My husband loves this chair. I have stuffed it away in sad corners, but it always manages to make its way to a more public and useful place. I have threatened to sell it or to give it to Goodwill, but I have decided that I value my marriage more. This time I made a place for it right away, in my study, where my husband can read, rest, watch, or comment while I blog or work on my latest craft project. And so I celebrate compromise, resilience, and a long marriage by allowing this chair in my own space! Now if I can only convince Tom to have it recovered!
Maybe we hang on to these things because life itself is so unpredictable. We thought that our move to Atlanta would be our last move until retirement, that we would have a cool, urban place for our college-age children to return to and to call home. But our married life of almost 33 years has been one move after another, moves which we have decided to take upon ourselves, seeking better prospects or more amenable accommodations and surroundings or moves that have been forced on us by circumstances, such as layoffs, budget crises, and uncertain economic times. However, there is no exceptionalism in these experiences; American society has been a mobile one since its inception. My husband often reminds me of an article he read the year he finished his Ph.d. at Louisiana State University. The author predicted that college graduates of that year would move an average of seven times over the course of their working lives. We have met that average. Our experience is not uncommon, particularly in these unsettling times. Though the unemployment rate has recently dropped below 9%, millions of Americans are still seeking jobs, and college students can't find jobs comparable to their skills and education. Again and again, I read of college students who graduate with huge debts, who expect to spend the rest of their lives paying off the debt they incurred in order to achieve that degree. Is it worth it?
We face this question--is it worth it?--as our oldest child heads off to graduate school and our youngest child begins her second year as an undergraduate in the fall. Our son was admitted to all four aerospace engineering schools to which he applied, but it looks like the choice he will make will be the one that's less expensive. The school he has chosen--the one he attended as an undergraduate--is a great school, ranked in the top 20 aerospace programs; at least one of the other, more expensive schools is ranked in the top 10. Does that difference matter? Is it worth it to shackle one's future to a huge debt? We think not, but only the future will determine whether or not our son has made the right decision. And isn't that the case for every decision that we make? We just do the best we can with the cards we've drawn from the stack.
What I do know is that we're not ready to make that recliner our permanent seat in our new home. For our generation and generations to come, retirement will be pushed further and further away unless one belongs to that lucky 1% of Americans who own 40% of the nation's wealth. The recliner will just be a respite from life's difficulties, not a permanent refuge.
But today I read an article in which a doctor describes research that suggests resiliency is the characteristic we most need in order to achieve a healthy old age. He has patients who are over 100 who have full mental capacity. What characteristics seem to have served them well? The ability to overcome serious setbacks without whining, to face those difficulties with a deprecating sense of humor, and to move on. These we can all practice to achieve. And life does seem to be providing us with plenty of opportunities to practice!
And so I welcome this change even though it was not one of my making or choosing.
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