When I Grow Up.

After 25+ years in the Air Force, it's probably time that I start thinking about what I want to be when I grow up. They call this transition "retirement", but that just makes me laugh a faint, hollow laugh. I have a three-year old, a couple kids not too far off of college, and a wife currently in college.
 
I'm going to work until I die. Given the usual lifespans in my family, that's a good ways down the road. Faced with this bright and cheery future, I need to figure out what I'm going to do to make money.

My piece of paper degree in business management is probably going to get me less than I need to support in the fashion they've become accustomed to. An MBA? Maybe, in the right position, but I don't have an MBA just yet, although that could be acquired through the GI Bill. My dream of getting a civil engineering degree has pretty much been snuffed out by my rapidly weakening mind and my lack of faith in the University of Alaska's ability to effectively manage resources. I have decades of experience dealing with bureaucracy while wearing the same clothes every day, so that may get me a leg up on the competition, which may come in handy if I want to get promoted above the other fry cooks. Not sure what else I have going for me.
  
Problem is, a lot of my options involve serious restrictions on my opportunities to ride a bike, let alone race one. Remote locations for extended periods away from my family. The money is fantastic, but I don't know if my body and mind would hold up for long.
 
And then what?
 
Faced with a future of challenges and possibilities after this long being institutionalized... it's a dramatic change. The world isn't the same as when I went in. The internet was in its infancy, and the vast, vast majority of people had never heard of it. George H.W. Bush was president and we were still riding the high of the Gulf War and the wall coming down. It may have been a simpler time, or maybe my perception was different then. It's a whole new game now, and I'm reminded of Brooks Hatlin's letter in the Shawshank Redemption:

"Dear fellas, I can't believe how fast things move on the outside. I saw an automobile once when I was a kid, but now they're everywhere. The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry. The parole board got me into this halfway house called "The Brewer" and a job bagging groceries at the Foodway. It's hard work and I try to keep up, but my hands hurt most of the time. I don't think the store manager likes me very much. Sometimes after work, I go to the park and feed the birds. I keep thinking Jake might just show up and say hello, but he never does. I hope wherever he is, he's doin' okay and makin' new friends. I have trouble sleepin' at night. I have bad dreams like I'm falling. I wake up scared. Sometimes it takes me a while to remember where I am. Maybe I should get me a gun and rob the Foodway so they'd send me home. I could shoot the manager while I was at it, sort of like a bonus. I guess I'm too old for that sort of nonsense any more. I don't like it here. I'm tired of being afraid all the time. I've decided not to stay. I doubt they'll kick up any fuss. Not for an old crook like me. P.S: Tell Heywood I'm sorry I put a knife to his throat. No hard feelings.     -Brooks."

 
Best I can do is duck my head down, get in the drops, and start cranking into the wind. Good things generally happen for me when I take that approach. Pick a direction and start working. I'm not sure just yet which way I'm going to turn the handlebars, but once I decide I'm going to commit to it. Change isn't inherently bad or good- it's just the process of moving to something different.

Am I afraid? You betcha. Not for me, because I generally get along somehow no matter which sewer I wind up flushed into. The family is my main concern, so the stress is exponential. I'll get there. We'll get there.
 
Hopefully it will be by bike.