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 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.