Last month Leslie, the mother of two-year old twins and starting a new career, wrote this on our blog following a chat with her mother, who is contemplating what to do next now that she is approaching retirement at 65:
Life before 65 is just practice.
The way I see it, you work hard for sixty-odd years, and then you finally get what you’ve been waiting for. I’m only about halfway there at this point. It seems like I’m never going to get there. But when I do… look out!
When I finally get there, I am going to eat fewer vegetables and go on cholesterol medication and save room for cake. I’m going to sleep all I want. I’m going to read all the books I never had time to read and write all the things I never had time to write.
I’m going to do only the things I want to do and spend time only with people I like.
I’m going to cultivate the deep internal dialogue that can only happen in periods of absolute stillness.
And I’ll never, ever get a blister from wearing high heels ever again.
What can we tell Leslie? What can we tell Leslie’s mother? Do these sentiments reflect how you feel about the transitions, past and present, that you have faced? What have you learned that can help people like Leslie prepare for her future? Share your thoughts with us.
Interesting to see the perspective from the other side of 65. I suppose that, when I talked about my plans for retirement, it described what I would do if I retired now, without having learned all the lessons one learns between 30 and 65.These lessons probably include things like, “You feel better when you take care of your body” and “Investing in your health is worth it in the short term, not just the long term.”It probably also includes some lesson like, “Having nothing to do is no fun.” This I can intuit, but I can’t yet understand. It’s such a prevalent notion, and millions of retirees intentionally stay busy when they don’t have to, so I have to believe that it is valid.
Well, I did retire last year. Still not gettig all the sleep I would like to have, but it is nice not to HAVE to get up at a specific time. On the other hand, sleep may be overrated. It takes time away from living.
Some years ago, when I was living in San Diego a friend of mine took me aside at a party given by a mutual friend to ask me how I felt about some of us “seniors” (women, that is) starting a political activist group. I thought it was a great idea. Eight women and one man (a colleague of mine from San Diego State-History Department) met to discuss our focus. We became the Board. The biggest problem we ran into during the first few organizational meetings was what to call ourselves. 
You know, this is exactly why I started my own blog, 
I suggest another strategy. Let’s go on the offensive and celebrate being seniors and reclaim the word, not shun it—like gay people have done with the word “queer” and some Jews with the word “Hebe.” What’s a term for endearment in the Black community? The N word!
I hate being a caregiver. I have been one for five years. Life was not supposed to be like this. I awaken every morning with the same feeling in the pit of my stomach. Daily chores again! When do I get time off? He can do some things for himself but life has chained me to this man I married 65 years ago. His life is now what it is. He cannot hear so I am his ears. He cannot see so I am his eyes. I am his constant companion. I do take off for a 45 minute walk every morning, and I do things without him for a few hours one day a week. But I hate being a caretaker. I want someone to care for me as I take care of him.
