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MY FAVORITE CLASS freshman year in college was introductory psychology. I found the lectures interesting, the textbook fascinating, and the course much less time-consuming than my engineering classes. Based on my positive experience, I decided I’d take a class called psychology of personality as an elective. What I didn’t realize was that many students considered the professor to be something of an oddball.
My first—and only—day in the class was surreal. The professor kept repeating that his class was “designed to be a real system.” Multiple times, he exclaimed, “The sincere student will experience closure at the conclusion of this real system.”
Apparently, grades for the class weren’t determined on the basis of tests, but on some nebulous project requirement. At the end of the hour, the professor mentioned something about many students being “weirded out” of his classes. That was me. I immediately dropped his class and signed up for economics.
While I never regretted ditching that second psychology class, the professor’s statement about “closure” stuck with me. What was he talking about? It seems closure is a fairly complex concept in psychology. Don’t ask me to explain the intricacies—remember, I dropped the course.
The best working definition I’ve found: “Closure is the sense of resolution or completion of a life event, problem, or situation.” There are several important areas of my life where I’ve desired and, to some degree, achieved closure.
I was a driven student in high school. Good grades and college board test scores were a major part of my adolescent self-image. I achieved my academic goals, finishing high school with a perfect transcript, Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT) scores that exceeded my wildest fantasies, and a hefty college scholarship. I felt closure at graduation, but it was an uncomfortable emotion. For some reason, on that day, the academic achievements for which I’d worked so hard seemed meaningless.
My father died in 2001 and my mother in 2013. I had a good relationship with both of them. Although I grieved their passing, I didn’t feel I had unresolved issues with either. I was able to spend significant time with my father in the months leading up to his death. I asked a lot of questions and wrote down his answers. This process was a blessing that eventually helped me to feel closure in our relationship.
My mother, unfortunately, had dementia for years before she died at age 91. Still, when she died, I did experience closure. I had been grieving the gradual loss of my mom for years, and this was just the final stage.
Another area of my life where closure was important to me was ending my 38-year career with my first employer. For years, I imagined how I might feel on my retirement day. Would it be bittersweet, recalling the emotions I felt at my high school graduation? Would I regret retiring? I almost retired after year 36 to work for another company. The decision, however, didn’t feel right, and I ended up declining the job offer.
When I finally did retire two years later, I was satisfied the time was right. To help further my sense of closure, I wrote a piece looking back on my career and posted it on LinkedIn, later adapting it for a HumbleDollar article. My coworkers also helped me by holding a farewell luncheon.
In addition, they gave me a picture of the nuclear power plant where I’d worked, which they all signed, along with their congratulations and best wishes. Strangely, my last day in the office didn’t generate much emotion. I quietly turned in my computer and drove the familiar route home that I’d traveled almost 10,000 times before.
Psychologist Gene Cohen identified a phase of aging he calls the “summing-up phase.” This phase has been described as “a time of review and resolution and heralds a desire to give back. The review is of one’s life with recognition of its meaning. It is a time of putting photos in albums, of writing memoirs.”
I may be a little young for this phase, which according to Cohen typically occurs between the late 60s and the 80s. Still, I find myself periodically drawn to reflect on the big picture of my life story, which is closer to its end than its beginning. I suspect many of my fellow HumbleDollar writers and readers can relate.
Ken Cutler lives in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and has worked as an electrical engineer in the nuclear power industry for more than 38 years. There, he has become an informal financial advisor for many of his coworkers. Ken is involved in his church, enjoys traveling and hiking with his wife Lisa, is a shortwave radio hobbyist, and has a soft spot for cats and dogs. Check out Ken’s earlier articles.
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This is a timely article for me, Ken. I wrote a piece a few months ago saying that we’re debating between 2025 and 2026 as our retirement target. In some ways, I’ve been waiting for a “sign.” Well, this week, I got one. It’s a long, complicated story, but a corrupt, vindictive administrator is dismantling the department I teach in, moving most instructors elsewhere. Seven of us are being left behind to do—what, we’re not exactly sure yet. All but one of us have tenure so it’s not easy to get rid of us, but we’re kind of like the two teams left behind in the Pac 12 right now.
I’ve swung in my mind this week between “That’s it! I’m OUT after June” to “Hell, no. I have a sabbatical (paid leave) approved for part of next year and financial reasons related to the pension formula to wait until at least 2025 to call it quits.” My husband pointed out that depending how this development plays out, I could end up with very little to do in the next few years and I could just coast, draw my salary, and add to my service credit for my pension. I suspect I’ll take the middle path (2025) because I’m too disgusted and disheartened to go much longer, but it’s an interesting calculation.
On the other hand, I woke up this morning after a nightmare that the office administrator had called me in and told me I was being given two weeks notice and then laid off. (That’s not a thing in academic positions.) In my dream I was saying things like “But—what about my class? I have 72 students and we’re in the middle of the quarter.” And she was like “oh, yeah, I didn’t think of that, maybe we’ll pay you hourly to finish the class.” So I guess things could be worse. At least I still have a few choices. I think so, anyway.
Dana, sorry to hear you have to deal with that disheartening situation. You might regret making a hasty exit in response to the current changes, but it sounds like you are more likely to stick it out until next year. Based on your life situation, holding out two more years is probably not worth it unless something changes for the better at work. I’m sure you will make a wise decision.
Most excellent article. As a senior O-4 in the Coast Guard, I arrived at a relatively small unit on the Oregon Coast. My Commanding Officer (CO) had a retirement ceremony policy that was very simple–either have a formal ceremony, or receive your plaques in the mail. There was no in between. If a retiring member didn’t want a ceremony, they had to report to his office to explain why whereby he would invariably convince them to have the ceremony. After the ceremony, invariably, the retiree would tell the Skipper they were glad they reconsidered because not only was the member honored, his/her family was as well. Typically done on a Friday, the ceremonies were very well done and afterwards liberty was granted making it a feel good event for the whole unit. I was proud to be a part of it and, naturally, when I was a CO I insisted on proper retirement ceremonies.
Thanks for your comments, Patrick. Retirement rituals are a very important part of closure for many of us. A “mail it in” plaque is just a trinket without the associated memories.
Observing the retirements of my seniors and mentors highlights a shift in corporate culture and how retirees are treated. Unfortunately, there seems to be a lack of acknowledgment for their decades of experience and leadership. The departure often occurs without farewells, appreciation emails, or events. Witnessing this absence of recognition is disheartening and serves as a poignant reminder that it’s essential to cultivate a fulfilling life outside of work.
As I start my glide path to retirement, I am realizing that building and nurturing activities and relationships beyond professional settings becomes crucial for a content and fulfilling retirement.
Very true, but let’s keep in mind all that is not the fault of “the Company” which is not a living entity, but rather the fault of the people at all levels who make up that organization. It is a reflection of how society has changed, its declining civility, lack of respect and what we value.
When to retire can be tricky. At age 60 I was ready to go. The dept I managed was a mess. Unhappy internal customers, unhappy employees and my boss was really concerned about all of that. My finances and pension were not at the level I was comfortable with for retirement, so I focused upon fixing all our problems. We were able to turn things around through God’s grace and the commitment of my management team.
Fast forward to age 66. Everything was going great. The county exec said my dept was the best performing dept in the county. For the first time in 22 years, I had delegated most everything to my subordinates. I was in a position where I could have easily cruised for a couple of more years.
However, I felt this was the optimum time to retire while everything was going well. I have no regrets.
Sounds like you successfully threaded the needle, Jerry. Thanks for commenting.
I can relate. I can also feel a difference in attitude since I turned 80 last November. There is a sense of no longer climbing the mountain but a realization it is all downhill at this point which is enhanced by the passing of many younger friends and neighbors. Not depression, but a growing appreciation for everything in my life.
When I retired I was treated poorly, a reflection of the changing organization which was the reason I retired after nearly 50 years..
A few years earlier retiring officers with half my service received expensive gifts, I received nothing. On my last day, not one fellow officer came to say goodbye. Actually I received more well wishes from the various unions I had worked with over the years.
After 14 years retired you can see that treatment is easy to recall, but I don’t dwell on it. Like I said, I’ve climbed the mountain to a height I never imaged as an 18 year old, I achieved every goal I ever had and more.
There is nothing more except to be grateful and give back in our own little ways. I get a bit of pleasure from significantly over tipping servers. So many, especially the older ones, seem to be struggling.
We tip servers very generously, too, even more so since the pandemic. Part of it is that one of our daughters has worked for years as a server, but part of it is just that times are hard and it’s not an easy job.
Dick,
In my book if I were to only receive appreciation from half the company, better to have it from the “average” folk, then the “stuffed shirts”. They are the ones that most likely had their LIVES improved by your career. The executives would be more likely to give grateful to you for improving the COMPANY, and their billfolds more so than their personal lives.
I can tell you that union reps recognize and appreciate when HR is fair and balanced.
I agree.
Dick, I think you are squarely in Cohen’s summing up phase. You obviously have reflected deeply on your journey and give back a lot…not the least of which is through your interesting HumbleDollar articles. I commend your tipping practices. Thanks for commenting.
Yes, I can relate. I find myself with a desire to back out of some of the responsibilities that keep me active, and ready to turn them over to someone else—come what may. Getting closure with a smooth baton pass would be nice, though. But I don’t want to enter permanent reflective mode. Although I don’t see myself starting a new business, I’d like to find a way to remain useful, and perhaps humbly share some wisdom—without becoming an obnoxious old know-it-all.
Ah yes, the fine line between sharing wisdom that is appreciated and being an “obnoxious old know-it-all”. I was always one who liked hearing the old-timers tell stories about days long past, but apparently some folks found it tedious. I hope I can read the room when I am the one telling the tales.
Interesting point. After I fully retired I still received company communications about employee benefits. On occasion I noticed the information was not correct – understandable as the person now in charge was new to the company with no historical perspective.
When I noticed an error I would send a email to the new person. About a year later I was invited to lunch by my old boss. When I arrived she had brought a Company lawyer with her.
The point of the meeting was to tell me to stop communicating with the benefits person or her. When I suggested it was important to correct some of the misinformation, the message was clear, they were not interested, the new person got upset and to mind my own business.
Good grief.
Seems like it would have been easier to just remove you from the email list! Sorry that your knowledge was no longer wanted. We appreciate it here.
Sounds like a place you should be pleased to have in your rearview mirrow!
Only the last three years and the people then in charge ruined the otherwise great experience.