Earlier this past winter, I found myself on a planned four-hour layover at Charlotte Douglas International Airport. As I casually walked through the busy corridors of this airport, returning from "Troup Club" (our annual Aruba vacation), I couldn't help but feel like a stranger in a strange land. The familiar hustle and bustle of business travelers engulfed me, their hurried footsteps echoing against the polished floors, their voices drowned out by the constant chatter of phones and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards.
The irony of feeling like a stranger at Charlotte Douglas International Airport wasn't lost on me. This airport was a place I had passed through many times over my career. I even decided to retire while attempting to catch a few hours of sleep on a hard plastic bench after yet another missed flight in early 2017. Despite its familiarity, I now felt like an outsider, a forgotten relic of a world in which I no longer possessed my familiar place or status. It was a moving reminder of life's passages and the sweeping wave of time that carries us to our final destination.
Leon Russell's iconic song, "Stranger in a Strange Land," echoed in my mind as I mused about my place in this ever-evolving business landscape. The lyrics of this song speak of a journey of self-discovery and navigating unfamiliar territory with courage and resilience. The first verse pretty much says it all for me: "How many days has it been since I was born? How many days until I die?" Sentiments that resonated deeply within me as I stood amidst this collection of business travelers, feeling a touch like a relic of a forgotten time.
As a retired traveling sales professional, I once thrived, yes even excelled, in this world of constant movement and perpetual connection. But now, amidst a sea of engaged business professionals, I felt like an outsider looking in through a frosted window. Was I an artifact of a bygone era, a distant memory of a life once lived?
Observing the energy and importance of those around me, engrossed in their devices and consumed by their deadlines, I couldn't shake the sense of disconnect that surrounded me. Gone were my days of sales pitches and high-pressure meetings, replaced now by the freedom of retirement and the chance to be something, or someone, new.
But amid this wave of nostalgia, there was also a deep sense of gratitude. I was thankful for the years spent traversing the country, forging connections, making lifelong friends, chasing professional goals, and winning my share of races along the road traveled. Equally important is gratitude for the opportunity to embrace a new chapter, savor the quieter moments, and revel in the simpler joys of life.
My wife, Sue, says she likes "Retired Dan" better than "Working Dan" and may be right. As I wandered aimlessly through the airport, a sense of calm embraced me. It reminded me that while I may no longer belong to the fast-paced business world, I am still a traveler, journeying through life with a greater sense of curiosity, a passion for learning new things, and a more profound love for family and friends.
In the early days of retirement, I struggled with an abrupt transition from the fast-paced rhythm of my career to a slower, more leisurely pace of retirement. Gone were the days filled with back-to-back meetings, high-stakes negotiations, and the adrenaline rush of closing a deal. Instead, I faced an unfamiliar sense of stillness. A void once occupied by the constant hum of productivity and ambition.
But gradually, as I settled into retirement, I began to realize the importance of purpose. Planning your finances for retirement is the easy part. Figuring out your new "purpose" once you leave those crowded airport terminals requires some complex thought and planning.
Purpose can be found in so many new places – in the joy of spending time with loved ones, in the pursuit of new interests, and in the opportunity to make a difference in the lives of others. Whether starting a side hustle, volunteering for a cause close to your heart, pursuing a long-neglected hobby, or simply taking the time to savor life's small pleasures, retirement offers many opportunities to discover a new purpose and meaning for your life.
So, I offer this "gentle" reminder to my friends, colleagues, and fellow travelers who are still maintaining the frenetic pace of the corporate world. Embrace the journey, wherever it may lead. Even amidst the chaos of a busy airport terminal, trying to get to the next meeting or home to your family, there is peace to be found. Remember the words of Leon Russell and take a moment to pause, breathe, and appreciate the adventures that lie ahead for you.
Dan Troup is The Sunny Side of 57. He loves to reflect and write about life, family, career, and retirement. Check out more of his reflections on his blog site. Also, consider subscribing to The Sunny Side of 57. When not playing pickleball or hiking with Sue and Rigby, he writes a new post about twice a month.
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