For a man who spent his career sorting and classifying people into categories, Tom Gillaspy is hard to pigeonhole.
Gillaspy, who retired in March after 33 years as state demographer, is the first to admit that he doesn't fit the career's stereotype of an introverted number-cruncher who is happiest when digging through mounds of data. "A lot of them are like that," he conceded. "It tends to be a quiet profession."
And then there's Gillaspy: an outgoing, people person with diverse interests -- from gardening to hiking, writing poetry to teaching -- that have exploded into a post-retirement schedule that keeps him on the run.
"I'm having a lot of fun," he said. "Yesterday I left the house at 10 [a.m.] and didn't get back until 7:30 [p.m.]. Whenever I used to hear retirees say, 'I'm busier now than when I was working,' I'd say, 'What a silly statement.' Now I'm the one saying it."
Not that he was lollygagging before. As someone who believes that numbers are only as useful as people's ability to understand them, he made himself readily available to government officials and members of the media, to say nothing of the general public, to whom he delivered as many as 200 speeches a year -- although, with his usual droll wit, he pointed out that in many of those cases it was the audience that kept changing, not necessarily the speech.
"Now that I'm teaching," he said, referring to a class he's leading at the University of Minnesota, "I have the same audience every day, so I can't keep preaching the same sermon. I have to come up with a different sermon every time."
He paused a couple of seconds before adding with a chuckle: "Of course, if I teach again next year, those students won't have heard any of these."
Going from the demographer's office to the lecture hall wasn't that big of a transition for Gillaspy, who always has considered education as one of a demographer's primary functions.