Retirement and Relocation: Adventure and Challenge

I sat there in the middle of the boxes, boxes everywhere, big ones, small ones, and ones too heavy to move. I couldn’t find the dining room table anymore and, as I looked around that early morning in late August 1998, I had this terrible sinking feeling. What was I doing? I was in the throes of two major transitions, retiring from my academic position and relocating to Boston.

I am a born and bred New Yorker and lived there most of my life, except during the early stages of my marriage and when I worked abroad. But the retirement incentive was too good to reject. And since my three children, their families, and six grandchildren live in Boston, a rare coincidence when so many families are dispersed all over the country, combining retirement with a major move seemed logical, rational, and timely.

But that didn’t make it easier. It was difficult for me to think of a life without work, not being a professional and entering the world of the older adult. I was retiring and facing all the challenges that phase of life suggested. Retirement combined with relocation seemed even riskier.

I was also doing this alone. Divorced with three children at an early age, I was accustomed to taking care of everything that needed to be done. But even to me, moving to a new city was a different story. And how would my children feel about me living so close to them? I thought they would be delighted if I were careful about not imposing, but who could be sure of anything?

My goal was to create a life of my own, a life of satisfaction, intellectually and socially, a life of independence. I knew about programs for retired people because I advised students studying issues in gerontology. And several years before I came, I met a member of HILR at an intergenerational week with our grandchildren sponsored by Elderhostel. I had also been in the Harvard community before. In the seventies, I was a visiting faculty member for several months at the Harvard Graduate School of Education. In 1990, I had a month-long fellowship through the Association for Religion and Intellectual Life at the Harvard Episcopal Center.

HILR seemed perfect for me. I could be with peers who shared interests as well as life experiences. In addition to having the major responsibilities for my family, financially and otherwise, I pursued a doctorate and, at the same time, held full-time work responsibilities. The opportunity to leisurely study and pursue new interests was tantalizing. I was also intrigued by a new move at this stage of my life and, at the same time, a bit tentative. Major transitions are both alluring and forbidding. And since I knew only a few people in Boston, the possibility of making friends through HILR was also reassuring.

At the risk of sounding boastful, I believed I would be an asset to the program. My intellectual interests were in areas that might be suitable for an older population. In fact, I led my first study group at Brandeis— “Life and Death, Affirmation and Meaning.” My academic career was at Empire State College, the nontraditional unit of SUNY with an adult student constituency. I had been involved in curriculum design, faculty development, and international program administration. All my professional life I have been connected, in one way or another, to alternative education, and there are few learning programs for adults that do not capture my heart and imagination. As I now reflect on the experience, HILR has certainly captured my heart and imagination and expanded my intellectual horizons.

First Impressions

I combined my search for an apartment with an interview for admission to HILR. The two interviewers were friendly, and though I did not have any idea of what they were looking for, I was accepted and I began in September 1998 with two study groups. They were both small in size, informal and interesting. However, I felt that one was unbalanced in terms of gender participation; the men seemed to do all the talking. I did not hesitate to contribute and began to perceive that some viewed me as an aggressive New York woman.

By the end of the semester, it was clear to me that I was in a new culture, not the passionate, intense, direct culture of New York, but a setting with a more laid back, reserved style. My particular style had always been an asset for me, but here in Boston, I became conscious of holding back, feeling somewhat self-conscious about who I was and my style of participation.

On the whole, the experience was just what I was looking for. At first, slightly timid in the Common Room, I soon found people to talk to. I attended bag lunches and anything else that was offered. I took advantage of all opportunities and began to see some people socially.

Additional Study Groups

I have taken at least two study groups each semester since that time— approximately thirty-six courses, probably more. Some of them I cannot even remember, and several stand out. Some study groups reflected a longtime interest of mine; others were completely areas new to explore.

The styles of the study group leaders are so varied that it is difficult to characterize them. Some require reports, some suggest them as voluntary, and still others do not have them at all. I enjoy preparing reports; it is a creative, absorbing experience. The teaching styles of the study group leaders are also varied; some people are highly skilled at leading discussions. Some lecture. Some are highly structured; others are more loosely organized and more flexible in relation to members’ interests. Mainly, I was and still am impressed by the commitment and seriousness of the study group leaders in preparing for and leading these groups, whatever their skills.

Study Group Leadership

I have co-led three study groups at HILR and they were all successful. Each co-leader was different in style, and I found it different from teaching alone. Flexibility and negotiation are critical to establishing a vibrant and effective team approach. Working with someone else is also an intellectual experience in itself. Anne Pirrera and I led a multidisciplinary approach to postmodernism calling on the participants of the first course to lead various sessions. We began meeting during the August preceding the actual study group and met monthly. It was an exciting intellectual and social experience to perceive how a theme evolved, to engage in continuous debate and dialogue, and to enjoy how everyone worked together.

Peg Senturia and I met by chance at HILR and designed together a study group on moral frameworks and moral choices. We worked on the design and substance for almost a year. Hy Kempler, the late Bob Stein, and I organized a study group, “The Aging Challenge.” Unfortunately, Bob could not participate; he became very ill and died the following September. For Hy and me it was our entry into seriously thinking about aging studies for the older adult.

Preparation for a study group requires a real commitment in terms of time and energy. I find it satisfying intellectually; I probably learn more from teaching than any other role. However, two study groups I proposed, “The Changing American Family” and “Aging and Culture,” did not have enough enrollments. The failure of each was a surprise and somewhat of a letdown because I had done a great deal of preparation and gone to considerable expense purchasing materials. I also thought the topics were interesting and timely.

I repeated the proposal for the aging study group the following semester as a shorter course, changed its name to the “New Age of Aging,” and got the necessary enrollment. I was touched when one student wrote to me, when the study group ended, that she felt “empowered” as a result of this experience.

In fall 2007, I led a study group on New York, focusing on a range of writers. In conjunction with the study group, I also organized a weekend trip. And the familiar anxiety cropped up: Would I get enough people to enroll? And since literary studies are a completely new area for me, could I do it? Both the study group and the weekend trip went very well and I was pleased.

The Organization

The second or third year of my participation Lydia Smith asked me to join the Teaching and Learning Committee. It was an excellent experience. I wanted very much to be on the curriculum committee and made my request to several people over the years. I thought I was a natural: I had a complex background in curriculum design. For one reason or another I had a hard time getting on the committee. One chair told me: “We don’t like academics, they are used to lecturing.” I was shocked. I had the sense that I was threatening in some way.

Finally, five years ago, I was asked to serve on the committee. This committee is really the heart of HILR. Many new developments have occurred during my membership, and I was solely or partially responsible for the curriculum design groups, the travel group, and aging studies.

The curriculum committee initiated a series of dialogue meetings for the various disciplines including aging studies. Maurice Stein and I began as co-coordinators of this group, and after a short time, I took on the role alone. I was reading extensively, leading, and supervising people who were leading subgroups, etc. Vitality and creativity are validated with such experiences. I wrote an article, “Studies in Aging for the Older Adult,” which was published in the fall 2007 issue of The LLI Review, a journal published by the University of Southern Maine.

I have also served on two special task forces, both chaired by Peg Senturia: the Member Relations Task Force and the Strategic Planning Task Force. These were both peak experiences, the other members were excellent, industrious, creative, and visionary. We did effect some new directions in relation to the creation of finance and membership committees, and new developments in curriculum. These task forces, however, provoked controversy that was emotionally trying and often difficult to comprehend. Many people perceive change as threatening even though institutions cannot stand still. I am still startled by the level of political fervor and concern for power that exist in the Institute, and now try to contribute in ways that will not involve me at that level of organizational development.

In the self-study group that produced these narratives, we studied Rick Lamb and Michael Brady’s research from the University of Southern Maine: Participation in Lifelong Learning Institutes; What Turns Members On? The Strategic Planning Taskforce’s recommendation to establish a Center for the Study of the Older Adult was rejected and I have not thought about it for a long time. But reading about this other ILR clarified how much I would prefer HILR to be on the cutting edge of research, writing, development, networking, etc. That concept, even on paper, was stimulating, visionary, and suggested the possibilities for new opportunities. How can I engage in that level of creativity? Is it too much to ask at this stage of life?

I also ran for the Council twice and was not elected. What does one say about that? Was I still the aggressive New York woman? Did not enough people know me? I have no idea. Fortunately, I am resilient, and am able to have a broad perspective about life.

The Informal Life of HILR

Much happens informally at HILR and I have been fortunate to be part of some activities that are not part of the formal structure but evolved through my membership. I have developed strong bonds with many people at HILR, and several are mentioned in this essay. I was introduced to the personal essay by the late Bob Stein in his first study group, “The Personal Essay.” I had never read much in that genre and took all three of his study groups.

Bob’s study group was the impetus for three of us to begin a writing group, which Bob joined. We met approximately every six weeks for about four years focusing on the personal essay and memoir. It ended when Bob became ill in spring 2005; he died in September. The three of us mourned his loss very much and together wrote his obituary for The HILR Connection. Writing personal essays is an intimate experience, and we came to know each other very well. Bob was open and direct, and forged a bond with each of us individually and collectively.

After his death, our writing group had difficulty going on but one member and I formed another group in spring 2006 and added several people who were interested in writing. It was not the same, but nothing really stays the same, and this group was effective and helpful in different ways. The group disbanded last summer.

I also belong to a women’s book club that meets in the summer; we have just completed our fourth summer. Another group met in each other’s homes to read their own poetry and the work of their favorite poets. This group evolved into a book club and met for several years. I love these groups. They are informal and intimate. I feel very at home in each of them and have bonded with the members.

Summary Reflections

I began this discussion with the two issues I was facing in 1998: retirement from an academic career and relocation from New York to Boston. HILR has been a very effective support system and resource through both transitions. Although not every study group I participated in was at the highest level, the totality has been an intellectual community that has expanded and enriched me. I have also grown to be more patient, if a particular study group does not meet my expectations, I have learned patience and “to go with it.”

At HILR I am always learning something new and stimulating. The climate of a study group nurtures that stimulation—no tests, no achievement awards, just learning for its own sake with people who are intelligent and open. Often, regardless of the subject matter or text, the class discussions are so interesting that they add to the sense of satisfaction and intellectual discourse. I have also been privileged to serve on a variety of standing committees and special task forces. These experiences have supported my interests in and commitment to institution building. Finally, my children are pleased that I have found a life and, sometimes to their delight and surprise, I am not always available because I am too busy with my own interests.

I have made a great many friends here whom I see on one social level or another. Perhaps there is no substitute for lifelong friends, people who knew you when your children were born and at earlier stages of life. However, I feel that I have real intimacy with some people here, people with whom I am comfortable personally as well as intellectually, and whom I could count on if I were in difficulty. I have blossomed meeting people from diverse professional, religious, ethnic and intellectual backgrounds. When I go to a cultural event in Boston, I often meet people I know from HILR, which gives me a feeling that I have roots in Boston, even though I relocated here at a later stage of life.

I don’t know how I would feel as an older adult if I were not a member of HILR. How would I fare in the larger community? But whether it is a result of this experience or my own personal character, my self-esteem is intact. I think I am pretty smart and creative. HILR is a place for me to continue applying those attributes. I feel totally in charge with my mental abilities; I do not feel a loss of memory, vocabulary, ability to write, etc.

There is a magnetic force at HILR that is difficult to define. What draws me in? What keeps me here? How long can I keep doing the “HILR thing?” For me, this holistic culture provides feelings of affirmation and meaning, and is a sharp contrast to the sense of alienation and isolation I often feel as a mature, adult woman in contemporary society. I am struggling to conceptualize this force.

How to develop a new passion at this stage of life sometimes eludes me. Basically my passions have always been channeled toward my career and my family. Increasingly, my interest in the field of aging studies almost feels 60 New Pathways for Aging The Culture of Aging 61 like a passion. I work hard at maintaining a healthy, vigorous self-image and a sense of empowerment, and I try to transmit some of those ideas to my peers through the aging-studies activities.

Writing has some elements of passion and creativity, and often I am at the computer at five in the morning. I started writing about 25 years ago when I sold my house and went from room to room remembering what happened there, who we were, and how we developed. For me, writing restores and sustains memory in a way that supports reflection, clarification, and the search for meaning. The gift of returning to the past leads to greater understanding of the present and the one life I have—its issues, its unique qualities, and my place in a larger scenario. The act of writing has helped me clarify this stage of life and the transitions of retirement and relocation.

On another level completely, one of the issues at HILR is the continuing awareness of illness and death. I am constantly reminded of my own mortality—sickness and death are around the corner. It is sobering. Illness and death are part of the everyday climate of this institution. I think that this level of experience is mysterious and difficult, and we have not developed any group conversations about how to deal with it. These illnesses and deaths also reinforce the notion that life matters, that each day is important, and that one must make the most of the moment, physically, intellectually, and emotionally.

I feel fortunate. To have experiences that are engaging, to feel creative and productive, to have good friends, to have health and family ties—these are blessings. HILR has been instrumental in accomplishing those ends. On the whole, I am alive and well, still looking for new adventures and challenges.

Finally, I feel I shall always be somewhat of a stranger in this city. None of my history is here. My history is someplace back in New York, in the houses, and apartments of my youth, my marriage, my single-parent period, my life with past lovers, and my career. I have trouble saying this aloud: I am still a Yankee fan. But Boston is where I live now, and it is almost home. Not quite, but almost. And HILR has certainly helped.

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