I turned 80 in November.* This was a huge milestone for me, but unlike when I turned 50, 60 or even 70, reaching this age didn’t make me feel exceptionally old. Instead, I felt like celebrating. I still do.
Nothing dramatic happened on that day. No lightning bolts flashed, no teeth fell out. I didn’t suddenly go gray or get more wrinkly. There was no dramatic decrease in physical ability or mental acuity. I didn’t suddenly get shorter and more stooped. All that stuff has been taking place over the decades. It would have been nice if I’d magically shed a few pounds, but no, I’m still overweight as well as short and wrinkly.
I’m feeling very lucky. Sure, I have a longish list of chronic issues for which I take an equally long list of medications. I’ve had some falls, broken a few bones, dealt with COVID, all that sort of thing. And I’m here, and happy to be here.
Too many friends and relatives, including wonderful people I’ve treasured over the 55 years I’ve lived in Marblehead, are not. It’s always a shock, even when it isn’t a surprise, to find out that another person you care about is gone. The hurt is especially deep when the person first disappears cognitively, when you meet them and see little behind those once bright eyes. When a friend gets a diagnosis that puts an end date on their life, it hurts a lot, though all you really can do is offer support and love, and stop whining about those chronic but not life-threatening annoyances.
My husband and I have lost all of the generation before us, but none of our physical challenges is more than concerning. We know we must stay healthy. But, fatalistically or not, we’ve developed two sayings to express how we feel about the future. “It’s not if, it’s when,” and “The one thing we know for sure is that we don’t know.”
When you’re our age, you have no choice but to acknowledge the inevitable, the certainty that your past is far longer than your future will be. Obviously, we don’t slog around in gloom, we take pretty good care of ourselves, and try to live each day to the fullest, which is a lot easier to say than to do. Frankly, some days living life to the fullest means taking the day off to rest, read, not watch the news, and maybe stare into the fire awhile.
One thing we try hard do is to treasure the life, the love, and the loved ones we have, and spend as much time with people we care about as it’s possible to do. I’ve said in this space before that we both love travel. We follow the advice of my favorite aunt and uncle — to travel as much as we can as long as we can — and will continue exploring.
As you age, and especially when you retire, you have choices and decisions that weren’t available to you when you were working. You get to decide who you want to spend time with, what you’re willing and eager to do, and things you’re no longer willing to put up with. We’ve all faced bullying and bad behavior in one form or another — in school, with our kids, with coworkers, managers and subordinates. Most people my age (especially fellow Sicilians) become less willing to tolerate bad behavior and excuse bullying. Given experiences I had in my career, no longer being forced to interact with bad actors is a huge relief.
You also have choices about how you’ll spend your time. Even while working full time, my husband and I always found ways to volunteer, because we’re committed to “giving back” to this community. Anthony, though, worked long hours in Boston, keeping him from expanding his interests and taking on new responsibilities. Once retired, after sorting out what he wanted to do, he jumped into volunteerism in ways he hadn’t been able to before.
I retired a couple of times, with each time a little different. Once, I started a freelance PR business. I gave that up when the job editing the late, lamented iteration of the Marblehead Reporter was offered. Next, I taught journalism, an experiment I really enjoyed. Then, I went back to school to earn the Master’s Degree I’d always wanted, and loved every minute of that. I somehow managed to co-author a book for teens with a now-departed friend, finished and then edited a significant history by a friend who died unexpectedly, and did a fair amount of other volunteer work, including joining my garden club, being a guide and helping organizations with their PR.
These days, my primary volunteer focus is the Marblehead Museum and the Jeremiah Lee Mansion. After the sprawling responsibilities of guiding at PEM, having a narrow but rich focus is a treat. Doing original research using the wealth of documents in the Museum’s care is a daunting but fulfilling task.
Retired professionals need to be careful how much we say yes. Most of us need to cultivate that other word. There are many worthy organizations in Marblehead, and most of them need help with their public relations. Why was I surprised that every time I joined a volunteer group, I was asked to do PR?
Look. I love to write. I love it enough to have made it my profession. Apparently I’m pretty good at it, so my career was rewarding. Here’s the thing, though. It was my work. Interviewing, writing, editing, teaching, setting up a PR plan? My job, but just one part of my skill set. When I retired, I wanted to do other things. So, I had to learn a lot about limit setting.
Limit setting is critical to attaining and keeping a healthy (and happy) old age. It’s also one of the hardest things to accomplish. Saying no is never easy, and sometimes you have to say no multiple times before it’s heard. No one wants to offend a friend who genuinely wants your help, but if that help takes you over your limit, you’re doing your friend and yourself an injustice.
As noted, there are so many worthy organizations that need our skills. We can’t help them all. To me, limit setting looks like this. I will say yes if: I believe in the mission or cause; I like the people I’ll be working with; I’ll be doing some good; I have enough time in my schedule to accomplish what’s asked. I’ll say no if: I’m pretty sure I won’t have any fun; the task will take more time than I can mentally and physically handle; I won’t be contributing to a cause or mission I believe in; I won’t be learning something new and exciting; I’m pretty sure I won’t be appreciated for the skills I bring to the task.
I’ve enjoyed having this space to express, on a volunteer basis, what I believe and feel about things in my purview. Some of you may have noticed that it’s been a minute since the last time my name and photo appeared here. In that time away, it became clear that I’d rather be doing something else. So I will.
*I know I lost most of my audience with that opening line. Oh well.
Marblehead resident Jo Ann Augeri Silva is a retired journalist, author, public relations professional and educator, and was an editor of the Marblehead Reporter.
Jo Ann Augeri Silva
Marblehead resident Jo Ann Augeri Silva, a retired journalist, author, public relations professional and educator, was an editor of the Marblehead Reporter.
