It puts you in touch with your mortality.

Widowed at 29 and the mother of 17-month-old baby, Maureen Scott turned a job at a Hollywood department store into an executive career. When retirement ended it, she found a new outlet for her talents -- as a senior-center volunteer.

I never thought I would retire because I had this marvelous life as a buyer for department stores. I spent three months in the Orient on two different trips. Before that I spent seven weeks a year in Europe. I had 15 years of overseas travel, and I was having a good time.

I never thought about getting old. Back in ‘79, I sold my house up in the hills and bought a store on Ventura Boulevard. At the same time, I managed a big wholesale complex. It never occurred to me that I was 58 or 59. I just figured that was the next thing you did in life.

I lost my buns on the store. I had a big movie trade and that’s when the studios began to have their problems. But it was OK, now we do the next thing. I kept working downtown until about three years ago, and I just got too tired. Suddenly the years caught up. Because of high blood pressure, I retired at 63. That was a shock to wake up one morning and have nowhere to be at nine o’clock and not have a lot of people to boss around.

I never, never thought that I was going to become a senior. I never thought about dying, and I never thought about retiring. I took each day as it came and enjoyed it.

I’m bored at home, so I do what I call cruising. I start out in the morning and I’ll go to a museum or I’ll go shopping, then I’ll go to lunch. I’d heard about the senior center in North Hollywood, but I knew nothing about it. One day, when I was cruising, I found it and walked in. I just wasn’t prepared for what I saw. I had a pair of jeans on and their hair was white. Underneath the dye my hair is white, but I don’t show it. It just turned me off completely.

So I turned around and started to walk out and this gorgeous female, Joan, came out of her office and asked if she could help me. I said, “No, you don’t have anything here for me, thank you though.” But Joan doesn’t let up. So she said, “Tell me a little about you,” and I told her very little. And she said, “There are a few things you might like. There’s a political group.” I said, “No, I’m not a joiner.” She said, “Well maybe you’d like to volunteer.” I said, “Maybe I would, what could I do?” She said, “Information and referral on the phone.”

In about a month I sashayed back over there and started working two days a week, maybe four hours one day and three another answering the phone. I became absolutely fascinated about what was going on. I found out what supplementary income is. I’d never heard of meals for the homebound. I’d never heard of Alzheimer’s. I’d lived in a retail world since I was 18. I could tell you about going in and out of India and all that sort of thing, but I didn’t know anything about this because it wasn’t part of my life.

About six months later, she said they had an opening for a volunteer coordinator and would I be interested. Well, I had nothing to do anyway so I said, “Yeah, I would love to.” With that I started to work over there 20 hours a week. I look for volunteers, who, with the limited staff, actually make everything possible at the center. We get approximately 1,200 to 1,500 hours a month of volunteer help. People work with the Alzheimer’s group, people do our typing and people work like horses to put on the annual rummage sale, which is a fund-raising event.

I love the center for what it does for other people, but it has aged me. People are dying, and you see these blessed people with Alzheimer’s and you know, there but for the grace of God. It puts you in touch with your mortality. It changes your whole feeling about yourself. I even had a will made the other day. I never figured I was going to die. I guess I will.

I must have a need to do things for other people. Otherwise I wouldn’t go back there. I’m not inclined to be benevolent, but I love going over there, and I get something from it. I don’t just give to it, I get from it.