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May: In Transit

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.

But what could be more blissful than a few decades of no commitments, no promises, no expectations, not being needed? Time to laze, think, dabble, meander, with no one to answer to and nowhere to be at a certain time every day. A purely experiential, rather than a productive, life, like a child who has not yet gone to school.

I suspect that either I am naturally lazier than other people (which may very well be true) or there is something about all the (intellectual, professional, maternal) productivity that is expected of women in their 20′s and 30′s that makes it hard for us to understand the benefits of remaining productive after retirement.

Does anyone have any light to shed on this for me?

I would really appreciate it. (This is a selfish rather than intellectual motivation. If there are lessons embedded in retirement that I could use to make better decisions now, I want to learn them!)

Best,

Leslie

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.

I find that now that I am retired instead of eating the cake, I joined a gym! I had joined one while working, but getting there at 5:30 a.m. didn’t cut it for me. Now I can get to the gym at times when it is not crowded and do my thing. I’m also taking a water exercise class that meets twice a week at 9 a.m. So I am trying actually to become MORE healthy as I get older because the body parts seem to be wearing thin.

I meet with friends for lunch or dinner, I read what I want when I want, I work in glass and have more time to do it. I’m planning on travelling more. And no, I don’t wear heels.

Retirement is great, but I plan to find some part-time work or volunteer work that interests me, because although I have been an avid reader all my life, one cannot spend all the time reading. I already volunteer for Hadassah and will probably do more, but I’m thinking about becoming a docent for the National Gallery of Art in addition.

What I do know, that is if you are lucky enough to be fairly healthy, there are so very many options open to pursue, and I hope to pursue many of them.

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. Continue Reading »

You know, this is exactly why I started my own blog, Life’s Third Trimester. It is my intention to help extend ourselves over the internet with all the gifts, wisdom and abilities we possess in order to do away with ageism, and to enhance even more diversity among our culture.

I feel strongly that we were and in some cases still are portrayed negatively or with amusement. But so were women for many years. How many dumb blond jokes are about men? What about stupid wife jokes. I can tell story after story from my own experience about how as a woman I was disregarded and dismissed. We have moved as women and we indeed are the leading edge. I envision us waving to the boomers behind us (at the end of their 2nd trimester) and saying “Come on in!! It’s great here!!  Really, really nothing to fear.” Let’s be a solid force for change and show true lights so others will see how aging is a positive experience.

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 think it’s time to open the window and say “I’m glad as hell I’m old and I’m going to celebrate it because old is good! And if you don’t like it, get out of the way!” Continue Reading »

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.

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