I found this online. Not on Mom's blog.
Anne Hullinger
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Anne found the letter to editor written by Louise Hullinger after my Dad Clif Hullinger retired. I read the article in the Chicago Tribune, and immediately called my mother Louise to tell her that the letter writer sounded just like Louise writing about her newly retired husband Clif. Mom explained to me that she had in fact written the letter under a pen name. I kept repeating that it sounded just like her, and then it finally sunk into me that she had written the letter. Here is the article below.
Thanks, Anne, for finding this. I will put it on her blog:
https://storiesbylouisehullinger.blogspot.com/
https://louisehullinger.blogspot.com/
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It has been over two years now that my husband has been retired. Retired? Perhaps that is the wrong choice of words. It has been two years now since he left his regular place of business, for what he called ”retirement.”
I confess that I was not prepared for it. I didn`t feel that old, that decrepit. I wasn`t quite ready to sit back and let the rest of the world sail by.
It must have been the difference in our perspectives. He looked upon retirement as a time when he could do exactly what he wanted, when he wanted. I saw it as a time when my domain would no longer be just mine, when the independence I highly value, would be eroded.
The telephone, which had been my exclusive property between the hours of 7 a.m. and 6 p.m. during the work week, had to be shared. And whenever I took or made calls, there was always that omnipresent listening which stifled what I like to consider my communication style. And always there were whispered reminders of what I should tell the caller.
The dining room table, always a haven for my sewing or writing materials, now became laden with bowling scores, senior citizen materials and church records.
For years, after he had departed for work each morning, I had been totally in charge of the thermostat. That was no longer true. The radio, the television, the lights–both of us constantly were adjusting them to suit ourselves.
Perhaps those things should have been expected, but there`s more. Grocery shopping, which always had been my domain, became an instant hobby with him. It got so the refrigerator wasn`t big enough. Invariably we both bought milk, ice cream, prune juice and bran flakes the same day.
If his idea is to be helpful, he could scrub floors, wash windows and do the walls! Now that`s a ”help” I could go for.
And I have almost forgotten how to drive. Where once I braved the Dan Ryan Expressway, the Eisenhower, the Edens, I now find myself sitting next to the chauffeur.
It has not been easy, but gradually adjustments have been made. If I need a good partner, he is available to play duplicate bridge in the afternoon. And traveling no longer has to wait until his two-week vacation arrives.
To all who ask, ”How is retirement?” I can say, ”It took awhile, but I`m getting into it.” My husband can still say, ”Great, much better than working.”
He didn`t retire, he just became king of a different empire!
Originally Published: September 29, 1985 at 1:00 AM CST