Retiring at 62 …

I turn 62 in a couple of weeks. I am officially retiring from my career at the University of Oregon Libraries this Thursday, July 1st. There are lots of thoughts and feelings to unpack, but I found myself thinking of my dad. Milt also retired at 62, and I am pleased to share that in common with him. On a more bittersweet note, dad died at the beginning of July in 2010. Even though 11 years have passed, I now find myself at start of the retirement chapter of my own life. How long will it last? My dad had 13 years that he lived to the fullest.

Part of the “off-boarding” process when you leave the employment of the University is turning back in all your computer equipment and keys. I’m wrapping that process up today. The process of tidying up my laptop has turned into hours of deleting, transferring, saving and separating personal from work related files. I’ve come across a lot of documents that have sent me down memory lane, but the one below really paused me in my tracks. These were the reflections I had to offer at my dads memorial service. Just as in so many other things, I find myself hoping that I can live up to my dad’s example of how to live in retirement … now matter how many years it lasts. Here’s to you old man!

A Remarkable Life

Reflections of a Son

On behalf of Milt Watson’s family, I want to thank each of you for being here today to share our sadness, to give testimony to the faith that sustained my dad to the end and to celebrate the memory of a man that a friend once told me, “Has been an avenue of God’s grace to so many people around him.”   I know that is certainly true in my own life.  

My mother’s presence is greatly missed this afternoon.   Yesterday morning she tripped, fell in the garden and broke her femur.   She underwent surgery at Riverbend this morning but wanted the service for my dad to go forward.   She is certainly with us in our hearts, thoughts and prayers.  And, hopefully, she is connected to the service right now through the magic of cellular technology.    We are incredibly grateful to my aunt, Shirley’s sister Edna, who is with my mom at the hospital.   I also want to thank my uncle Knute who will be reading the remembrance of Milt that Edna was going to share.

On the evening before my dad passed away, he summoned what strength he had and blessed the family members assembled around his hospital bed and connected over the miles via cell phone.   “I love you with all my heart.  I’m proud of you.   Go forward, live and enjoy life.”     In the process of dying, my dad spoke to us as he had lived … loving and enjoying his 75 years of God’s blessing on this earth.    Truly, it was life well lived and well loved.   It was a remarkable life.   It was also a well documented life.    My dad spent several years of retirement writing his autobiography, a gift that he presented to each of us at Christmas one year.   

“Milt’s Memoirs,” all 236 pages of it complete with color photos and annual supplements cannot be shared in detail today lest I break my dad’s admonition to “be brief.”   Instead, I want to share a few personal reflections and memories about Milt and his remarkable life.

There is no mistaking this fact … my dad loved his profession.   From an early age, he knew that he wanted to be a doctor and become a doctor—a surgeon—he did.   Medicine was a passion for my dad, and I have many childhood memories of the man in the white coat, the man in green scrubs, the man who received phone calls at any and every time of the day and night, the man who would start and end long days by “making rounds.”    Most of my dad’s medical practice took place in Walla Walla, the town where he grew up, and it seemed like everyone knew him.   I distinctly recall basking in his celebrity whenever we went anywhere together.   “Hello Dr. Watson” … “How’s it going Doc?” … “What’s up Doc?” …  “Doctor Watson I presume.”     I got a bit tired of that last one.   J

Surgery really suited my dad.    It took confidence, dexterity and meticulous attention to detail.    All these my dad possessed in abundance, but I think thing he really liked the most was helping people get well.   The more serious the problem, the more my dad relished the challenge and the victory over disease.   Traumatized is too strong a word, but my sister and I have seen way too many color slides of huge tumors, aortic graphs and bizarre growths that my dad removed and repaired.    Each medical mission trip report would produce the inevitable groans and calls for, “Next slide … next slide.”

Speaking of trips, my dad loved traveling the globe.   With a desire to perform surgery at mission hospitals as well as a love of culture in every form—art, sculpture, music, architecture and especially food—my dad, often with my mom, traveled to Liberia, Taiwan, China, Pakistan, England, Ireland, Israel, Mexico, Ecuador, The Galapagos, Togo, Greece, Turkey, Kazakhstan, Australia, New Zealand, Fiji, Peru, Jamaica, Guatemala, Thailand, South Africa and this list doesn’t include most of the European countries that they visited during and after the time my dad was stationed in Germany during the Vietnam War.   All these trips were documented in “Milton-style” with scrapbooks full of photos, tickets, postcards, captions, brochures and memorabilia gathered along the way.   During retirement, Milt discovered PowerPoint, read manuals, took several courses through LCC and went “digital” with his trip reports.    The PowerPoint he created for my parent’s 50^th wedding anniversary featured over 450 slides and, it nearly crashed my computer.

Beyond the human and beloved canine members of his family, beyond his work and beyond the extensive travel for service and enjoyment, my dad had several other passions.    With my mom, Milt enjoyed nothing more than working outside in the yard or tending the garden.    Immaculate landscaping, bountiful harvests, legendary EWEB water bills, beautiful flowers, interesting ornamental plants, including bonsais, were all part of this deep interest.    Classical music, opera, stamp collecting, miniature trains, jigsaw puzzles and later computer games were all activities that gave my dad a lot of enjoyment.  

But without a doubt, one of my dad’s greatest loves was the church and the God in whom he put his faith.   I saved this part of my reflection for last because my dad’s faith and trust in “the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting” was a constant theme, the literal bedrock, of his remarkable life.    He lived out this faith in love and service to others.   He passed this faith along to his children and grandchildren.   He modeled this faith through his giving of time and money and through his involvement in the church.    He clung to this faith in the final hours when he knew that death was near.    And then, he passed into the presence of the Lord where this faith, this hope and this remarkable life are complete … now and forever.   Amen.