Thinking On Retirement

 Among our party that went on our hike last week, there was a gentleman from Out East that turned a year older in his early 70's on the trail. Besides being in great health (he had been going to the Grand Canyon for 5 decades, but thought that given muscle atrophy and balance issues this might be his last "Back Country" hike - but I doubt it), he had a small coterie of interests that he followed.

In chatting with him and his adventures (he is in the process of finishing up the Appalachian Trail), he comment that when he was in his early 60's he retired rather abruptly due to a work related issue.  "Best decision I ever made" was his comment, and 10 years on looking at him there was nothing that I could hear or see to disagree with it.

As some shared readers may also know, FOTB (Friend Of This Blog) Old AFSarge from Chant De Dupart has also spent the better part of a year learning to be retired. It has been an interesting journey as a third party reading his thoughts, especially about the falling out of and falling into rhythms.

Why this sudden reflection on retirement?  Going completely away for a week will do that to you.  There is something about standing in the grandeur of God's creation, surrounded by wind and silence, that makes one think "Next week I have to be back arguing about language in documents for things that likely will never be read again".

It can be a compelling thought, if you think about it long enough.

In one way, I have "reached" the spot in my career that is probably the spot I always belonged in:  the seasoned old guy who has seen almost every aspect of the industry, is the holder of some level of industry institutional knowledge, has no interest or illusions about moving up the corporate ladder, and in some ways is a sort of "Senior Stateman".  It is not quite the same as the group of guys drinking coffee every morning at the local café dispensing wisdom and weather complaints, but it is as likely as I am to get to it in the employed world.

And yet...and yet, every day I have to finish here on the computer writing, put aside the sad looks of A the Cat and J the Rabbit, and get ready to go do battle again at tasks not of my choosing.  An 8 hour chunk out of my day is pretty inconvenient at best.

Am I ready to retire?  Financially probably not, although I am going to press into our Financial Folks a little more directly when we meet with them in December - not just the "Yeah, it is a thing I would like to do" but "How soon could it happen?  What could I do now to make it happen sooner?"

I do not know that turning mid 70's on the trail is a specific goal of mine, but being in the condition to do it and having the time to get there is something that strikes me as more and more desirable.

Book Review: The Last Days of Socrates

One of the great issues in my mind about a general dearth of knowledge on and thoughts about philosophy is the fact that, on the whole, philosophy is presented in either isolated parts or large chunks of reading that manage to convey nothing of actual philosopher themselves.  Philosophers - at least the Ancient ones which I read - are best approached almost in a sort of "pop-star" approach.  

For example, if I had started reading Epictetus the Stoic Philosopher (A.D. c. 50 - 135) by starting with his Discourses instead of his much shorter and more pithy Enchiridion, I likely would have never been as taken with him as I am.  In the same vein, had I started with some other work of Lucius Annaeus Seneca ( 4 B.C. - A.D. 65) other than Letters from a Stoic, I would have never had the pleasure of coming to appreciate his works (nor would I have had a main character for The Collapse!).

Similarly, I would not have truly discovered Socrates had I not started with The Last Days of Socrates

(Author's photo of his edition - Apparently they issued a new cover.)

Socrates (c. 470 B.C. - 399 B.C.) is probably the best known of the Ancient Greek philosophers by name, even in our age.  A citizen of the Athenian Democracy, we actually do not know a great deal about him as he himself wrote nothing that is preserved.  What we do know is a short line of him from a play of the playwright Aristophanes (The Clouds) and what was written about him by two of his disciples, Plato and Xenophon, who themselves could not agree in their descriptions of him:  Xenophon tends to paint him in a light not nearly as interesting as that of Plato, who paints a picture of a man who is self-effacing, claims ignorance yet through his claims elucidates his opponent's beliefs and positions, is fearless in his criticism of all sides, and always claims to be seeking truth.

Plato presents Socrates through a series of dialogues, typically between Socrates and those who have brought him a question or whom somehow becomes engaged with.  In The Last Days of Socrates, we are given four of the dialogue, which represent the last part of Socrates' life when - in 399 B.C. - he was sentenced to die by a court in Athens for accusations of impiety.  Rather than try to escape, he accepted the laws of Athens and the judgment of the court and voluntarily consumed hemlock as his sentence.

The four dialogues - Euthryphro, The Apology, Crito, Phaedo - deal with Socrates' last days and are linked through his trial and impending death. In Euthryphro, he deals with the nature of impiety, something that will become relevant in his defense before the court in The Apology  In Crito, he walks through with an old friend why he feels himself bound by the laws to remain and accept the sentence of the court rather than escape.  And in Phaedo, we walk through Socrates' facing of death and his belief in the afterlife and the implementation of the sentence of death.

At 180 pages (plus notes), the book is a short, solid, and reasonable introduction to Plato and Socrates.  Some quotes from the various dialogues:

"The truth of the matter is this, gentlemen,.  Where a man has once taken his stand, either because it seems best to him or in obedience to his orders, there I believe he is bound to remain and face the danger, taking no account of death or anything else before dishonor." - The Apology

"No man on earth who conscientiously opposes either you or any other organized democracy, and flatly prevents a great many wrongs and illegalities from taking place in the state to which he belongs, can possibly escape with his life.  The true champion of justice, if he intends to survive even a short time, must necessarily confine himself to private life and leave politics behind." - The Apology

"Well, really Crito, it would hardly be suitable for a man of my age to resent having to die." - Crito

"I only wish that ordinary people had an unlimited capacity for doing harm; then they might have an unlimited power for doing good; which would be a splendid thing, if it were so.  Actually, they have neither.  They cannot make a man wise or stupid; they simply act at random." - Crito

"In that case, my dear fellow, what we ought to consider is not so much what people in general will say about us but how we stand with the expert in right and wrong, the one authority, who represents actual truth."  - Crito

"No, you must keep up your spirits and say that it is only my body you are burying; and you can bury it as you please, in whatever way you think proper. - Phaedo

If you are looking to find an introduction to Greek Philosophy or a simply meet a fascinating individual (whether he is as he was or partly imagined), I cannot imagine a better volume to start with.  

The Collapse CCVII: Death And Mending Fences

 16 December 20XX+1

My Dear Lucilius:

We were startled this morning by a knock at our door. Imagine my surprise to find one of our Erstwhile neighbors on my doorstep. His hands were plainly in view, breath steaming away from the pulled up edges of the jean rancher jacket into the crisp and cloud free morning air.

“There has been a death” he said flatly.

I nodded back. I had been expecting something like this to start sooner or later.

In a few minutes I was out with him, trudging back through the snow on a path beaten down by his coming. Pompeia Paulina I had sent off with the snowshoes to get Young Xerxes and whomever else he could rouse in short order. The walk itself was silent, the crunch of boots on snow, breaths hissed in and out like steam engines.

We wound our way through the streets of Birch, existing paths more clearly laid out in the midst of the snow – but even with that, the lifting and setting of feet, the brushing through of those holes as they merged together into a path...I hate the snow at times, Lucilius, for all that I moved here willingly.

By the time we arrived at the house – a house I recognized a little too well, that of Terentia, the wife of the man shot by Cataline in self defense– a small crowd had gathered, both of our Erstwhile neighbors as well as Young Xerxes and a few of his volunteers. I pushed through the circle, as much as through assuming I could do so as any moral authority I might still hold with everyone here: the last thing that was needed was a fight in the snow.

Inside, a smaller group was there. I recognized some of Terentia’s family and The Fashionable Woman from the trial. They were weeping, but stopped long enough to give me a cold stare as I went by through the hall into a bedroom.

There, in bed, was Terentia.

Death had found her, it seemed, at night: she lay under covers, one eye closed and the other one bolt open looking up the ceiling. I forced myself to check her with a touch (How much I hate the thought of touching the dead, Lucilius): cold and unyielding. Whatever had happened – my guess would be some kind of heart attack; I had seen similar cases long ago – it had happened some hours ago.

The man I remembered as her son came in. We nodded at each other, then looked at his mother.

“Thoughts?” he quietly said.

“Likely a heart attack or some such thing” I responded. “It was quick.” We stood in silence for moments longer, the wails of the mourners filling the background.

I looked straight at him. “Any particular reason you called for me?”

He stared straight back. “Mostly to let you know it happened and make clear – to you, to me, to everyone – that it was a natural death, not something that was contrived or carried out. Things are already tense enough.”

I nodded back. “Will you need anything from me, or us?”

He shook his head. “No. We can bury our own dead.”

We stood there in silence together for a few more minutes. “My condolences” I said as I started to turn to leave.

“You know” he said as I started to trail from the room, “she never blamed you in the end. Although she refused to really confront the truth about my father, she eventually got over you. She was just too proud to tell you so.”

I turned to look back at him and then, on a whim, offered him my right hand, which he took. “Sometimes we can all be too proud to take the first step”, I responded.

The trip back to The Cabin was quiet, Pompeia Paulina giving me the space to think through what I had seen. As Young Xerxes and Statiera peeled off to go back home, I suggested perhaps he and a couple of his friends offer to help with relocation of the body.

It is never too late, Lucilius, to try to mend fences.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca

2025 Cambodia And Vietnam: Street Art III

 More art at the Factory Phnom Penh:

The most important part of any mural:  A rabbit!

Another rabbit! 

The end of our tour included a cocktail at a place that would not have been out place in a Bob Hope and Bing Crosby "Road To..." movie.  My was a lavender concoction that was quite delicious.

Seen in the restroom.  Like other places we have traveled recently, plumbing is a bit of a fragile thing.  This place, at least, had a hilarious take on it:

2025 Cambodia And Vietnam: Street Art II

 A second stop on our Street Art tour was Factory Phnom Penh was a former Levi factory (yes, as in those Levi's) that was converted into a hopeful sort of eclectic open arts and destination location in 2018. 

Entering The Factory gives a real sense of the contrast one can find in Phnom Penh:

The art begins:

Apartments.  Per our guide, a lot of this is funded by Chinese corporations:

Some of the art is pulled from Buddhism:

Grand Canyon 2025: The Return

 Friends, after flying halfway across the country, a total of 18 hours driving, walking around 23 miles with a descent of 8500' (and the corresponding 8500' ascent) 5 blisters and a ripped toenail (ironically not injured on the hike but the day after by slamming into a furniture leg), I have returned more or less intact.  With something like 400 pictures and a great deal to think about, a full accounting will have to wait (inevitably pushing into the Travel in Cambodia and Vietnam series with yet another travel series).

But the Canyon, as always, did not disappoint.

A Year Of Humility (XXXIX): Humor

(Even those on search of humility need to laugh sometimes.)