You have many decisions to make in life. A major one is when to retire.

 

You need to plan for the next stage of your life. But how long will you live? To find out, just look at . . .

 

 

Your Date Stamp

 

     I love my job, but there comes a point in every man’s life when it is time to call it quits. I’ve been a science teacher at Gulliver’s Travels High School for forty years, since 2005. It’s been a good career, for the most part.  Many mornings in the past, I marched down the hall to my classroom to rousing greetings from my students.

     “Hey, Mr. Lowry, good morning. See you fifth period.”

     “Morning, my favorite teacher. I’m going to beat you to class.”

     “What are we going to talk about today, Mr. Lowry. I can’t wait.”

     “Science is my favorite subject because of you, Mr. Lowry.”

     That was the past. Now, at age sixty-four, at the beginning of a new year, my cluttered mind drifted in and out. Why should I ever leave teaching? However, it’s a decision we all must face sooner or later. And later seems to be coming sooner.

     “Lowry, I need to see you in my office,” Principal Navarro exclaimed.

     “But, I’ve got a class to get to.”

     “So, you’ll be late. I’ll message your students to enjoy each other’s company until you get there.”

     I entered Principal Navarro’s office. “What’s this all about?”

     “Some of your students have come to see me. They feel your teaching methods are grounded in the past—outdated. It’s 2045. You’ve got to embrace the newest technology. Use it in your classroom.”

     “I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t agree.”

     “You don’t agree? We received a $5,000,000 grant two years ago to upgrade our classroom technology, and we did, with the expectation that all teachers would use it.”

     “But I like interaction in my classroom. Students need to work with each other and not be married to their devices.”

     “We left that world behind us many years ago. Technology rules. And the student complaints about your methodology are right on. And the number is growing. Maybe you should consider retirement.”

     “Maybe I should.”

     I left the principal’s office, walked down the hall, and entered my classroom. To my dismay, nobody was there. However, on the large screen in front of the room, words jumped out at me. “We don’t need to be here today and maybe never. ‘AI’ rules.”

     Brought up in a religious home, I thought God ruled, not ‘AI.’ Maybe the end of this year was the right time to retire. I would have a new life ahead of me for however long God intended me to live.

     It would be great, if I could predict my future and know when my final year of life would be. Then I could make plans and have the opportunity to fulfill them. But I knew this was a dream and not a possibility.

     At home that evening, I sat on the couch and thought about retiring. The answer was, “Yes!” But what would I do with my free time?

     My wife died three years ago and we didn’t have any children. So I was alone and in full control, or so I thought.

     However, in today’s world, all houses are equipped with ‘AI’ to keep you up-to-date on everything that’s happening locally and worldwide. It also answers any questions you might have, whether or not you verbalize them. It infiltrates both body and mind, but, hopefully, not soul.

     My stomach started to rumble, so I thought, What do I want for dinner?

     Your refrigerator is empty. The pasta and chicken dish on Verzano Italiano’s menu is to die for, ‘AI’ chanted.

     I didn’t want to die, but the dish sounded good. So I said, “Order that for me.”

     It has been done and will be delivered in twenty-five minutes. The cost is $34.87.

     The end of the school year came all too soon. On graduation day, June 16, 2045, I sat in the audience and watched the students approach the stage to receive their diplomas. A wonderful future was ahead of them, and it made me feel good. However, I quivered a bit, as I speculated about what the next stage of my life would be like. And then . . .

     Principal Navarro sung out, “I’d like to invite Mr. Max Lowry to come up and receive the 2045 Gulliver’s Travels High School Career Teaching Award.”

     I was speechless. I made my way to the stage to accept the honor, with a broad smile on my face.

     “Congratulations, Mr. Lowry, and thank you for all you have given our school and students during your forty years of exemplary service. We want to wish you a happy and healthy retirement,” Principal Navarro said, with enthusiasm.

     He handed me a framed certificate. I took it, shook his hand and muttered, “Thank you.” I was overwhelmed by this unexpected recognition.

     I headed home, got ready for bed and a sound night’s sleep. I awoke the next morning and welcomed a new day and the beginning of the next stage of my life. I wondered, What am I going to do during the next twenty or more years?

     But you do not have twenty years to live, ‘AI’ stated.

     “Huh. How do you know that?”

     Because it was decided at birth.

     “That can’t be.”

     Every human being has an expiration date.

     “A what?”

     A date on which you will be taken to a better place.

     “You can’t be serious.”

     Check your date stamp.

     “My what?”

     Your date stamp.

     “Where is it?

     On the side of your big toe on your right foot.

     I took off my sock and looked. “I don’t see anything,” I stuttered.

     Use your magnifying glass, ‘AI’ instructed.

     I reached over and took it out of my nightstand drawer. I forced it between my toes and gasped, “6-17-2046—one year from today.”

     My heart beat so quickly, I thought I was having a heart attack. I screamed, “I’m dying!”

     You will be, but not today.

 

 

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