The initial few years in retirement frequently present the greatest challenges. However, these times also lay the groundwork for your future years, both economically and emotionally. Stephen Kreider Yoder, an experienced former Wall Street Journal editor, retired alongside his spouse, Karen Kreider Yoder, towards the end of 2022. Through their monthly column titled “Retirement Rookies,” the 67-year-old duo share insights into the various aspects they encounter during the beginning stages of their retirement journey.
Steve
While cycling along the northern coast of Japan in July, we received an email from a reader that has sparked ongoing discussions among us.
We logged a lot of miles during the initial couple of years post-retirement by traveling extensively, but in the past six months, we decided to stay put at home for the very first time in our lives,” penned Colleen, who is 64 and hails from Washington state. “Being within our own neighborhood, inside our house, tending to our garden has turned out to be far more delightful than we ever imagined.
Colleen’s comments resonated with us since Karen and I had been discussing during our ride if it might be wise to slow things down upon returning home by the end of summer. “Perhaps it will be time for a fresh start,” I mentioned multiple times.
Almost half of our time has been spent apart ever since I retired. We have not a single moment to regret, be it from cycling across America, delving into the Algerian Sahara, or taking an Amtrak train to visit Dad in Iowa. The Hokkaido island in Japan surpassed all expectations as we cycled past fishing hamlets, ascended winding mountain paths, and traversed farmlands reminiscent of my youth.
And with every kilometer covered this summer, we found ourselves longing even more to simply be back at home—not just as an escape from our travels.
We’ve returned and remain committed to staying. However, this means acknowledging that I’m still struggling with being retired at home. A major realization post-work was finding it incredibly difficult to leave the couch behind and discover new activities to occupy the void left by my former career. Starting fresh feels quite intimidating.
For many years, my work dictated a significant part of my daily routine. Unanticipated tasks would constantly bombard me, necessitating innovative choices that frequently resulted in satisfying conclusions. Looking back, the consistent stream of challenges was quite addicting.
Travel can act like a potent drug. No matter whether I’m exploring an uncharted land or driving along the twisty roads of Appalachia, each trip inundates me with fresh challenges hourly. On these journeys, the path dictates which choices I have to make.
At home, the responsibility falls on me to seek out chores, which isn’t something I excel at. I spend my time fiddling in the garage, mending household items, reading some, riding in the park with Karen—and then invariably start examining maps, conjuring plans for yet another journey as though I must flee.
I’m envisioning my retirement as a time for fewer trips, focusing more on making our house feel like a cozy haven instead of a launching pad for new adventures. A key part of this shift involves convincing myself that it’s perfectly fine to take a break from traditional productivity; I should allow myself the luxury of staying home, engrossed in reading, listening to music, or engaging in enjoyable hobbies without feeling guilty about it.
I’ve got several role models. One acquaintance just retired and promptly took up an engaging schedule involving gardening, playing pickleball, going bowling, and spending time with their grandchildren. Others have discovered part-time editing jobs that seem to offer both a sense of purpose and a pleasant daily routine.
What I particularly admire about Karen is how she has spent her retirement doing fulfilling activities both at home and within the community since the very next day of retiring. These pursuits have allowed her to make a positive impact on others’ lives. While traveling excites her, she also finds joy in returning to her everyday life post-retirement.
We’ve been attempting to welcome more individuals into our house since we have extra free time. Getting accustomed to life at home also involves participating in local activities, as I’ve realized. Consequently, I’ve started registering for additional volunteer opportunities and am contemplating finding part-time employment—not primarily for the income, but to establish an external routine that provides a sense of return. An old acquaintance who has retired works part-time in the bicycle section of a sporting goods store—this option seems quite appealing.
However, I could be hopeless. Last month, I discreetly placed an order for 12 maps outlining a bicycle route through the American Northwest. These maps are currently tucked away beneath my desk, whispering enticingly to me as I compose this.
Karen
Back home once more, back home once more, and there’s an abundance of activities awaiting me since my retirement.
Too much, sometimes.
During my initial week back from Japan, I sent emails to friends who lived close enough to be within walking distance. This list eventually expanded to include 20 people, excluding any children.
“I’m ready to get connected with everyone,” I posted. “Interested in joining me for a bicycle trip to the seaside?…How about stopping by later today to relax on the front porch?” Right away, one of my friends extended an invitation to attend a debate-watch party, and someone else suggested organizing a community potluck. My new neighbor joined me on a bike ride to the shore where we gathered under the moonlight. When a buddy was planning a shrimp boil, they borrowed my large cooking pot.
Unlike Steve, I don’t spend much time wrestling with how to define my new position in life when we’re not on the road.
Staying at home is soothing for me. I rise with the sun, brew some coffee, and move quietly about the house by myself. I empty the dishwasher and enjoy reading the printed edition of the San Francisco Chronicle. Later, I tackle a couple of crossword puzzles and send the completed ones to my sisters via text.
Everything before sunrise or before Steve arrives.
Staying at home brings me great pleasure. I prepare dishes to enjoy with friends. I dry apples and grapes for later use. I also create plum preserves and quince spread. In addition, I craft comforters and patchwork quilts. My days are filled with various tasks such as digitizing photographs, organizing documents, constructing sock monkeys, facilitating meetings of my women’s group, and teaching an adult student.
My career previously dictated a significant part of my daily routine, just as it did for Steve. Now, in retirement, I have chosen my own occupation, which essentially functions as my new profession.
The challenge I face is that I frequently opt for “yes” when asked to take on more responsibilities, which leads me to feel overwhelmed by the multitude of duties on my plate—despite finding pleasure in most of these activities.
A possible approach: I enumerate every task along with the estimated time required, making them appear more manageable. Completing the childhood fabric quilt—20 hours. Organizing childhood documents—8 hours. Making photo albums for my three boys—15 hours before Christmas.
So, I promised myself something. In the morning, focus on tackling my responsibilities such as paperwork, chores, and those nagging duties I usually put off. Then, in the afternoon, I can indulge in activities I enjoy more, including sewing, reading, cooking, and cycling.
Then there are the regular weekly activities that I’ve chosen—Tuesday morning meditation on Zoom, Tuesday evening dinner and comforter knotting, Wednesday morning biking to pick up our community agriculture box. Thursday once a month is Serendipity Day with Steve, when we draw a slip of paper out of a jar with an activity written on it.
These scattered activities ensure routine and continuity throughout the week.
Whenever my tasks start feeling overwhelming, I have a reliable way to refresh myself: traveling. If we’re away for over a month, I pause these responsibilities—and return to them with fresh energy.
It will likely take until sometime next spring for me to require the next reset, which is perfect timing to embark on another cross-country journey. Since Steve admitted to purchasing those Northern Tier bicycle maps, I’ve begun looking into campgrounds along our intended path.
The Yoders reside in San Francisco. You can contact them at [email protected].
