It will all be over in three days time. Christmas Day that is. J and I will be spending our Christmas Day on our own. It is a very deliberate choice. We both like the freedom a day on our own brings. What it means is that before and after the 25th we find time to spend with family members, usually to have a Christmas meal and exchange gifts. Last Sunday one of our daughters gave us a bag full of presents and then announced that she wasn’t buying me any alcohol this year. She has for many, many years always given me a bottle of Harvey’s Bristol Cream sherry for Christmas. There are of course, alternatives to this blue bottled sherry.
Gifts are always a personal choice, but when I showed my surprise, she told me that I drank too much alcohol and she wanted me to cut back, so I might still be alive when her youngest graduates from university. Given his age, that will be at least another 10 years’ time. I do like a glass or two of red wine, that is for sure. We had a laugh about it at the time, but I wondered why she had become worried about my health now.
I’m well and truly in that later life space. I’m not alone. Baby Boomers like me on average are living longer, certainly longer than folk in 1900. On average, 75% of the population are reaching their 65th birthday and many far beyond this. The average life expectancy after men retire at 66 years, is another 22 years (I can’t find the data for women). That is a long time. Contemporary medicine has made it possible for many of us to live much longer lives. However, a longer life doesn’t always mean a healthy life. As we get older, individual health and wellbeing can rapidly deteriorate. It is also a time that can give rise to questions of one’s purpose and even identity.
Of course, questions about one’s purpose and identity can happen at any time in someone’s life. For example, I know of several mums who, having looked after their children from birth, suddenly become bereft as those same children leave home for university, travel or marriage. It is also quite common when people first retire. Whilst I retired from full time employment many years ago, I have continued to do things for both my university and the NHS, that other folk might consider work. I don’t see it that way in the strict sense of being employed. I do the things I do, because I enjoy doing them and feel I still have something to offer – and there you go – something about having a purpose in life.
Now J does work full-time still and is a little way off retiring just yet. Consequently, I have happily become a stay-at-home man. I take great joy in doing the blindingly obvious tasks, shopping, gardening, occasional washing and so on, but also in also those often-hidden tasks that help keep our lives running smoothly. It is my own version of the Adam Smith metaphor of the ‘invisible hand’, something he used in describing free market economics.
From an economic perspective, the invisible hand describes how free markets can motivate individuals who, in acting in the own self-interest, produce what is societally necessary. The outcome is a system of mutual interdependence. It was a concept I explored in my PhD, through the lens of General Practitioners’ decision making in the NHS internal market at the time. At home, the concept is much simpler.
I’m very happy to get on with whatever it takes to ensure that J has the time, space, and energy to get on and do what she does best – and she is good at what she does in her work. However, sometimes my approach annoys J and she will tell me to simply sit down and stop. Hard to do. I work off a mental Gantt chart that allows me to constantly tick things off in a sequence that works for me, even if it is not obvious to others. I like doing things and can’t rest (easily) until I feel everything is done. It would be wrong however, to think that I do everything while J does nothing at all. She is a ruthless tidier for a start and she contributes to the smooth running of our lives in ways that are often just as invisible and difficult to articulate as some of my efforts. And for that, I’m more than grateful.
As we all move through life, it is important to think about what we can do, and perhaps not what we can no longer do. I know that as I have slowed down, I’ve become more aware of the important things that contribute to our happiness. There is no place for an approach that draws upon a strict division of labour. It is a much more transcendental approach that will ensure a shared happiness every time.
Finally, whatever you might be doing, and whoever you might be sharing your Christmas with, I hope you all have a very happy Christmas.
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