When buy and hold isn’t a strategy; learning from Jimmy Carter about activist values
I almost bought Christmas wrapping paper on clearance. I have a life-long habit of buying Christmas trinkets on sale and saving them for the next year.
This time, I actively thought “Will I be here to use this?” The thought stopped me cold. I didn’t buy any clearance items, to move storage from the retail store to my spare room. Mortality has shifted from a theory to a thought that impacts minor decisions.
When I bought a new car two years ago, after my fourteen-year-old vehicle had reached the nickel and dime repair or replace stage, I thought an automobile purchase would be my last new car. It was not a sad acknowledgement, just a realistic assessment that I drive less, and replace cars infrequently.
But have I reached the “don’t buy green bananas” point?
I’m fine, as fine as someone is of advancing age and various ailments and aches and pains. I enjoy this stage of life. I have appointments, social and maintenance, scheduled every week. The maintenance appointments are continuous for my body, mechanical items, and inner me.
I am also reaping the seeds of joy. I see seeds of joy in grandchildren, former employees who run organizations, and friends who read and enjoy books I recommend.
Jimmy Carter as role model
I have been reading about Jimmy Carter and skimmed some books by Jimmy Carter, out of curiosity but also in my memorializing. The assessment of his presidency varies, but almost everybody agrees he was a good human.
I’ve been amazed at how he viewed his 70s, my stage of life. He was just getting started. He had a lot to do. I don’t envy or want to emulate his early morning rising to grapefruit juice (ew and ew) nor his packed schedule at this age, but I love his attitude (The Virtues of Aging by Jimmy Carter).
Plus, as I looked at pictures of his family, I remembered anew what a diverse lot they were — like mine, but eccentric in a different way. Even the photos of his family at the White House look like everybody got dressed up in their Sears best clothing. No slick suit tailoring or designer dresses were evident.
He was an ordinary person who set extraordinary goals, which he achieved. When he announced he was running for President, most people sincerely asked him “of what?” So did the Atlanta newspaper.
Almost eliminate guinea worm? Check. Build a few hundred Habitat for Humanity homes? Check. Win the Nobel Peace Prize? Check.
In his book about aging, he acknowledged he could be defined by what he was doing — birdwatcher, fly fisherman, bicyclist…you get the idea.
I can identify myself by many interests. We get to choose our identity — retiree, grandmother, or senior citizen doesn’t encompass who we are. Not who we were, what job we had, who we used to be, old photographs that are etched in our minds, but who we are.
I thought the young woman with long hair and hippie values was the Self to remember, or maybe the corporate manager was the Self to remember, but a humbling and inspiring realization of retirement has been that I am the person who shows up in the world. Who do you see? Is she kind, funny, grumpy?
Carter was not a great writer, but he wrote over thirty books, more than many people who are defined as writers. Twenty of those books were on the New York Times bestseller lists. His writing is serviceable, but the point is he wrote and sold books and was successful at it.
Positive role models influence us. I have decided to act as if I am just getting started. Too much sitting in my wise woman chair, and I’ll calcify.
If the goals you set are ridiculous, but you reach them, are they ridiculous?
Maybe more of us should find out.
Originally, when asked about goals and visions for the New Year, I scoffed to myself. What do I need goals or visions for? Now I am inspired by how the ordinary person can accomplish extraordinary acts.
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