I have instituted what I think is a life-saving technique. It’s called potato days. These are days when you do little or absolutely nothing of a productive nature.
On potato days we don’t go food shopping. We don’t do the laundry. We don’t clean the house. I don’t write a column or record a podcast episode. We binge watch episodes of “Duster” or “The Gilmore Girls” or “Project Runway.” We stay in bed late. We open the windows and let the air and sunshine in. We have a late breakfast that borders on lunch. Or maybe just one meal at around 4 p.m.
Following the pandemic, people began to question the nature and necessity of productivity. I kept seeing memes that encouraged me to forgo the 40 hour work week, to step back from burnout, to de-emphasize “productivity.” I felt like writing back that Joan and I were already doing that because we had retired. It is a natural curve to ease into doing less when you retire. Of course, if you still have a family to feed and bills to pay, maybe forgoing the 40 hour work week isn’t such a good idea. And, by the way, amid current cries of “socialism” creeping into American politics, might I remind you that Communists and unions fought for and secured a 40 hour work week for their members, down from the 80 to 110 hour, six day a week work week that was the norm. Unions and the labor movement also fought for and won better pay, vacation time, safer conditions and better work-life balance. So, don’t cry to me about socialism now. Without unions, we all would have been unable to leave with all the doors locked as in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire, which claimed the lives of 146 workers. Thankfully, we’ve come a long way since 1911. Many people today can afford shorter hours and can even work most days from home, a necessity during the pandemic that’s still in place today.
But, perhaps productivity of the kind we grew up with was over-emphasized. I’m reminded of Jesus’ “Sermon On The Mount” (recorded in Matthew 6:25-34 or Luke 12: 22-32):
“Behold the birds of heaven, that they neither sow nor reap…and your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not ye of much more value than they?…Consider the lilies of the field…they toil not, neither do they spin…But, if G-d doth so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?…and which of you, by being anxious, can add one cubit unto the measure of his life?”
Prior to the pandemic, we placed quite a high value on productivity as a culture. From Henry Ford’s assembly lines to the latest product from Apple, pushing the envelope became our national obsession. Maybe we learned something from that horrible plague that took so many from us and robbed us of so many things. Maybe we learned how to treasure our time and seek a better work/life balance. Many workers, disgusted with low pay and no health insurance, walked away from their jobs seeking better employment, even if it meant earning a little less. We soon discovered who the very essential workers were, and it wasn’t only the brave doctors, nurses and medical teams we saluted every night by banging pots and pans. It wasn’t only the police and firemen who kept us safe. It was the teachers who taught our children, the service staff who cooked and brought us our food, the mailmen, the crossing guards, the people delivering food to our local supermarkets. All of us, in ways large and small, were essential. Because nobody makes it through life alone. We always get by with a lot of help from our friends and even people we don’t know.
Am I saying we should totally abandon work and live in the field and eat wild berries and grass? No. Some work must go on to keep us all safe, well fed and protected.
Perhaps I’m only speaking to my age group here but we no longer need to “produce” something of value every single day of our lives.
At our age, some days are made to be potato days. Nothing sought, nothing created. Time to relax, to breathe, to let life flow on within you and without you.
You’re probably thinking “But, I’m not sure how much time I have left.” I hear you, and I agree. I stared down a long road recently and, seeing it’s end, recognized a very apt metaphor for where I find myself these days: contemplating a foreseeable future. I’m not scared. I don’t even believe this is where the road ends, necessarily, but I do contemplate what it means not to be “here” anymore, to be among the absent friends mentioned during toasts, to pop up in somebody’s feed on Facebook, to stir someone’s memory by a song or a movie or a book that we shared.
That’s why potato days are precious to me. Because, while I might not physically be accomplishing anything, they give me a chance to ruminate, to plan, to think through a next step, next project, next event. They allow me the space I need to plot all the angles, see it from as many sides as I can, to consider all possibilities, even the impossible ones. I may not be stirring from my bed or my couch or that love seat in the kitchen, but my mind is traveling on, going where perhaps I will never go. It’s an exciting adventure. One that I would encourage you to take.
Don’t be concerned about time lost. Time preparing is never lost. Self care should always come first. And there will always be a tomorrow. And when there no longer is, we will have used up our time as wisely as we know how.
Hold those magnificent grey heads high! At ease!
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