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Illustration by Nijah Smith
Growing up, I would listen to the radio for hours, playing my best “instrument” – air guitar. Repeatedly, I begged my parents for a real guitar, but their answer was always the same: “You won’t stick with it.” Despite their doubts, music remained a dream of mine, tucked away for decades.
In 2014, at the age of 66, I suffered a stroke. It was a life-altering moment that forced me to re-evaluate everything. Physically, I recovered, but emotionally and mentally, I was not the same. The stroke took something from my confidence, my drive – but it also gave me a new perspective.
For the decade that followed my stroke, I tried to reclaim the success I once knew. I had enjoyed a thriving career, working for major companies and running my own business, achieving things of which I was deeply proud. But after the stroke, the same ease and motivation eluded me. Though I tried to continue operating a business, I felt lost and unfulfilled. I realized I needed something more than memories of past accomplishments; I needed a new purpose.
Society often leaves us unprepared for the transition into retirement. We are not taught how to navigate the later phases of life meaningfully. Many of us blame external forces – the education system, and the government – but the truth is, the power to redefine ourselves lies within us.
Last June, I decided to step into an entirely new world: at 77, I decided to master music. What seemed simple at first – a scale of just seven notes – turned out to be a vast and intricate universe. I knew nothing about music theory, but that only intrigued me more.
My days became filled with triads, open chords, inversions and augmented scales. Gone were the stresses of marketing plans, forecasts and cost-cutting strategies. I did not miss them, but the stories I shared with total strangers about music have been amazing.
Along the way, inspiration came in unexpected forms. I read about the late Angela Alvarez winning a Latin Grammy at 95 for Best New Artist. I learned about the craftsmanship behind Martin Guitars in Nazareth, Penn.
Even films like Find Me Falling reminded me of the enduring allure of the guitar. These stories fueled my determination.
Today, I own two guitars and a keyboard. One of my guitars is a 2001 Canadian-made Art & Lutherie acoustic cherrywood, and the other is a 1950 Kay Model 161 electric, which holds a special place in my heart because it was a cherished gift from my aunt and the guitar is as old as I am.
After being refurbished, it became more than just a playable instrument, it is a family heirloom and a collectible. Its sound is still as clear and resonant as a bell.
To me, a guitar, especially this one, is more than an object; it is art, an extension of its owner’s soul. Given a chance, it will make beautiful sounds reflecting the person performing.
Music has become my new purpose. It has transformed not only how I now listen to songs but also how I experience life. Not only do I now listen to the words in every song, but I also see beauty in things I used to take for granted.
I am continually learning. This journey has enriched me in ways I never imagined, replacing the fear of retirement with excitement for the future.
I am still a novice at playing the guitar and keyboard, though I have achieved advanced knowledge in music theory.
Finding a website that combines lyrics, chords and strumming patterns seamlessly has been a challenge — but I finally found one. Most instructors seem to assume you already know the basics, which can make learning frustrating.
A friend once asked me how one gets to Carnegie Hall; I thought you rent the building, but his answer was practice, practice, practice – sound advice.
Retirement is not an end; it is a new beginning. Happiness does not come from doing nothing; it comes from having a purpose. Whether through exercise, travel, hobbies or new ventures, we all need something to keep us engaged. For me, that purpose is music.
To anyone feeling unmoored by life’s transitions, I encourage you to revisit a dream you once considered unreachable.
It is never too late to grow, to learn and to find joy in new beginnings. A few words of encouragement from friends and family are so important.
Life is meant to be a rewarding adventure. Embrace it, as long as there is a dream there is life.
Alan Howat lives in Edmonton.
