WordSisters

Category: Reflection

  • What’s Your Approach?

    Earlier this month, I celebrated the 8th anniversary of my retirement at 61. Occasionally, I have floundered, but I’m happy with the shape it’s taken. Many of my friends are retired or nearing it, and I’ve observed a range of philosophies:

    Nonretirement – For several writers and artists I know, retirement looks like slowing down, not quitting. They have fewer paid jobs but they’re still working. Or they have a big project underway which might be published or shown later. 

    No schedule, no plans – Some people prefer the freedom to choose their activities day by day. For years they were yoked to a commute and an office. They feel they’ve paid their dues and earned the right to do whatever appeals to them on any given day. They hate the idea being locked into a schedule and resist planning too far ahead. I’ve noticed more men choosing this style.

    A bit of structure – These retirees prefer several days of planned activities but want lots of free time, too. Their schedule might include workouts or sports, socializing with friends, and weekly volunteer gigs. They also value unscheduled time and are careful not to pile too many events into one day. This approach often appeals to women. I belong to this camp.

    Always busy – This group is eager to do everything. All the time. For as long as possible. While the first three groups like to travel, these retirees travel even more. They’re adventuresome and willing to try whatever looks fun, which could be a class, a biking/hiking/kayaking group, a tour or whatever. They’re an enthusiastic bunch and want to be sure they do it all before time runs out.

    Aimless – Some people struggle with retirement because they miss the structure work provided (even though they resented the job at times). They don’t know what to do with themselves. With so much free time, their days can feel empty. They have trouble getting projects accomplished because there’s always tomorrow.

    Not loving it – Some retirees really don’t like retirement. Often, they are accomplished people who were well-respected in their field. Work provided focus and was integral to their identity. Retirement feels like a loss. The activities they try are pleasant but feel like make-work—time-fillers. They want their pursuits to be meaningful and have purpose, but they haven’t found fulfilling interests yet.

    Combo – A person new to retirement may sample several approaches before finding a satisfying mix. Shifting away from paid work can be as confusing and life-changing as starting a career. Many times, people aren’t sure what they want or what will feel like time well-spent.

    So much of a person’s approach to retirement depends on their temperament. What do they value most—freedom, balance, drive, accomplishment? Are they self-motivated or do they need outside structure in their days? 

    What has worked for you? Or how do you envision your future retirement?

  • Three Summertime Favorites

    This summer’s smoky air has forced me to confront the many effects of climate change. While I shop for an electric or hybrid vehicle, I’m consciously turning away from my anxious dismay to remind myself of three favorite summertime experiences.

    Fireflies at the University of Minnesota Arboretum 

    Walking the hardwood paths and wildflower fields at dusk, when the grounds are usually closed, was magical. The air was warm and still. The land exhaled. At first, we saw a spark of light here and there in the shadows. As dusk deepened to near dark, small clouds of fireflies shimmered in meadows and swamps. Flashed On. Off. On. Off. A silent conversation. A symphony of light.

    ShrinerFest 

    In a week, my extended family will gather for a weekend in Chicago we call ShrinerFest. I continue to be delighted and surprised my siblings, their far-flung children, spouses or beaus, and grandchildren love this get-together. We’re all so different—from introverted scientists to outgoing sales managers—and hold a range of political and religious views. But we sidestep all that and just enjoy catching up, eating, laughing, eating, teasing. One young niece even illustrated a book about ShrinerFest for a school project.

    Drinking wine on my small porch in the evening

    We sit in the glowing circle of lamplight. I stretch out on the loveseat reading a novel while my husband reads tomorrow’s news today. The dozens of birds inhabiting our blue spruce are silent. City buses trundling by interrupt the KBEM jazz or blues on the radio. Now and then we hear the cry of a small animal—a rabbit? Chipmunk? I’m not enough of a naturalist to know. The ceiling fan stirs humid air that’s cooled to comfortable by 10 o’clock. The neighborhood quiets. We sip and read.

  • The Fierce Urge to Tell Our Stories

    Anne Frank was a vivacious teenager and a keen observer of human nature. She wrote well and her diary often includes deft characterizations of schoolmates, family, and the other people in hiding with her family. When I recently reread her famous diary in preparation for visiting her family’s hiding place in Amsterdam, I was impressed by her lively mind.

    Initially, she wrote to sort out her feelings—the same impulse that has prompted me to keep a journal off and on since I was a teenager. Putting my feelings into words helps me understand them. Airing out something on the page calms me and enables me to move on. 

    At first, Anne Frank meant her diary to be private. When she was 15, she heard a radio broadcast about a Dutch official who wanted to collect war stories and experiences, so she edited her diary in hopes it might be published one day. Unlike Anne Frank, I don’t want my journals shared with others. They’re histories of cranky confusion, and without context, they would likely distress family or friends once I’m gone and can’t explain.

    After her family went into hiding, her diary also served as a record of how they lived—what their space looked like, what their meals were, and what their daily schedule was. As the war intensified, she recorded bombing raids and news updates.

    Shortly after I finished the Anne Frank book, my sister asked me to refresh her memory about our great great grandmother—Katherine O’Tanney Feeley who emigrated from Ireland in the late 1800’s. To answer, I searched handwritten notes from my mother and father—a story here, a date and detail there. Some of the notes are sketchy and incomplete, but I decided I would make sense of them in a Word document so others in my family will have a record.

    Anne Frank’s story has touched millions all over the world in the decades since she wrote it. I have no such expectation for the family record I’m assembling. All I have are snippets of stories, not much to go on. Perhaps a few family members will have a mild interest. Hearing about people you never knew (even if they’re related to you) can be boring. 

    I’m fascinated by the urge to write journals and record family histories. Beyond that is the widespread wish to share the content of our days on social media or like I’m doing with this blog. People across all eras and cultures have felt this fierce need to tell our stories and understand who we are and who we came from. Sometimes we’re saying, “Here’s what happened.” Other times the wish to share is a way of saying, “I’m here. I matter.”

    Anne Frank could not have imagined how much her story would matter or how many readers would be touched by her words.

    Although my intentions and hopes for my writing differ from Anne Frank’s, I feel a kinship with that young woman born almost a century ago.