PRE-RETIREMENT BLUES
I am obsessing about retirement in 2009. The only constructive thing I've managed to do so far is have a garage sale and get rid of my comic book collection.

My first retirement (from teaching, in 1974, when I was 30) was easier. I had hope in my heart and a baby in my belly. Even though my teaching career had been plagued by many failures, I had a tremendous sense of achievement. That did not prevent me from sitting on a ridge on the first day of school, watching the kids going into the building, and crying and crying because an important part of my life had ended.

My second retirement (from teaching, in 1977, when I was older and more disillusioned) was an escape from an intolerable situation, and the end of my secondary school teaching career. Instead of applying for another job, I decided I wasn't ready to leave the community of Red Lake. So my husband Doug and I stayed, with our toddler son and no job prospects in sight. (How stupid was that? Or maybe it was inspired.) While I was at the airport, waiting to pick Doug up after a trip to Winnipeg for a cortisone injection, I started chatting with a mutual friend, who introduced me to his boss, who just happened to be looking for a warm body yesterday. When my sweetie got off the plane, I said, "Hello, darling. I found you a job. Say hello to your new boss."

Doug started working night security at a gold mine as a fill-in for two months, and was on permanent staff before the time had ended. I thought this was a perfect opportunity to have a baby, but nothing happened for five months. Then, one day, I was sitting on a pile of dirty laundry, crying inconsolably, and realized that this was pregnant behavior. I started talking to my tenant right away. I addressed her as Beth. #1 had been "Eggbert(a)", after a graphic character in a book of cartoons about life in utero - I expected a son, but I wasn't as sure as I was with #2. Fortunately for her sexual identity, Beth turned out to be a girl.

Meanwhile, our bishop transferred our Anglican priest to the cathedral. My husband became lay-reader-in-charge of the congregations of Red Lake and Ear Falls. We were given the use of the rectory in exchange. Like a superhero, he did ministry by day (including active participation in the local Drug & Alcohol Committee), and security by night. We didn't see much of each other, but we talked on the phone. People were puzzled because I wouldn't let them talk to him in

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