...both white haired, one in a black car, one in a red,gave me pause again today.
Mrs. Black Car (sorry, I was too busy watching what all was happening with her to notice make and model!) was leaving CVS (a pharmacy, FYI for non-Americans), wielding her cane like a spiffy third leg. Mrs. Red Car (same excuse re: make and model) was arriving, unloading her snappy red walker with the handy wheels, on her way into CVS.
Mrs. BC trembled. Heck, let me be totally frank -- Mrs. BC shook and bobbled from the neck up. I watched her key open her car door, hands steady as a rock, while her head bobbled furiously. I watched her get in, start the car, back it out of its spot, and bobble away, her thin, speckled arms steady on the steering wheel.
Mrs. RC did not bobble. Dressed for the warm weather in a peasant skirt and top, she fetched her walker from the boot of her hatchback, and before pushing her extra legs ahead of her into the store, she drank daintily from a covered bottle of water (I presume -- it'd be a pretty scary thing if she were swigging liquor, don't you think?)
Tears sprang to my eyes. I wiped them away surreptitiously (Mini Me was in the back seat, and I don't cry for anyone to see), but my fingers were chased by more tears. I scrabbled for a pen so I could try to give words to all that I was feeling. Because this non-incident, this little episode out of time, a drop in the bucket of my Sunday, had burst open the floodgates that I had been valiantly holding closed, fingers in the dyke, trying to keep my emotions contained, since Friday morning.
I began to chronicle the moment, and then we left, and I was too busy sniffling quietly, so as not to draw attention to myself, and swallowing the rest of the flood of tears, making sure they did not spill. By the time I got home, I was under control again. I emptied the dishwasher, then repacked it with the dirty dishes in the sink, talked to my friend for almost an hour, and tried to keep HER spirits up (she's the one who was not only rated unsatisfactory, but also discontinued). I had wanted to wait till after her meeting with the union tomorrow to tell her my bad news -- no use in depressing her more, eh? -- but she asked, and I had no choice.
Conversation over, I came upstairs, changed into comfy "yard" clothes (a Jamaican expression for clothes you wear at home), and sat down to transcribe the notes I had begun to make. Why would the sight of two old ladies make me cry, you ask? To answer that, you'll need to come back with me to yesterday. I am on my way to the supermarket to buy breakfast fixings -- eggs, bacon (two kinds) milk, orange juice -- and it occurs to me that in two more years, I will be a "free agent".
Retirement is supposed to free one to move on to the next task in this new phase of life. But it brings new questions, such as, how do I live in the manner to which I have become accustomed if no one will hire me because I'm older? I asked myself that question as I drove out of the supermarket parking lot. Nobody hires 56-year-old ex-assistant principals (that's how old I'll be when I leave the DOE). Heck, no one wants to hire me NOW, for crying out loud -- witness Friday morning's cold rejection! Which makes me ask another question -- am I a has-been? Is menopause NOT, after all, the worst thing that can happen to an older woman?
I've never had to think about being unemployed before. When I was young, fresh out of university, I knew I would get a job. And when I left one, another one always opened for me. I took it all for granted, as my right, almost, for being an upstanding citizen, a dedicated, hard-working person, a valuable contributor to society. I was strong, I was invincible...I was young.
Being rejected for a position I KNOW I could have handled has made me question myself, and wonder if I am really everything I thought I was. I wonder why I was rejected, and all the answers make me feel a combination of anger, frustration, and fear. Overwhelming fear. What if I can't contribute to the family coffers when I leave the DOE? We will lose the house, and have to move...again. What ELSE will we lose because of me? Because I'm older, washed up, useless in a society that only values youth, that sees me and thinks "has been", "over", "past it"?
I cannot get past the vision of me, thirty years from now, head bobbling as I lean on my walker on my way out of the pharmacy. Will THAT be my claim to fame -- that I can drive myself to the pharmacy and back without killing anyone or myself? Will that be all my life will be worth? What can I do to avoid such a pitiful end? I've spent my public life defining myself in terms of my vocation. Without it, what am I? Who am I?
I know this sounds like a self-pitying blog, a whining, boo-hooing blog, but that isn't my intention at all. I'm just scared, for the first time since I was a wet-behind-the-ears BA beginning her first job at Manchester High School in Mandeville, Manchester, Jamaica, West Indies. Any and all suggestions, advice, whatever, will be more than welcome. I'm sinking fast into a pit that not even housework is pulling me from completely...
Maybe this Kenny Chesney song will do the trick, eh?
22 comments:
Kitti.. I want to reply to this blog, but it deserves my full attention, and I am just checking in at lunch. I will leave you this thought though.. I am feeling your pain. PM to follow later. Hugs, girlie. I luv ya.
Thanks, Momo! Love you back! *hugs*
I can understand how you feel...I think you have plenty to share and do! Just one job doesn't make you a has been! Geez lady!! You have so much you can continue to offer after you retire! AND..just think of a time when you can relax and enjoy your family some!
I am always looking for other perspectives, Luxy! Thanks!
I recently heard a 77 year old woman speak about her life at a ladies meeting. She commenced with "I love being old!" she went on to share how wisdom was only gathered by the years, and that she appreciated her perspective on life. She was cheeky as..and with a smile that made her look young. It's all in the way you look at it I feel... That was an old lady with attitude! :)
..actually, I read something yesterday that might fit..... I'll go look for it and come back.
Found it.... I think the lady that posted this has an awesome take on getting older.. :)
One of the things I hate and love about being human is how the older you get, the smarter you get...even if you never act on it. Wisdom is like air...it's all around you. Most of it you will never use, or even be aware of. But the bit that you breathe in, that fills your lungs, that you exhale, is the bit you absolutely can never do without. So too, wisdom. What you learn, and what comes in moments of self-realization, in all the wisdom that surrounds you -- that is what keeps making you, what keeps changing you, what keeps growing you...if you let it.
I don't mind being the age I am. I like it, in fact...what I DON'T like is feeling that because I AM that age, I am cast away as useless. Let's be honest. Our society doesn't NOT value the wisdom and experience that comes with age, and they value it even less when it's packaged as a woman.
Never count on continuing as an employee. Even if you are one now. Remember that 80% of lucrative home based businesses are run by women. And while most fiction writers fail, somehow I doubt you would be one of them. Did you know that school districts and individual teachers are paying for courses, course segments, even individual lesson plans now? Do a complete computer search. You will find them. Now, If it were me, I'd design a complete course: The 700-million year history of the earth in order to show the major forces the shaped life and drove evolution on this planet. I'd continue to refine the course down to the timing and evolution of the single cell. Having done this and completed the necessary visuals, I'd chop the course into ever smaller segments until I'd reached the individual sequential lesson plan. Teachers could afford lesson plans complete with critical thinking and traditional testing instruments. School systems could afford whole courses. So could School districts. Of course, plans and testing changes would be made every year to avoid cheating. That you could do having been a teacher and an administrator.
You could also breed tropical reptiles, especially snakes. Great market. A close friend of mine specializes in pythons because they produce lots of progeny a year a few of them colorful genetic variants. Home grown red rad snakes go for $125@. There are pythons that go for $100,000 @. My friend nets several million a year. His food bill amounts to $35,000.
What a kind compliment! Thank you, Kurt!
I will look into the ways I can use my vocation after I retire from it formally. Thanks for the encouragement and suggestions.
Do it now. Do not delay. The longer the lead time you give yourself, the better. On average, a home business takes 3 to 5 years to become profitable.And, investment capital is necessary. I started two businesses. One in tropical reptiles and the other in fossils. I sold my last prehistoric whale for $52,000. I deemed the selling of fossils a conflict of interests if a school or students were involved. Consequently, the College of Charleston and the Charleston Museum together with several other assorted professional institutions profited to the tune of about $1,800,000 worth of fossils. Altruism always claims a price. Reptiles are a commodity business. What will the greatest number of enthusiasts want in their collections next year. I invested $1,500 initially in a pair of Burmese pythons ( practically worthless today ) and recouped my investment ( $2,800 ) in two months. It took me three years to make the business profitable using net sales to offset expenses. Don't wait till you don't have a job and then jump off the train.
One door shuts and another opens... Many people who have left work have found new opportunities and developed a portfolio of interests... Think positively - You have not enjoyed the environment of your work for some time now.. Maybe it's time to take some decisions and get a new life! It's surprising hw we can survive on so much less...
Oh wow...so much good advice and no sympathy! .....*sympathize* :) ..hey, since when does our society properly value the contribution of women of any age?..
I'm a stranger here, but your blog pulled me in...you're a great writer, first of all... and secondly, I SO understand that feeling of, 'am I washed up ALREADY?' -- you don't feel old. Your mind is still sharp and your abilities are all they ever were if not more... I am 57, and hereditary bad joints have left me mostly wheelchair bound. I don't talk about it much on here (if you look at my page, you'll see mostly cats and some griping about the younger generation, lol)... but I too feel like I still have something left to contribute, and I too feel as if I'm being overlooked because of my age and my handicap. I have no intention of losing this battle, however. Age gives us something the young don't have: experience. :)
Sympathy is of little value. A good plan and a positive attitude will get you further. Come on. If I can make money selling snakes and fossils, think what you can do along more conventional lines.
Everybody is out there "Got to find a job ! Got to find a job! We need more jobs!" No you don't. Be your own boss. Seize control.
Have you considered Tuttering?
.....That being?
English tutors are a dime a dozen , I'm afraid, Vinny. But I will find out what the market's like for tutors for college students. Vassar, Marist, and Bard colleges are all within 20 minutes to half an hour of my house, as well as the CIA/. Maybe those students have a need...
The CIA always needs good analysts.
In the words of Franklin Delano Roosevelt:...."So let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself - nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance."
http://youtu.be/GZ5DORLwJY0
Well said
Thanks for the words and the song, Tom! *hugs*
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