Regrets (or Not)?

“It is not the things we do in life that we regret on our death bed. It is the things we do not.”

Randy Pausch

On my last visit to Oklahoma, I noticed the stack of clippings my husband had left for me on the dresser in our bedroom. My mother-in-law has a habit of cutting clippings from the newspaper that she wants us to read, and my husband has adopted this habit. The clipping on the top of the stack on my recent visit was a column written by Dave Ramsey, a personal finance expert, author, and radio host. It was about how individuals should “work first, play later,” a recurring theme of Ramsey and my husband.

Let me be clear – I have no problem with establishing financial security, saving for retirement, or spending money judiciously, even though my husband refuses to give me due credit for that. Even when financial advisors have praised me for my savings and projected retirement income, it is never enough for my husband, but that’s for another blog post.

Ironically, shortly after reading the Ramsey column, I read another article – this one written by Brooke Meredith and published online in Medium on July 8, 2021, entitled, “10 Things You’ll Regret When You’re Older, if you Aren’t Careful.” In this article, Meredith, lays out 10 regretful things, including following the crowd to fit in (#1), not taking chances (#2), and staying in your bubble (#4). But it was items #9 and #10 that caught my attention because they appeared to be in direct opposition to the Ramsey article. Number 9 was not playing more, and #10 was working too much.

I know there must be a happy medium between both philosophies, and that I’m probably not the best persons to blog about this. At 60+ years of age with a healthy projected retirement income, I’m probably not the demographic that Ramsey was talking about in his article. However, it’s something that has been consuming a lot of space in my thoughts. I have friends who didn’t make it to their 60th birthdays. My own father didn’t live to see his granddaughters reach adolescence and will never meet his great-grandchildren.

There’s been a lot of talk lately about the shrinking workforce because of COVID-19, particularly in disciplines of which I’m somewhat familiar. My colleague, Dwayne Smith, public health director of Elbert County Health Department and a 30-year public health professional, recently shared an article from The Gazette, a Colorado Springs newspaper which was published on September 15 and in which he was quoted. The article reported that 40% of Colorado public health leadership have left positions. Yes, you read that correctly – leadership. These are people in leadership positions, and they are leaving because they are being threatened with lawsuits from people with financial resources who disagree with scientific recommendations.

Another article I read recently was written by Jessica Wildfire, entitled, “I’m a Teacher. I’m About to Quit.” In this article, Wildfire, who reports she wanted to be a teacher since she was a child and even obtained a Ph.D., reported that classrooms have become some of the most “dangerous places “ in the U.S. because of “MAGA” students who refuse to debate issues such as abortion and global warming. They are anti-masking and carrying firearms.

Full disclosure: My senior English research paper in 1976 was on abortion. I don’t recall all the criteria for the research paper, but we had to select a topic, research that topic by reading a variety of periodicals on the subject, develop a conclusion, and present the argument for the conclusion based on the research. My conclusion was based on a multitude of mostly medical sources and not consistent with what I had been “told” in church. When I mentioned this to my mother a few months ago, she asked what my English teacher had said when she read my paper. I reminded my mother that my English teacher’s job was to teach me how to gather information, critically evaluate the information, and make informed decisions based on the information. It was NOT to tell me how to think or believe.

I don’t know what my English teacher’s opinion was. She was 60+ when I was in high school and taught in a small school district in Pontotoc County, Oklahoma in 1976, so I can probably guess. She gave me an A on my senior paper, not because she believed my argument, but because she graded me on my ability to consider and articulate the information I had gathered.

I recall having disagreements with my classmates on that topic. However, aside from a few “you’ll rot in hell” comments, I didn’t feel threatened by physical violence because of my viewpoint. I can’t say the same today.

I listen to the stories of my friends in healthcare who are facing a daily barrage of insults and physical violence while putting their own lives at risk to care for patients. Ongoing staff shortages at hospitals are intensifying the problem. I see the exhaustion on their faces. As a friend who loves and cares for them, I am frustrated and my heart aches for them.

The coronavirus pandemic has caused millions to leave the workforce. Some individuals were affected more than others – women (particularly Hispanic women and unpartnered mothers), low-wage workers, young adults, and persons with less education experienced a sharp decrease in employment, according to the Pew Research Center.

But some people (and I acknowledge its mostly white people with privilege, and I am one of them) have witnessed the unpredictability brought on by the pandemic and have chosen to leave unsatisfactory jobs in search of something more meaningful.

My generation was taught to value stability and loyalty. One of the inadvertent things COVID may have done is expose past fallacies. I don’t think stability was ever guaranteed. I’ve watched friends do “everything right” to ensure financial stability only to be ambushed by unpredictable, catastrophic medical bills. I’ve watched friends devote their entire life to a job and then be laid off by corporate America in a “cost saving exercise.”

The people who are making decisions to leave current jobs in hopes of finding something more fulfilling are clearly taking chances (#2 in the Meredith article) in a belief that something better awaits. Only time will tell if that was a good decision.

With the advantage of someone with 60+ years of life experience, I can honestly say that the only regrets that I have are the things I didn’t do – the trips I didn’t take, the questions I didn’t ask, the times I said “no” when I wanted to say “yes.”

I also have the benefit of still being “young” enough to reimagine a different future for me, my daughter, and granddaughter.

There’s a lot that I don’t like about our current reality, but I remain committed to looking at the future through a lens of curiosity and learning rather than blame and judgment and maintaining the status quo.

#continuouslearner #reimagining