store weekends and evenings during high school. At 16, I spent one day scooping ice cream at a Baskin-Robbins store and decided that was not for me when I couldn’t use my right arm for a couple of days afterward. From the age of 12 until I moved away from home at age 20, I babysat for several families and cleaned houses in the neighborhood where I grew up. Tucked in here and there were a couple of years of college, a couple of years of extension university while I followed my husband, the Marine, around the country, and then an immersion into computer classes in the early eighties. The only reason to mention these things is simply to point out that this is my first foray into idleness.

You’ve been a flight attendant for my whole life.

After I announced my intention to retire, my twenty-one year old son asked, “What are you going to BE now? You’ve been a flight attendant for my whole life.” For him, the question was about identity: “My mom is a flight attendant.” I told him I’ll be a retired flight attendant. He bounced back with “I guess instead of being a tired flight attendant, now you’ll be a RE-tired flight attendant.”

Now that I’m RE-tired I’m not tired at all, relatively speaking. I turned sixty-one this past Saturday, so I’m not exactly brimming with youthful energy. I’m sleeping through the night occasionally, my neck and back pain have eased up some, my eyes are no longer bloodshot, and I’m fairly regular. My knees ache less, my feet aren’t swollen, and my hands aren’t chapped and raw from washing them obsessively to ward off strangers’ germs.

Meet the gang.

Several of my friends retired with me. They all were flight attendants for an equal or longer time than I. They all have “things” to do. Judy takes care of her father’s old and ailing friends, along with our own aging and ailing friends. In addition, she rescues homeless cats and feeds and waters strays. She feeds and waters us more or less regularly also. Gail volunteers at her church a couple of days a week and rescues pound puppies. Sandy sews and has joined a Red Hat group that meets for quilting lessons and lunches. Barbara, a widow, volunteers at Ten Thousand Villages and has published a book about her husband’s life. Sonnie and Beverly are battling cancer. Carrol works at a golf pro shop and is caring for her husband in his battle with cancer. Gerry, a two-time cancer survivor, just buried her mother and buried her husband two years ago.

Like most senior baby boomers, we also have cataracts and glaucoma, high blood pressure, elevated cholesterol, osteoporosis, and sleep apnea within our circle, along with many other age-related aches, pains and medical problems. Almost all have lost at least one parent and most of us have lost both of them. We bought retirement annuities with our already floundering 401k’s, only to have the recent economic nose-dive drag our retirement funds down with it. Like countless others, we console and comfort ourselves with the notion that “everyone’s in the same boat.” We drink some.

Mandatory retirement.

I loved my job for most of my 40 years at it, but now I’m at the threshold of old and way past the peak of youthful energy. I have been enjoying a brief period of no time-clock punching, no responsibility for the care and feeding of hundreds of tired, hungry and often angry customers, no tension over recurrent tests and aircraft evacuation drills to stay qualified to keep my job, and no schedule-juggling uncertainty about holidays and important family times.

Since the nation’s economic meltdown last October, most of my contemporaries are still working and many plan to go to age sixty-six, or beyond, if they’re bodies hold up. For many years, when people asked “at what age do flight attendants have to retire?” my wise-cracking reply was: “at death.” We haven’t had a mandatory retirement age since the 1970’s; we can keep flying until we are no longer able to spring from a jumpseat and evacuate a plane-full of people. Thanks to our economy, “at death” may no longer be a joke to many of my contemporaries.

Prior to October, 2008, “what are you going to do now?” was usually a question about travel plans, hobbies or volunteer work after retirement. Now when we gaze into the Magic 8-Ball, the answer is “reply hazy, try again.” Having said all this, Life is darned good and my next post will introduce one local group and how they cope—and help me cope.

In the meanwhile check out this fun video from CNN.

Donna