A bit dodgy way to get your attention. I want to talk about retired, the word. First, my credentials.
By choice, retirement occurred in 1995 for two reasons. At 62, I was ready to close my 20-year psychotherapy practice, and we'd found a bargain apartment in New York City. Moving back to where we began leads Ron, my spouse, to note, "We're like spawning salmon who return to their birthplace."
Eleven years have passed. What have I learned? Retirement is not for kids; it's hard work. It definitely has been for me--challenged to establish a new dailyness in a new place. People I'd known back when I last lived here, had mostly left town. Went to art classes, workshops. Was a docent for the Lower East Side Tenement Museum, a place you must visit if you care about 19th century immigration. Doing that once a week kept me in shape: 5 flights of stairs, up and down. I loved the variety of people from all over the country and world who came--some with memories of grandparents who started out in America in crowded apartments in the neighborhood.
Beside that performing, I developed Composting in Manhattan on living in an apartment with red wiggler worms. As many early retirees do, we traveled-- Mexico, China, Canada. Once our first grandchild was born in Portland, Oregon, more trips there. The challenge of retirement in the 21st century--even when it is by choice--is to find an on-goingness to the days without a work schedule.
At the same time, Ron continued to do workshops around the country and in the City. That was familiar to me, but I'd tell him that he was not really retired until there was nothing on the calendar for the following month. But even he noticed people not responding as when he was working fulltime. Socially, I found a resonance between identifying myself as retired and the time I was a youngish mother at home. Another form of what Betty Freidan spoke of in The Feminine Mystique. We become invisible without a paid work role.
Writing today about the current "problem with no name," Ronni Bennett's blog takes a curious turn in "Choking on Being Retired." She justifiably expresses her anger with how prospective employers respond to older applicants--just the way some do to me at parties--if they even notice the white-haired woman in their presence. But then she stops! As one of her commenters notes, Ronni herself has been a force in getting attention toward elders and their issues.
I've noticed since I've joined the Elderblog ranks that you out there, hardly show me your face. Every now and then someone boldly steps forward. Golden Lucy D, full of beans at 85, revealed herself in glam dress-up for a family wedding. That was different. When Claude from Blogging in Paris met up in Boston with Millie Garfield we saw a photo on Millie's blog of two women of a certain age having a great time. No red hats required.
Please tell me you're okay with being more visible-- on your blog, in the public square. To paraphrase ACT UP, "We're here, get used to us!"
[*Everything you need to know about knitting your own Vegan Fox is online.]
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