At 3:13 PM on a Thursday, in the thick of something that seemed important at the time, Donna Rios got the dreaded call: “Steven is in the emergency room.” Some sort of heart attack. He was only 58 — far too young to die.
The doctors called it cardiomyopathy. Steven said, “My heart exploded.”
Rest, Recover, Retire
I sat down with Steven and his partner Donna in the cozy living room of their 1928 plaster lath home in Seattle. Leonard Cohen seasoned the atmosphere with light jazz as we talked. Their adopted stray cat June glared at me suspiciously before flopping down beneath a shelf bent perilously from a load of books.
“I was in the hospital for eight days. Just lying there thinking about life. And death too, I suppose. When I got out, they told me to rest for a month, so I sat quietly like a good boy and read a book a day for the first two weeks.”
He reached over to the shelf and retrieved a crisp novel entitled A Fraction of the Whole. “This was my favorite one. You’ll love it, I promise. Take it — it’s yours.”
Steven graduated from a liberal arts college in 1981 with a major in business and a minor in literature. It was obvious it should have been the other way around. He wagged on about his favorite authors and novels until Donna reminded him of our topic.
“As much as I love to read, sitting still got old really fast. I had to get up, get moving, and make some decisions. Thinking about my own mortality worried me. Who knows how long we have? And why do we keep wasting it doing shit that doesn’t matter? I called my boss and quit. Gave him my two-week notice and took two weeks of vacation. I marched into the office, packed up my crap and walked out.”
Frugality is a fine retirement plan
24 years ago, Donna and Steven met at a hotel property where they worked. Steven was a sociopathic hound dog at the time, but Donna found a way to tame him — something nobody else could do. They fell in love. A few months later they moved in together and have been living in sin ever since. “Why bother getting married,” Steven said proudly. “It’s just a piece of paper, and I’m sure there’s some law that covers all that anyway.” He glanced at Donna for a sign of agreement. “Besides, you have to get tuxedos and fancy gowns and it’s expensive and pointless.”
She sat quietly, guarding her opinion while Steven excused himself. “I still do this occasionally he said, waving a cigarette. I’ve cut way back. Actually, quit for a while …” his voice trailed off as the door closed.
Donna is a pretty lady with black hair and dark eyes that are hard to read. She’s short, keenly independent, and intellectually confident. We spoke together alone for a few minutes.
“Steven never talked about retirement,” she started. “I don’t think he even considered it until after the heart attack. It was a bad one. He won’t admit it, but I know he’s worried. I am too.”
“Luckily, he’d been stashing a lot in his 401k. He doesn’t spend much — doesn’t need much. For him, money has never been anything other than a method of acquiring novels and scotch. He’s put plenty away over the years so he’s fine. We’ll be fine.”
Steven returned from his break with a wet jacket and an aura of Marlboros. He poured us each a wee dram of Glengyle scotch, neat. It tasted like a wet dog. Steven likes it peaty.
Retirement life
“What’s retirement really like?” I asked.
He lit up. “It’s great. I love it. Should have done it right out of college.” He winked. “It was tough at first, with all the extra time. But it wasn’t long after I quit when my mom took a turn and started sliding into dementia. It’s tragic and painful to watch but it gave me purpose, and she really needed me. Maybe I needed it too.”
“After it was thankfully over, I found that the extra time wasn’t a problem at all. On the contrary, it was more like an opportunity to enjoy life like I never had before. It was summertime, and I bought a motorcycle to enjoy the weather. Donna, when she wasn’t working, would join me on long drives up the coast to explore quaint towns and restaurants. Otherwise, I’d just hop on the saddle by myself and drive around, tilting at windmills.”
“Winters are rough, though. Seattle is so far north that the days are short, gray, and filled with rain. It’s depressing, to say the least. Donna heads off to work and I pound around the house working on projects and finding ways to keep busy.”
“Cooking & cleaning?” I asked. Donna laughed out loud.
“Fuck that shit!” (A phrase he repeats often.) “No way. I clean a bit okay, but I don’t cook. I’m awesome at reheating. And ordering takeout. Phone orders though — not computers; we don’t get along.”
Steven Edward Kimble is tall, slim, and unflappable. He’s one of the rare individuals I’ve met who’s mastered the art of indifference. Behind the beard and silver flop of hair is a man who’s always known what he wants and is never shy to speak his mind. Like a Buddhist monk he can connect with your soul, and in the next moment he’ll spin a yarn like Oscar Wilde.
You’d never know by looking at him that he’s carrying a ticking time bomb in his chest. He’d never tell you either. Instead, he shares an endless string of stories, smiles, and compliments to his current best friend — you. He’s a happy and successful retiree, and there’s no question he’ll enjoy himself in the same defiant and non-judgmental way he’s always lived.
Lessons
We can learn a lot from Steven and his retirement experiences. Since he’s hopelessly addicted to books, let’s look at his retirement lessons through the filter of literature. He’d like that.
1. “The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck” — Steven is a black belt at this. You should be too! It’s empowering to be able to identify and care about the things that really matter and discard the ones that don’t.
2. “Plan Ahead” — You’d be surprised at how easy it is to live below your means when you value yourself not by what you possess, but by the way you live. Create a life in a way that you can save. Save a little or save a lot — doesn’t matter. Just save something. (But an occasional splurge on nice scotch is highly recommended.)
3. “Finding Rose” — Family always comes first. Steven cared for his mother Rose as she slipped into the cruel grip of dementia. It brought him closer to her, and closer to the idea that the end of life is unpredictable and unstoppable. Enjoy every bit of it while you can.
4. “Who Moved My Cheese?” — No matter how you or what you do, you’ll be wrong. Count on it. But if you can learn to adapt to change you can learn to embrace it and enjoy it.
The final, most important lesson
According to the CDC, Heart disease is the leading cause of death in the United States. While heredity certainly plays a role, healthy lifestyle choices can make the difference between a long and enjoyable retirement and a premature dénouement.
So, the final lesson, the most important one, is to pursue a healthy lifestyle
Eat healthy, exercise, drink moderately, and don’t smoke. Good choices lead to lower blood pressure and better cholesterol levels — good habits for a healthy heart.