Tag Archives: retirement

Labor Day Blessing

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“Retire from what?”

The Chicago Tribune says Jimmy Buffett asked that question once when they asked him about retirement. He died September 1, just as the Labor Day weekend began, from an aggressive skin cancer called Merkel cell cancer. In his lifetime, he succeeded first in making a name in the music world with a unique style that focused on the “play hard” part of life, but he also marketed his persona and brand with a vengeance because he also worked hard. I recall watching a segment of 60 Minutes in which he described himself as a workaholic, utterly contradicting the world of leisure his songs seemed to evoke.

Work hard, play hard. Retire from what? What difference does it make if you love what you do and life has rewarded your passion?

Jimmy Buffett on the USS Harry Truman, 2008. Photo from Wikipedia

Jimmy Buffett died at age 76. At 73, I can easily imagine living many more years, but I doubt that I will become a billionaire, nor do I care. Life has, in my humble view, already rewarded my passions just by letting me continue to enjoy what I do. One friend and colleague said, “which is never,” when in a jousting, friendly conversation, I allowed that maybe, just maybe, there would be a day when I would stop working.

The only question for me is whether I work for pay or for the love of the challenge. Life since I “allegedly retired” (my phrase) from the American Planning Association more than six years ago has mixed both elements, as I expected, though the specific combinations of activities and assignments has shifted in unexpected ways. I realized when I left that I had reached a point in life where my wife and I could live well enough with our “cushion,” the pensions and Social Security and IRAs we had earned and invested. Everything else was a bonus, though sometimes that bonus gets used to help family and special causes.

I have done far less book writing than I planned, my teaching has paused at the university level but morphed into professional training, and, as readers have noticed, I took on the challenge of learning how to manage a documentary film operation and develop the script, while using long-standing interview skills to capture content. I am volunteering my time on the film because we are developing it on a shoestring (to get started, at least) and because the whole point of this labor of love is to change hearts and minds about planning for disasters and climate change without worrying about getting paid for it. Put another way, it was in large part my idea. No one asked me to do it, though many have been grateful for the opportunity to be part of it. But I still get paid to teach and to consult, though I am dialing back the latter to make room for the work of passion. Recently, I spent a couple of weeks writing a grant proposal that may allow a church to install a solar rooftop. More on that later if we succeed. A higher power can thank me for helping lead his people into the paradise of renewable energy and mitigating global warming.

“Retire from what?”

As long as the work puts a smile on your face, as long as you can blur the lines between work and play, and take pride and joy both in whatever you achieve, who cares whether anyone calls it retirement. Yes, as we get older, health issues start to take a toll. In another month, I will be forced to sit back and recover from some serious surgery, but I was 69 before I faced the first surgery of my life, for cataracts. (Don’t worry. In the tradition of making lemonade out of tropical lemons, I have decided the coming convalescence is perfectly timed for watching the Cubs in the National League playoffs.)

Jimmy Buffett died too soon, in my opinion, but a higher power than I gets to make those decisions. We do not live forever. Make your time worthwhile and let it make you happy until the very end.

“Retire from what?”

Why do people think I coined the term “allegedly retired?” Passions add value to life. Live your passions while you can. And remember to eat a cheeseburger in paradise.

Jim Schwab

P.S.: This blog, also a labor of love, just topped 40,000 subscribers in the last few days. I hope I have added some joy and provoked some creative thought for all of you. And a special thank you to Allison Hardin, who designed a special T-shirt for a surprise “retirement” party for me during the APA National Planning Conference in May 2017. It read, “Ask me about my blog.”

FOBOTS

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Photo from Shutterstock

Over the past weekend, two legendary quarterbacks who may be outlasting their time in the spotlight went down to defeat with their teams. Neither Aaron Rodgers, of the Green Bay Packers, nor Tom Brady, recently with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, will be headed to the Super Bowl. At their current salary level and respective ages, there is also the question of whether they can find a National Football League team that wants to spend what is necessary to keep them on the field. If not, retirement may be involuntary for either or both.

Rodgers earned some well-deserved opprobrium when he dishonestly claimed to have been vaccinated, even though he was not, putting his team and others at risk because of his own arrogance. The NFL probably buttressed that arrogance with a modest penalty that was largely a slap on the wrist for a man with an eight-figure income. He has enjoyed a secondary stage hawking State Farm insurance, but for superstars, such ads are merely an auxiliary revenue stream. They can, however, last a lifetime. Just ask Joe Namath. For some, there is a new career in sports announcing, a legitimate second career for people like John Madden. Such alternatives require a different set of talents from sports itself, so not everyone can make the transition. Honorably, some athletes have used their celebrity power to advance charitable causes and social justice; LeBron James comes to mind. Endorsements, of course, require little more than lending one’s name to a product or project, a process commonly known as branding. But that does not always put one in the limelight, at least not directly.

That is the question I wish to raise here because the desire for attention is a matter of personal psychology. There is nothing inherently wrong with continuing in a position as long as one is capable. However, there are issues involving personal maturity and perspective that are worth exploring. For example, does your reluctance to step away from the limelight betray the lack of any larger focus in life than simply being the center of attention, or do you have a larger sense of purpose? Conversely, is your determination to remain on stage a function of narcissism or an oversized ego?

Merriam-Webster states that the earliest known use of the acronym FOMO—fear of missing out—dates to 2004. Merriam-Webster defines FOMO as “fear of missing out: fear of not being included in something.” Because I jokingly refer to myself as a “compulsive extrovert,” I can relate somewhat to the idea, which long ago went viral, but emotional and professional maturity must at some point prevail. One cannot be everywhere, and priorities are essential. We can all stop and ask ourselves why something matters. In many if not most cases, we must also ask whether it matters.

I propose that we apply the same logic to what I will now label FOBOTS: the fear of being off the stage. As Merriam-Webster’s definition states, FOMO simply relates to a desire to be included. FOBOTS is about being the center of attention. Much more ego is involved. The maturity equation here is different and far larger. The question is whether the person in the limelight is hogging (or hugging) it because of a deep need to feel important, or has some larger purpose for which he or she is uniquely suited. In the latter category, I would suggest that, while Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was frequently in the limelight, it was not often complimentary in his day, he suffered a good deal of withering criticism for taking principled positions on hugely significant issues of human rights, and he was clearly more interested in moving the agenda on civil rights than in self-glorification. He also left behind a very strong bench of independent thinkers in the civil rights movement who have continued to carry the banner long after he was assassinated. Moreover, he was still very young (39) and capable when the assassination occurred. He knew it was a possibility because of the racial hatred and violence that still exists in the United States of America, but there is no evidence that it is the outcome he wanted. No one with his skills and vision wants to be murdered. Such people do want the satisfaction of moving the moral arc of the universe, to use the biblical metaphor. To care about that, they must care about others.

So, who really suffers from FOBOTS? Certainly, plenty of politicians. The sickness today is clearly rampant because the former president, refusing to concede loss in the 2020 election despite an absolute dearth of evidence of voter fraud, cannot abide departing the stage, even when he is harming the prospects of his own Republican party by supporting primary candidates whose agenda is to help Trump exact revenge on his perceived enemies and those who refused to participate in his scheme to overturn the election. In contrast, former President George W. Bush, having served his two terms, virtually disappeared from the public stage and launched a new avocation as a portrait painter. His father, President George H.W. Bush, willingly departed the White House to allow a peaceful transfer of power to President Bill Clinton. And most notably, President Jimmy Carter, who lost re-election to Ronald Reagan, has used his post-presidency to advance a variety of humanitarian causes in a dignified manner consistent with his own Christian principles.

With Trump, however, we have the spectacle of a defeated president who refuses to concede and refuses to honor the results, and simply manufactures false accusations by the wagon load to justify his position. What is best for the country matters little; it is the loss of the limelight, the fear of being off the stage, that dominates his psyche, which was shaped by early successes in life in being able to garner public and media attention as a glamorous son-of-wealth businessman and reality television star. Sorry, Trump followers, there is nothing more there. This is not about your welfare or any agenda that benefits anyone other than Trump himself. It never has been.

If the damage were limited, however, to a continued presence of Trump in the political quarrels of the day, that would be one thing. But the sickness runs deep enough, and the mass paranoia wide enough, to allow him to intimidate hundreds of other Republican politicians who also suffer FOBOTS. The fear of being primaried by a Trump wannabe is so pervasive that almost an entire generation of Republican leadership has lost its moral stature to the point of fearing losing their own smaller stages—as Senators, U.S. Representatives, governors, and now even as Secretary of State in swing states. Only a handful of Republican leaders, notably including Reps. Liz Cheney of Wyoming and Adam Kinzinger of Illinois—are willing to defy him and seek to build the badly needed new leadership that can guide the Republican party out of its moral wilderness. Notably, Kinzinger, while choosing not to run again this year, is launching a new organization to fight what he considers right-wing extremism in the Republican party.

The underlying question of FOBOTS is the emotional intelligence and maturity it takes to realize when it is time to make room for others who can follow in your wake. This requires having had some sense of a larger professional and moral purpose in life. To avoid FOBOTS, it is necessary to think through, in both moral and practical terms, what legacy you wish to leave behind. For many people around the world, that vision is focused on family, on creating opportunities for children, modest goals that do not require oversized egos, and those people should be admired. For the rare few, at various levels of public attention, the public stage is an opportunity to advance a good cause, to elevate humanity, to make life better for others who follow. FOBOTS is an indicator of narcissistic personality disorder.

There is nothing wrong with being in the public spotlight. I have occasionally enjoyed being there myself. But the question always remains: Why are you there, and what larger positive purpose will your presence serve? If you cannot answer that question with honesty and integrity, it may be time to find the exit. Use your time in the shadows to search your soul.

 

Jim Schwab

Well Done, Faithful Servant

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Poster for a presentation at which John Fuller discussed his experiences at La Universidad de los Andes in Venezuela in the 1980s.

Starting this summer, John Fuller will find something new to do with his time. He is retiring after 41 years on the faculty of the University of Iowa, where he has been a professor in the School of Urban and Regional Planning (SURP) since 1979. But he has been much more. He had cross-postings in the Departments of Economics and Geography. He was the resident expert on transportation planning. At times, he chaired the planning school, and from 1979-1995, he was executive director of the Legislative Extended Assistance Group (LEAG) of the Iowa Legislature, which initiated policy research on issues of legislative importance. He also directed the Institute of Urban and Regional Research from 1979-1983. That is where I began working for him.

I have known John for nearly half his life. When I entered the planning program at Iowa in January 1982, he immediately hired me as a graduate research assistant, probably recognizing talents I did not yet know I had, and trusting that high GRE scores portended success. By the time I left in the spring of 1985, just before marrying my wife in Omaha that June, I had completed one of those LEAG studies, possibly one of its most consequential ones, The Farm Credit Crisis in Iowa, examining a financial meltdown in the farm sector and its consequences to communities in rural Iowa. John was aware that I already was undertaking a Master’s Project in Journalism on the subject, which I would ultimately turn into a published book (Raising Less Corn and More Hell, University of Illinois Press, 1988), and convinced legislative leaders to engage me on a policy study. It was a highly formative experience that allowed me to exhibit writing skills that became a cornerstone of my career as it evolved.

John was big on creating opportunities like that for people in whom he had confidence. I am proud to this day that he had such confidence in me. I know that other such expressions of confidence made a similar difference for many others over the decades that followed.

John had already had a meaningful career before he ever arrived at the University of Iowa. He completed a bachelor’s degree in economics at San Diego State University in 1962. He went on to earn a Ph.D. at Washington State University before undertaking a winding path through the Wisconsin Department of Transportation, initially as chief of economic analysis, until he was secretary of the Wisconsin Highway Commission in 1976-1977, just before becoming deputy executive director of the National Transportation Policy Study Commission during the Carter administration in Washington. From there, he moved to Iowa City, where he has remained. He has, however, become a long-time fixture at the federal Transportation Research Board, where he has served on many committees and in many capacities. Often, if I came to Iowa City and John was not there, it was because he was at a TRB meeting in Washington, D.C.

John escorts youngest daughter Elizabeth (Libby) in 2016 wedding.

By the time I met him, John was married to Kathy Fait. They have four children who are today scattered across the landscape in places like California, Houston, and Ann Arbor, Michigan. Retirement may afford them both the chance to visit children and grandchildren more often than they already do. That will surely be appreciated. Meanwhile, they can enjoy their large home on a hill in West Branch, whose primary claim to fame is that it serves as the home of the Herbert Hoover Presidential Library and Museum, just a short bicycle ride away. Not surprisingly, John is the chair of the West Branch Planning & Zoning Commission.

At the University of Iowa, he found his lasting home, but he may also have found himself. In fact, he and Kathy may have carved out a joint mission that made them unique. Increasingly over time, John found ways to connect with students, and Kathy assisted by making their home a place where foreign students particularly felt welcome. Charles (Chuck) Connerly, who became the SURP director in 2008, states:

John spent his career dedicating himself–through his teaching and his kindness–to his students. In the classroom, John was always staying abreast of the latest trends and issues in transportation so that his students were always well aware of the key issues in this important field. He dedicated his career to transportation, and his students greatly benefited from his commitment.

John was also committed to the welfare of our students in planning, especially our foreign students. As a Fulbright scholar himself, John worked very hard to bring Fulbright students to our planning program. Every year there would be at least one Fulbright scholar and often two or three. These scholars, from all over the world, contributed greatly to the quality of our student body and to the overall quality of the educational experience for all our students.

But John, along with his wife Kathy Fait, also made sure that foreign students felt welcomed at Iowa. They would pick students up at the airport, help them negotiate the first few days of their time in Iowa City, and would provide them with stuff that these students, often from warmer climates, would need–such as winter coats and luggage. As an advisor and Director of Graduate Studies, John worked hard to make certain that each of our foreign students was able to complete their studies here, even when some of these students got off to a rocky start. Because of this good care, Fulbright has always looked to us as a good program and university at which scholars can be placed.

John Fuller with me at his daughter’s wedding.

I can attest to much of what Chuck says. He arrived amid the infamous 2008 floods that forced the evacuation of more than 10 percent of nearby Cedar Rapids and wrought damage to the Iowa City campus totaling hundreds of millions of dollars. The school contemplated how it could play a bigger role in assisting Iowa communities with hazard-related problems and considered adding material to its Master’s degree curriculum. Long after most professors would have lost touch with their students, John was very much aware of my work on the subject for the American Planning Association. “Why not bring back Jim Schwab?” he asked, and urged hiring me to teach such a course. I hurriedly designed the course that summer for the fall semester. I have been teaching variations of it ever since.

Of course, I needed to drive out from Chicago to do so. John and Kathy offered their home as a place to stay while I was in town, usually the spare bedroom in the basement. Often, in breakfast conversations, I learned from Kathy of the latest delegation of foreign visitors they had been entertaining. I also learned during that first fall course of a flood refugee named Fred from nearby Coralville, to whom they provided emergency housing for several weeks. The door seemed always open if they could find a way to help.

Badminton, anyone? John found ways to stay fit, including playing in a badminton club.

The Fullers also have an abundant garden in their ample backyard, and I am sure I was not the only one who sometimes drove away after a visit with bags of apples and vegetables they had deliberately picked for me in order to share their cornucopia. It is just part of who they are.

As a result, even classmates of mine, like Kirk Bishop, now a planning consultant in Chicago with Duncan & Associates, who never took a class with Fuller, can say, “I remember him well. Even in our occasional passing in the hallways he was always quick with a smile, a nod, or a hello. A good soul. Fond memories indeed.” It is a rare occurrence when someone can distinctly remember, more than 35 years later, a professor who never taught them. It is a level of personal impact that is exceedingly hard to achieve.

In ordinary times, under ordinary circumstances, a long and distinguished career would likely be celebrated with a farewell gathering of students and faculty and staff, perhaps in a restaurant or some party setting, perhaps at some university facility adequate for the purpose. People would mingle, share stories, and salute the honoree with best wishes for a healthy, happy retirement. Unfortunately, these are not normal times, and no such gathering would have been safe or appropriate.

Chuck Connerly and others did the next best thing, at least for the time being: They hosted an online happy hour via Zoom, which I mentioned in my last blog post. That too was unfortunate, because, while I am told that at least 40 colleagues and SURP alumni joined the discussion, I was not only unable to do so because of my sudden hospitalization, but unable as well to even tell anyone why I was not there. I still regret that, even though I could do nothing about it.

But we are assured that, when the day comes that such a gathering can be done safely, the School will honor John with an in-person gathering for those able to attend. When that day comes, I will drive four hours to Iowa City to attend. After all these years, and all the kindnesses he and Kathy extended, it will be the least I can do. It is especially important to recognize when someone has turned a career into a mission to serve.

Jim Schwab