Keeping One Step Ahead of the Dinosaurs

“Mommy, long, long ago, when you were a little girl, were there dinosaurs around?” Judi was 5 and I was 33. In her eyes, I was old. Her question was not meant to be sharp, but it impaled me.

Today, young Americans have a similarly distorted perception of those of us who see ourselves as “aging gracefully.” They look upon us as the homogenized elderly: stoop-shouldered and slow-moving, sitting idly on benches, watching time go by. In our own mirrors, however, we see a different reflection: changing times and attitudes allow us to wash out some gray, straighten the shoulders and soften the lines.

I retired as director of volunteer services for Family Service of Los Angeles 11 years ago; five years later, my husband, and I moved to San Diego’s North County. I had not yet attained chronological “senior status,” but I was ready for a change. Several years later, I reached my seniority, and, to my surprise and delight, dinners, movies and flight tickets became quite reasonable, and a variety of people began to open doors for me.

Indeed, from the moment of retirement, my life took a most comfortable turn. I gave up early mornings, work schedules, evening appointments, boring commuting hours on the freeways, interminable meetings with so many who had so much to say and so little to teach.

I have never turned back and wished that I was once again on the job I had genuinely enjoyed. Nor have I warmed up the rocking chair, or buried myself in a shawl. I meet only my dentist and hairdresser at dawn: it is best to see them at the top of their performance. I do keep a calendar of appointments, but it is written in pencil, to be altered or canceled easily. Only those dates made with grandson, Matthew, 2, are immutable.

Returning from a trip, I no longer find a stack of unfinished business requiring my “immediate attention,” only the usual catalogues and bills. Some things never change.

We live at the southwest corner of the Lake San Marcos community, which is, by and large, a society of seniors. I do not know the statistics, but I do know what I see: couples in the grocery store doing the week’s shopping, often holding hands, taking their time to read labels and compare prices. Living in a community of younger people, I rarely saw a couple shopping; one of the two usually was at work. Only newlyweds and the elderly go shopping in pairs.

At the golf course and in the tennis areas, many of us take advantage of the greens and the courts. We are active; our games are competitive. In the twilight hours of the day, some young people appear, after work. We seniors always speculate, “Wonder where they come from, whose grandchildren are they?”

But is that all there is to retirement/senior status: shop and play?

Indeed not! In between the leisure hours, I, for one, sit at this word processor and try to justify this new career, chosen for my later years. I struggle with words and concepts as hard as I ever fought my way through a staff conference at Family Service.

And then there are volunteer responsibilities. My husband and I manage a national association of retired rabbis, a time-consuming, satisfying task. Working together is an added bonus; our professional paths have intersected in retirement as they could not when we were both wage-earners. In addition, each of us is called upon for informal counseling and consulting, using skills for which we were trained long, long ago when the “dinosaurs were around.”

Drawing upon old skills and discovering new ones are our keys to fulfillment during these special years. We are not alone. Recently, in the office of the North County Interfaith Council, I met a retired gentleman who has been counseling the homeless and the poor weekly for the past six years, as a volunteer. The professional staff noted that many of their counselors are retired doctors, psychiatrists, social workers, each of whom is a volunteer.

Here at the Lake, many of us have continuing careers, as well as new ones, but now we work at our own speed, at our own convenience, at projects we select.

My husband, retired from his former responsibilities as a rabbi, gains tremendous satisfaction when invited to substitute for colleagues. A neighbor, a retired Navy officer and department store trouble-shooter, is now launching a writing career. A former public schoolteacher is busy teaching English to recently arrived Mexicans. A retired Marine is succeeding in the real estate business. A pharmacist is coaching kids and involving himself in the political life of the lake.

Not everyone shapes a new and different “job.” Some neighbors are dedicated gardeners, working among the flowers, a joy for which they never before found time; others read voraciously, without guilt. Many are deeply involved in church work. One neighbor took his hobby seriously and opened a local fishing tackle store.

I have not yet rapped on doors to learn the details of my neighbors’ preoccupations, but when, each week, I see the pretty widow standing in high heels on the front sill, 3 feet off the ground, washing her windows and chatting amiably with passers-by, I know that I must speak with her to discover what keeps her 80-plus years young.

Staying young during retirement and/or the loss of a spouse is a challenge. Many cope successfully, in a variety of ways. Some become volunteers: teaching literacy, grandparenting someone else’s isolated grandkids, helping the poor file income tax returns or counseling the hungry and the homeless; others have opted for second careers.

Staying healthy is no less a challenge. Is there something special about health care for silver-haired citizens? I intend to share with you creative ways some have chosen to stay well and cope with everyday living. We can learn and benefit from each other.

EDITOR’S NOTE: At 68, Agnes Herman may be retired, but she’s not retiring. Besides many volunteer activities, she has been a frequent contributor to the San Diego County Opinion Page. In Shades of Gray, a column for and about North County’s older residents, she will blend practical information with insight and humor--and a measure of her personal philosophy of getting the most out of life and every situation. Look for Shades of Gray on the fourth Thursday of the month in North County Focus.