The world’s mine oyster, which I with sword will open.
— William Shakespeare
Knowing Pistol is a blowhard, Falstaff doesn't take the veiled threat seriously.
But the English-speaking world has.
"The world's your oyster" we are prompt to say to anyone who's unsure about her next avenue.
It is advice I'd freely offer kids, teens, and twenty-somethings fresh out of college.
It's also advice I'd offer retirees.
Especially retirees.
So often I hear retirees say that they can't decide how to spend their time productively—that the opportunities to accomplish good things are few and that they lack the know-how needed.
It's a shame our language has forgotten the second half of Pistol's threat, or else we'd say: The world's your oyster if you carry a sharp blade.
Sound like strange advice?
That's because large rivers like the Thames teemed with oysters in their day, supplying London with cartloads of the cheap and savory snack.
You should realize that Shakespeare's audience would not have found it so.
Being voracious consumers of oysters, they would have grasped it—as they did Pistol's words—instantly.
Playgoers in particular liked to chomp on oysters during performances at the Globe, as archeological evidence shows.
They knew full well oysters demanded a sharp blade.
So when Pistol called the world his oyster "which I with sword will open," they caught his drift immediately: Oysters are everywhere; they're tasty—and some even have pearls; all you need do is open them.
What a crime it would be to waste them for lack of a sharp instrument.
Call it what you will—retraining, reskilling, upskilling, or lifetime learning—keeping your blade sharp is a prerequisite to fulfillment in your final years on Earth.
So get off your ass and get busy acquiring a few new skills.
The world's your oyster.
Still.