The joy of giving

I guess it seems strange to some (given the reactions I've gotten from friends and family), but I've dreamed of volunteering for years. When I was working nearly 11-hour days during the career phase of my life, I just didn't have it in me to give time to others at the end of the day, and my weekends were the only free time I had, so they were too precious to give up on an ongoing basis. So, when I did volunteer work during my that time, it was a few hours here, a one-day event there, but it wasn't the kind of volunteering I wanted to do. That would have to wait for retirement.

I've now been retired for 1 1/2 years. In that time, I've given of my time by answering phones for the State welfare office, fundraising for an animal sanctuary, attending meetings of an emergency preparedness organization, reading to preschool children and interviewing and writing profiles of people doing good works for a volunteer- and over-50-focused website. I've gone from working 10-11 hours a day to working 10-11 hours a week (at most). My goal was to find a balance between being of service and being retired--and that's just what I've done.

I've been reading to preschool children at a Head Start school for nearly a year now. Back when I was dreaming of volunteering in retirement, literacy was always a field with which I wanted to be involved. I found a fantastic organization called "Read Aloud," whose mission is to not only prepare children for school and help them excel, but to actually foster a love of reading and books. Being a lifelong and avid reader, this was a mission that I could enthusiastically support.

About two months ago, I had an idea to do something special for "my kids" at the school. I started to buy children's books from Amazon in batches--focusing on books on sale when I could--to make my goal of giving every child I read to a book for Christmas. After checking with the school and with Read Aloud, I got the green light to make it happen.

The week before Christmas, I arrived with a big bag of books to my Monday afternoon class. I explained that, instead of reading to them, each child would get to choose from a selection of books as a gift from me. The kids couldn't believe it. "I can take this HOME with me?!?" many of them said as they made their choices. Their eyes got wide when I wrote each of their names in their book. "You're going to WRITE IN IT?!" they'd say in shock. "Yes," I'd answer, smiling, "because this is YOUR book to do whatever you want with." Their smiles said it all.

On Wednesday morning, I did it all again with my other class. The teacher gathered all the children with their books and took a picture of me with the class. As I was packing up to go, two little girls came up and gave me big hugs and said thank you. Maybe I gave a lot in dollars and books, but those two hugs and all the smiles in that picture were a priceless gift to me.

The joy of a hot bath

When I lived in my built-in-1958 Virginia apartment, I had a REAL tub--none of this fiberglass hogwash--and I loved to take baths. Not just any baths. Bubblebaths. I collected bubblebath scents the way some women collect shoes. If it was a weekend and I wasn't expected anywhere too soon, sometimes I even took candlelit bubblebaths...with the lights off, candles twinkling around the edge of the tub and music playing (Nat King Cole was my favorite bathtime crooner).

Since I moved into my built-in-2006 retirement condo at the beach in Delaware, I have had to come to grips with the world of fiberglass bathroom fixtures. I don't mind it so much in my master bathroom, where I have a nice big walk-in shower stall that doesn't require me to cling to walls and towel bars in order to climb in (short legs, ya know).

The only tub in the joint now is a fiberglass one. It's shorter than my old ceramic tub; you'd think that would be a benefit since I'm a shorty; I'm not yet convinced. The worst thing about my tub is that it is damned uncomfortable--for me at least. You see, it is angled at the back--supposedly to make it more comfortable to soak in--but being a shorty, it just doesn't fit me right and I can't get comfortable, even with a washcloth folded behind my neck.

Quickly, my bubblebath habit went by the wayside. What's the use of taking a bubblebath if you can't relax and enjoy it? I mean, isn't that the POINT of bubblebaths? My Bath & Body Works bubblebath collection sat neglected under the sink, holding up a pile of bathmats. I love my place and I'm not willing to move to get a better bathtub but, man, it was a bummer.

Cut to almost two years later and I've got some kind of ick in my throat and my head and it's the weekend, which means my doctor's office isn't open. My neck and shoulders are killing me, probably because I've been sleeping weirdly because I can't breathe or swallow. I was starting to turn the corner and feel a little better. I hadn't showered because I was dizzy, weak, had the chills, etc., and was afraid I'd keel over in the shower.

Then it came to me--a bath. A bubblebath! "Oh, but it's uncomfortable." came the voice of my Inner Grump. I was beyond caring. When you're already feeling that bad, almost anything is going to be an improvement. While I ran a nice hot bath, I shuffled between my master bath and the guest bath (where the tub is), ferrying necessities.

Suddenly, caught up in my excitement, I noticed my dog looking at me quizzically. First, I realized that, to her, the tub filling means SHE'S getting a bath. Which means that, in the entire year since I'd adopted her, she'd never seen me take a bath. Wow. Long time no bath!

When I sank into that hot, coconut- and vanilla-scented water, every part of my body let out a collective AHHHH. Not only did I find a way to be comfortable (rolled hand towel vs. washcloth), I completely forgot I was sick and that my throat hurt so bad I couldn't eat solid food. It was a complete escape. A complete joy.

I could almost hear the bubbles welcoming me back. "Ah, old friend. Welcome home!"

The joy of another year

Yesterday was my birthday. It's an odd feeling for me to realize that I'm now closer to 60 than to 50! Somehow, I still think of myself as 51 or 52 but the reality is that I'm now 57. I was a bit past the halfway point between age 55 and 56 when I retired last year.

Once I'd disclosed that I was pretty certain that I'd be retiring as soon as I was qualified (my 55th birthday), my hairdresser at the time, a very sweet and caring woman a few years older than me, gave me doom and gloom talks about early retirement at every monthly appointment . She said that her clients who retired early shrivelled up (metaphorically speaking, I assume), had medical problems, were depressed, etc., while her clients who were still working in their 60s and beyond were vital, healthy and full of life. She said she didn't want to see this same fate befall me and I could tell that she was genuinely concerned--she really saw early retirement as the kiss of death. If I am to be honest, it freaked me out for a while.

As touched by her worry as I was, I knew that it was time for me to go. I'd put in 37 years with the Federal government and 32 of them with the same agency. There were many years when I really enjoyed my job, but those years were starting to become a memory. I had been reorganized so many times that it was a wonder I could remember what floor to get off on when I came to work in the morning so, when I was once again thrown into another division with no warning in late 2006, my spirit took a major hit. That was the beginning of the end.

Two years ago today, I signed the contract on my new home at the beach. It marked the beginning of a new phase of life. In the space of that year--October 2007 to October 2008--I bought my first home, moved to another state, retired from my job and adopted a puppy. Now that's what I call a vital, full-of-life year!

In the past year--October 2008 to October 2009--I have done a number of volunteer jobs: answering phones for the State welfare office, reading to pre-school children at a HeadStart school, fund-raising for a no-kill animal shelter and writing for a website dedicated to inspiring Baby Boomers to volunteer. If I've done any shrivelling since my retirement, it's only due to age and osteoarthritis of my spine. Through my volunteer work with these organizations, I have met incredible people who are doing incredible things for their community, their State or beyond. These people inspire me to be more and give more.

When I was about to retire, a coworker said "Why would you want to retire so early and just sit in a rocking chair?" And I responded "Who said anything about sitting in a rocking chair?!?" Sure, I spend a lot of time at home...but then I always have (when I wasn't working). I strive for a balance between being retired and being of service...and that is what will keep me healthy and vital, along with going to the gym a few times a week and taking my dog for long walks daily.

So yes, I am thankful for another year...to be retired, to help others, to make friends, to be a puppy mama, to be a writer and a reader and to do nothing at all if I feel like it!!!

You know the old saying...another year older is preferable to the alternative!

The joy of finding the right fit

No, I'm not talking about clothes shopping, although finding clothes that fit is pretty joyful too, especially when you are built like me (short and stout, like the teapot song). I'm talking about finding a job (volunteer in my case) that fits your skill set to the point where you gain quite a bit of enjoyment in doing the job.

For the last 20+ years of my 37-year Federal Government career, I was (in part) a reader and editor of technical material and a writer of technical documentation (not technical as in computers, but as in regulations). Reading and writing have been interests of mine for as long as I can remember; I was writing poems and short stories from at least the age of 12.

I retired from the Government last year (summer of 2008), moved to the beach, and and went in search of meaningful work as a volunteer. I figured that, after giving 37 years of my life to the Government, it was time for me to do something I really LIKED to do. But what? My initial thought was that I wanted to volunteer in the fields of literacy and animal welfare.

I began my search on Volunteer Match (http://www.volunteermatch.org/), a great website where you can plug in your zip code and some parameters about what kind of volunteering you want to do into its search engine, and it will spit out a list of potential volunteer jobs. The problem was that list I was given for my new zip code in Delaware was only a tiny fraction of the list I used to get when I lived in the Washington, D.C. area. However, via that website, I discovered the Retired and Senior Volunteer Program (RSVP) for the county in which I lived.

I met with one of the RSVP coordinators right after I retired; I wanted to start some kind of volunteer work right away to help me transition from being a full-time worker to a lady of leisure. It just so happened that the State Department of Social Services (DSS) needed help answering phones. It wasn't what I had in mind, but I figured it was something I could get started on right away and would be easy-peasy and not stressful. WRONG!

Despite the fact that working at DSS often made me miserable, I kept doing it for 11 months because I really enjoyed the people I worked with. In the meantime, though, I started some other projects--reading to preschool children at HeadStart through the Read Aloud program, doing occasional fundraising for the county's first no-kill animal sanctuary, and attending board meetings of an animal disaster assistance organization.

Finally, in the spring of 2009, when I was reaching the end of my rope at DSS, RSVP offered me a new gig--a new nonprofit organization was starting up in Delaware and they needed someone from my county to write articles, interview people, take pictures at events, etc. BINGO! Now we were talking!

I've been volunteering for Coming of Age Delaware (CoADE) for a few months now. I quit my DSS job to allow me to devote more time to it (okay, it gave me an excuse to quit). While it may not excite me greatly (CoADE hopes to inspire those over 50 to volunteer and do other community service), it is a good fit for my skill set and I'm really enjoying it. I've written five articles for their newsletter and website (http://www.de.comingofage.org/). Three of them have been published thus far, and the other ones should be published in the coming month.

It gives me a thrill to have finally found a good fit. Maybe not the same kind of thrill as finding a pair of pants that can cope with both my ample posterier and my smaller waist, but a thrill indeed.

The joy of community

After being raised in a tiny 2-stoplight town in Ohio (where I knew almost everyone), I spent 37 years of my life in a major metropolitan area--in and around Washington, D.C. For 32 of those years, I lived in a small, older family-owned apartment complex in Alexandria, Virginia. In 32 years, I never had a neighbor who invited me into their home, nor did I invite any of them into mine. In my last number of years there, there were two older ladies--one next door and one across the street--who were pretty much the only people who spoke to me. I only knew my next door neighbor's name because I regularly got her mail.

When I would go out walking in my complex, I would smile and say hello or good morning to everyone I passed. Many people didn't even acknowledge me much less return my greeting or smile at me. This angered me. I thought--what is so hard about just smiling or saying hello? Why would you NOT? I never understood it and, while I enjoyed the area, it made me sad not to feel a sense of community in a place where I had spent more than 3 decades of my life.

Last year, I retired and moved to a small beach town on the Eastern Shore. My best friends had lived there for 20 years and I had visited regularly over the years. I called it my home away from home. During the years when my job and its attendant stress were taking a toll on me, this town and my friends' home was my escape and asylum from the madness.

I now live in a small condo community. Thus far (we are a new community), it is an all-adult community and predominately over 50, with perhaps 35% full-timers and 65% weekenders. For the first 6 months or so I lived here, I was the only full-timer in my building and only 1 of 3 or so full-timers in the entire community. There were moments when I thought "Here we go again." and wondered if I would ever feel the sense of community that I had hoped for; but, as more units sold, I got more neighbors--mostly weekenders but some more full-timers too.

Not quite 1 1/2 years after moving here, I finally feel that sense of community that I had craved. I love my neighbors! They are such wonderful people. I adopted a puppy last fall and the community has turned into a major "dog town." I have met most of the community before they even moved in, thanks to walking my VERY cute dog and living near the sales office. :)

I'm involved, via volunteering, with animal welfare, childhood literacy, human welfare and the over 50 population, which further gives me that sense of community--of being OF and doing FOR--and I am the happiest I have been in many, many years. When I walk my dog in this development and the next development over, people wave. Some come over to talk to me and pet Missy. I am meeting new people all the time. My dog has her community of pup pals too. :)

Change was a long time comin' as the song says...but it was well worth the wait.

The joy of retirement

Two weeks from today (on May 31), I will celebrate the first anniversary of the day I retired. I spent 37 years working for the Federal Government--the last 10 or so years in a very busy and stressful job. I hadn't planned to retire until I maxed out (i.e., until I had a high enough combination of years worked and age that my pension was as high as it was going to get, which would be another few years) but, as it turned out, I didn't make it that far.

In late 2006, I wasn't sure I was even mentally ready to retire (though I wouldn't qualify until late 2008 anyway). Shortly before my boss Frank's departure that fall, I asked him how he felt about his retirement and shared my concerns about whether I was ready to do the same. He said "Once you start to seriously think about retirement, you start leaning in that direction--and once you start leaning, it's hard to stop." By that point in my career, I knew exactly what he meant. It was one thing to be wistful and envious as many of our coworkers said their goodbyes, but to really seriously start fantasizing about being retired meant trouble.

Despite his warning, that is exactly what I did. I started to lean. I don't know if it was intentional or not. I still didn't know whether I was ready to go, but staying was starting to be a much less desirable prospect than going. In the spring of 2007, both of my staff members left for other jobs within months of one another. I held down the fort alone for several months, until we were able to hire one replacement. During this time, I got terribly sick. I was off work for two entire weeks. Well, it is more accurate to say that I was out of the office for two weeks, because I was still running things via email and phone from home.

Not too long after I returned to work, I had my mid-year performance evaluation with my new boss. I told him that those two weeks had given me a lot of time to think, and that one of the things I was thinking about was retiring as soon as I qualified (October 2008, when I would turn 55). As was my custom, I went to the beach for the week of my birthday. I drove from one condo development to the next for days trying to find my retirement home. On the day after my birthday, I bought a condo (some birthday present, eh?).

I came back to work and broke the news--I bought a condo at the beach...I can't afford to live and pay mortgage/rent and bills in both places...so I need to retire. We worked out a deal--I would move to the beach and telecommute all but one day a week, when I would drive back to the DC area and spend one day in the office. I moved to the beach on January 20, 2008, and drove back to DC once a week for 4 months, retiring as of May 31.

It is almost unbelievable to me that it has been a year--I guess this is what they mean when they say "time flies when you're having fun"! It has been a wonderful year. I am SO loving my home and living at the beach...I've kept myself busy with volunteer work and decorating and furnishing my home...and I adopted a puppy in October.

I thought I would have a tough time adapting--going from a Type A harried work life 10 1/2 hours a day to being retired--but, to my surprise, I had absolutely no problem adapting! Sure, I miss the people, but I don't miss feeling like a wound-up top every day; and I CERTAINLY don't miss traffic in the Washington, DC area, which sets new records for insanity every year.

I have a great home, wonderful neighbors, I am being of service to my community and I have the cutest dog in town (who makes me laugh every day). What's not to like?

So, if it feels right, go ahead and lean. I did, and I have never regretted it for a single minute.

The joy of flight

Yesterday, I was sitting here--in my home office, on the PC--when this strange noise arose outside my window. As it got louder, I realized what it was. I looked out my window and smiled, as what seemed like hundreds of snow geese winged right over me, honking up a storm. A few minutes later, another phalanx (my word--not sure it is apropos for a gaggle of snow geese) flew over.

It appears that I am on the flight path! One could, I suppose, consider such cacophony a nuisance, but I do not. I see it as a gift. Granted, if that much honking went on all day and all night, THEN I might find it a nuisance; but, as it is, it is just an occasional treat--to be witness to the joy of flight.