By Steve Gibbs

AS SCHOOL DAYS RETURN, the conversation at the Gibbs residence shifts to the logical topic of retirement. Of course, we are excited for school to be in session. Of course, we are eager to meet those shiny, young, expectant faces. Of course, we are thrilled to be doing our job — explaining things to people. Still, the closer we get to the end of our careers, the brighter the glow of that Wonderland Express and the more it invades our thoughts.

Man, we have cycled through a lot of retirement plans. Had we written them all down on cardboard, we could recycle that cardboard today and fund an earlier retirement. We have consumed the duration of some people’s retirements concocting our own. If we had 20 lifetimes, we could not do half the adventures we’ve devised.

We are fortunate in one respect. We’ve been planning for retirement for 20 years. We’ve been socking money away and making investments. That’s practically all we ever do with our money. It’s like our monthly main event. Put it here. Send it there. It’s easier now that the kids are finished with college and down payments on cars and houses. We’re utilizing this gap before the grandchildren grow into needy beings and begin tapping pappy. A shopping spree for us is to buy 50 more shares of AT&T. If the world doesn’t implode, we should be OK.

Currently, we have Plans A, B and C. We have created three tiers to adjust for changing income comfort, natural disasters, and global market instabilities. If things go sour, we have backups. Level-one living, if all goes well, means that Susan and I will remain in Benicia. We are home in our home-home. We will explore the Bay Area unfettered by daily work. We will use our little Tahoe cabin as our wilderness getaway. We will hum along.

If money grows tight, we will rent or sell in Benicia and jump to Tahoe, which is almost paid off now. We will then travel to Benicia and the Bay Area as visitors and mooch couches and coffee off our long-time friends. We will make our stake at the lake. We should be able to maintain a comfortable life there that includes all the travel we need to not feel isolated.

After the 2008 financial collapse, I got spooked and inspired and hired my brother-in-law Craig to build us the attic loft in Ridgway, Pa. We use it for fun and family visits, but I wanted a Plan C. If the whole world burns and the frackers haven’t destroyed the water, Susan and I can escape on foot with bedrolls to rural Pennsylvania and lay our heads.

I have some quotes from retired friends. We asked their opinions. Here’s one of my favorites: “If your pension is secure and you are only working because you are afraid you will need even more money, retire now. You’ll have the time to find all sorts of savings.”

A friend who has been retired eight years said, “I don’t know how I ever found the time to go to work every day. My days are so busy; I couldn’t possibly fit work into my schedule.”

Several friends paraphrased this: “It’s amazing how fast the mornings go by when you’re retired. You wake up, drink your coffee, read the paper, have breakfast, do your business, pick out some clothes, dress, step up to face the day, and find that it’s two o’clock.”

An old guy I met briefly while gathering kindling from the secret place in the Industrial Park said, “It’s the best decision I ever made in my life. If I had it to do over again, I’d have retired five years sooner.”

One friend who retired while his wife continued to work and his kids were still in college said, “Retirement is fine if you stand in the middle of the room and don’t do anything. Doing things costs money.”

One friend sought professional help for depression. He found himself standing in the middle of all the rooms in his house. He’s over that now, but it took a long time to adjust.

I’m not sure how it will work at the Gibbs house. We are having a two-tier departure. Susan is entering her final year of teaching. Next June she turns in her homework for the last time and comes home for good. She’ll be 65. The following year, I’ll retire at 61 ½, the magic multiplier. What will that final year of mine be like?

Personally, I see it as paradise in a bottle for us both. Susan will be rid of me for long periods of time. She can do as she pleases all day. She can stay in bed, read a book, wear pigtails and skip around the house, or cook and clean if that’s what she wants to do. I won’t be under her feet, needing her to find things for me.

I get to go to work with ironed shirts and come home to a cooked meal. I horripilate with joy at the very thought. There will be music playing and Susan will be humming and waltzing about the house. She will kiss me at the door. She may or may not have a rose between her teeth.

Steve Gibbs teaches at Benicia High School and has written a column for The Herald for 28 years.