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Empty Nest Magazine
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Three Wise Men and an Old Dog by James D. Porterfield I won't even ask if this sounds familiar: Children are grown and gone, or in high school with one foot out the door. You are already retired, or at or approaching retirement—both bedazzled and bedeviled by the freedom and opportunity that confront you. If this didn't describe you, you probably wouldn't be reading Empty Nest. What follows is a first-hand account of one person's strategy for taking advantage of an empty nest to—I'm not modest about this, nor am I as grandiose about it as it's going to sound—bring about meaningful and permanent change in an area where the sum of the lessons he’s learned through his life's work can apply. Whew!
A Passion for History To me, the defining element has been teaching—I'm a teacher. Some of that occurred in a classroom. Some of it occurred in a business setting: As a first-level field manager, I was educating my subordinates for advancement. Some of it occurred in my home life, where I was guiding three kids to adulthood. And some of it is on paper—a friend who taught English at NYU said I'd found the perfect form of teaching by becoming a writer: There are no papers to grade. But I'm also a sales and marketing guy, someone who finds challenge in making sales, comfort in holding a scorecard (performance against goal), and satisfaction in the personal and financial rewards that come with success. Within that framework—history buff, educator and marketer, looking at the dwindling number of residents in my home, harboring a strong desire to move to the beautiful state of West Virginia (it started when I sold college textbooks in the 1970s and traveled to the state regularly), and seeking that elusive "capstone" career—the need to plan for and exercise control over the undertaking was obvious. But how do you turn it—your newfound freedom, a desire to make a difference, and a belief that one key to healthful longevity is to remain active and engaged—into something real? Something manageable? Something fun? Spoiler Alert: Always fascinated by trains and having written much about them through the years, I decided to establish an organization devoted to attracting and preparing young people for a career in railway heritage tourism management, to help those organizations and communities that rely on their railway heritage for part or all of their economic development realize greater benefits from their resources, and to provide ways for the growing portion of our population that participates in heritage tourism to experience more insight into and fun from our railway heritage.
The First Wise Man
• Quadrant I: the things we do that are Important and Urgent— manage crises, meet deadlines, fight fires— and where we spend much of our time; In addition to re-reading Covey’s book, I bought an audio/book version and patted myself on the back while listening to it in the car, thus suppressing a Quadrant IV impulse to fill drive time with "Not Important/Not Urgent" activities like listening to ESPN on Sirius. The fruitful outcome of this activity, drawing from my experience as a teacher, a marketing practitioner, and a writer (if you check my website you'll see that much of my output deals with what I refer to as "railroad culture"— not technology stuff but social contributions), was to establish the Center for Railway Tourism at Davis & Elkins College in Elkins, West Virginia. Now there is an organization—located at a respected and accredited four-year institution of higher education—that can attract academics, consultants, practitioners, suppliers, AND undergraduates. The Center addresses the looming critical shortage in qualified managers for those institutions devoted to railway heritage preservation and tourism, and the corollary economic development communities housing such institutions rely on. Happily, this meant elevating Covey's Quadrant II items— building and strengthening relationships, recognizing new opportunities, re-invention, and planning— to the Quadrant I Important/Urgent status. Another factor contributing to this elevation— one not mentioned by Covey— is my age: 71. I recall hearing someone remark recently that those who embark on life-changing, post-retirement endeavors are in the same position as the Pope: There's nothing after this.
The Second Wise Man I don't recall how I discovered Allen's little book, but I set aside the week of Spring Break in 2011 to do nothing but work my way through it. Allen argues that we live in an age where all the old time-management rules no longer work. We are bombarded by a variety of sources with things to be aware of, to do, to concentrate on, to complete, and more. What makes it worse is that it is balanced on a fluid and slippery surface— our daily life— that contorts continuously. It takes a system to manage all of that, and to-do lists no longer adequately serve that purpose. The crux of David Allen's advice is to "think about things rather than think of them." His process is to first corral all your "stuff," which he defines as "anything you've allowed into your psychological or physical world that doesn't belong where it is, but for which you haven't yet determined the desired outcome and the next action step." Once you gathered all your "stuff" together (mine covered three bookcase shelves), you determine whether each item— be it pens and pencils arrayed on your desktop, a phone message, a budget to finalize, or a book to write—is something you need to take action on. If "no," then toss it or file it in a reminder file. If "yes," then decide whether that action will take less than two minutes —in which case, do it—or more than two minutes. If you estimate the latter, delegate it or schedule “the next action only.” All you can manage are the next actions. That said, although I put the system to full use, I know others who are implementing it in stages, to get best use out of it until he/she can devote the time to collect "everything" and process it. Simply put, use it in any way you can, and if you fall off the wagon, just get back on again. So, whether you “do it,” or put it on your “next actions” list, you free up your mind. You can’t think creatively (i.e., “do work”) if your mind is bogged down with or distracted by thoughts that pop up to remind you of what you need to do next, whether it’s next week or next year. And, believe me, these thoughts pop up regularly and float around in your subconscious—you know they do (make that vet appointment, take dinner out of the freezer, do meeting notes for the club you’re now secretary for)—and they take up real estate in your mind. Capture them, on a post-it note if you need to, and take care of the quick ones right away(the 2-minute rule), or put them on the “next actions” list, so you’re not thinking “of” them. One more thing: Allen recommends getting a desktop “labeling” machine and printing labels for each and every file folder in which you house your “projects.” Do it. Consider it your way of making a commitment to the system. Honestly, I can’t believe I got along all those years without one. And I was a new man at the end of that week. My desk was clean. My projects were all under control. My spirits were the highest they'd been in many years. Even the therapist said his work was done, and he lamented that he didn't seem to have anything to do with it. One result of the control and direction I'd established was the ability to create and sell the concept of the Center for Railway Tourism. I won't say Allen's method is easy. It takes daily attention. In fact, one of the reasons I recently fell into a funk is because I let things get out of control, making more commitments that I can keep (a failing that is common, I'm told, to those of us who have Type-A personalities). That's why I decided not to teach in 2014— to take one major task off my plate.
Allen's book sat right beside me again recently, between Christmas and New Year’s Day, the subject of my undivided attention for the week. The result? I have upgraded and integrated all of my electronic tools— iPhone, iPad, and iMac— and added a new scanner and a new printer, plus a more functional landline telephone for my desk.
The Third Wise Man Besides, I find his observations, which are provided in a daily blog post, uncannily written as if just for me. For example, "Elites . . . are people with a project, individuals who want to do work they believe in, folks seeking to make an impact. Averaging down everything we do so that it becomes cheap and ubiquitous and palatable to all is a hollow goal." Okay, nothing elite about that, really. But he means not everyone is striving to make an impact. Everybody should be, though, and many who do not consider themselves “elite,” probably are. Many of us want to do meaningful things but fear trying, or trying and failing, or trying, failing, and being ridiculed for it. But now’s the time. And if not you, then who? Or, "The magic of this new economy is that instead of your work benefitting a fat cat boss with a mansion and a yacht, your work and your learning benefits you and the people you care about." Or, ". . . if you want to build the intimate circle that lives on favors and gift exchange, don't bring cash. Bring generosity and vulnerability." And finally, "The future isn't so much about absorbing or tolerating change, it's about making change." A little arrogant? Yes. Insightful for our times? You bet, at least for me in what I am trying to do: assist in the implementation of a multi-dramatic changing of the guard. See? I even felt empowered to invent a word: multi-dramatic. Another new trick for this old dog.
Getting Things Done Now if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with a personal trainer. I'm beginning to train for the fact that in four years, when I've reached 75, I plan to ride my bicycle cross-country, retracing the route of the first train to make that transcontinental trek, and note all the ways railroads have influenced the development of our nation and civilization.
LINKS The same is true of Seth Godin's 17 books: Amazon.com for starters. Although it is hard to narrow your choices, the two I favor are Permission Marketing: Turning Strangers into Friends and Friends into Customers, and Tribes: We Need You to Lead Us. Seth Godin's blog on marketing, tribes, and respect posts daily, is brief—one or two minutes maximum—plus pondering, and includes useful links to related blogs in his extensive musings.
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Empty Nest: A Magazine for Mature Families
© 2014 Spring Mount Communications