Back to Work - by Libby James

Retirement: It just ain’t what it used to be. A little more than two years ago, six years after I turned 70 and quit a job in Cheyenne, my life took a right turn. When the owner/publisher of a vibrant rural monthly newspaper in Northern Colorado said, “I want to hire you, but I can’t pay you much,” I said, “OK, when do I start?”

Since then I’ve worked as a part-time staff reporter. The job couldn’t be more different from the one I left. For 15 years, I helped low-income single teen parents study for GEDs and prepare themselves for the world of work, a job I loved. I miss that parade of wild and gutsy young women doing their damnedest to love and nurture their babies and fight their way toward being able to support them.

 I caught the freedom fever in 2004 when I spent a year off in Africa. I discovered how exhilarating it was to wander the streets of a Third World city, delve into the recent, raw history of a country newly emerged into independence, and produce weekly stories and photos to share with people back home. I substitute taught, tutored a few African graduate students in English, and became friends with a cadre of fascinating European ex-pats. I got a taste of what was out there if you had the luxury of free time to indulge. When I came home, I returned to my job for a year and then I quit.

I loved having time to write about my time in Africa and my experiences with teen mothers, and to revise a long stashed-away middle-grade novel.

I planted a garden, entertained more, ran, biked, did some artsy stuff and traveled to spend time with family and friends. I was never bored.

So why did I take a job? Partly on impulse. It sounded interesting. And because I know these things about myself: I like to be busy. I like to write. I like interaction with people. I like to learn new things. I want to know what makes people tick. And I was weary of longterm writing projects with dismal prospects for publication, ready to leave them alone for a while.

My first assignment was to interview and photograph the first-ever paid fire chief in Wellington. Since then, I’ve covered the discovery of a body in Lyons Park, documented a raging flood and its aftermath, and described a couple of fellows in Laporte who make award-winning wine and have no intention of ever selling any of it.

Over the last two-plus years, I’ve met dozens of wonderful people drawn to a rural lifestyle yet committed to forming strong and supportive friendships with their far-flung neighbors. Many have become my friends as well.

My “retirement” job has added fulfillment to my life. It’s challenging to make the cold call, ask the tough question, write the meaningful story. For me, and I suspect for many seniors, retirement  has taken on a new face.

Teens Teach This Former Teacher a Life Lesson -by Marty Marsh

One day each week I volunteer with middle-school students.  Retired after 35 years teaching, spending my days with teenagers, I still enjoy quality time with them.  I laugh more, and I come home tired but happy  Whether it is volunteer work in a school or quality time with grandchildren or neighborhood children, our lives are enriched by time spent with young people who teach us as we mentor them.

Hopefully, my former students learned lots from our time together, but I learned just as much from them.  One amazing characteristic of young people is their enthusiasm and willingness to participate.  When teaching, I tried an activity that worked with middle-school students and failed with adults - "personal interviews" to get to know students.  I would start by asking for a volunteer.  No adult would raise a hand without more information.  Only a few high school students volunteered.  However, practically every student in a middle-school class volunteers.  I love that!  Somewhere along the growing-up process following middle-school we learn to hesitate, to not commit right away, or to worry about what others think of us.

When the bell rings to end a period of volunteering, often with my doing a lesson on poetry, I always have a line of students in front of me.  They haven't had a chance to share during class, and they absolutely want me to know what they are thinking.  They don't leave until their turn comes because they are confident that I want to know about their thoughts and experience.  One-on-one is powerful.  These students constantly make me aware of how important it is that I listen carefully to those around me, of any age, and to honor their ideas.

Young people are passionate about their interests and expect to be successful.  When I sponsor writing contests twice a year at Lesher Middle School, only a few win but all the kids expect to win.  That's why this April, National Poetry Month, each grade will have 25 poets recognized.  From that group, a couple of top winners will be selected, but I want to encourage all of them to continue writing, whether they win a top prize or not.  Eventually they will learn that the creative writing process is worth the work on its own.

When I work in the Media Center (what used to be called the school library) and can't figure out how to solve a computer problem, all I have to do is ask one of these teenagers.  They know exactly what to do, and they love being "the teacher" to a teacher.  Young people have been raised with technology and can help parents, grandparents and neighbors use this great tool.

I can't imagine living in a retirement community that doesn't have young people.  I'm thankful that Fort Collins schools have so many opportunities for volunteers so I can spend time each week with teenagers.  It's a win-win. I continue to learn as much from them as they do from me.

Reconnecting with Nature -by Dale Hein

Building upon your earliest memories of nature can be a satisfying journey "back to the future".

Perhaps you slept in a tent at Scout camp and heard an owl hooting at constant intervals.  Maybe the tide washed away your sand castle , or the sun melted your snow sculpture.  Nature did not care.

Possibly you found a turtle, and brought it home.  You named it Simon and kept it in your bedroom.  When your dad said that it was time for Simon to hibernate you set Simon free in a pond.

More than half a century later, such early experiences in nature remain vivid to many of us.

While I was a professor of wildlife biology at Colorado State University, I often taught summer field courses in ecology and natural history. e.g. for Elderhostel (now Road Scholar), National Parks Conservation Association and National Wildlife Federation.  The participants were mostly retirees or seniors on vacation.  Often they were reconnecting with nature in ways they had first done as children.

So many times I heard, "Why, I remember that flower (or bird, or tree) on my grandparents' farm when I was little."

Or, "I remember we kept cocoons in our classroom until this same kind of butterfly emerged."

Don't you recall the first fish you caught, seashells you saved, or meteor showers you saw?

We usually have more discretionary time later in life, especially after retirement.  We may still be busy - but busy at what we choose.  One choice may be to discover new interests.  Rediscovering former interests can be even more satisfying.  Reconnecting to nature can be as simple as activating dormant childhood memories.

A mature dault has resources and abilities to explore nature that were limited in childhood.  It can be a time to revive and build on those early memories.  Now, a nature walk in woodlands, hills, stream-side, or fields can include nature photography, plant identification, bird watching, nature writing, and helping others learn.

Hopefully, as you grow as a naturalist, you will also become a conservationist, helping to preserve our vital natural world.

When we get to know more of nature, we can graduate to helping others, especially youths, to know nature better.  Too many children suffer from "nature deficiency disorder" in this increasingly technological world.

Year-round, free educational activities are available at 40 natural areas in Fort Collins (fcgov.com/natural areas), giving all of us, of any age, the opportunity to get in closer touch with nature.

Roll with the Changes - by Jean Dietemann

Most of us remember the David Bowie song: “Ch-ch-ch-changes.”

It’s a perfect one-word summary of aging. There aren’t any hard and fast rules, like “at age 60, you will …” and “at age 70, you will …” Instead it’s more of a stutter-step pace. Two steps forward, one step back, three steps forward, two steps back.

Everyone’s pace is different. I’ll tell you about mine.

On the one hand, I can’t do some things the way I once did. Hike in, especially uphill, to a favorite fishing hole. Run or even walk fast. Eat a lot of salt and fat. Drink real coffee. Work in my garden for hours at a time. Watch late-night TV.

On the other, I can still do those things — just differently. Walk, briskly, to drive-up fishing spots. Drink decaf coffee. Eat more veggies, fruit and fish. Work in the garden before 10 a.m. and after 7 p.m. And anyway, phooey. Who can stay up to watch Letterman if you want to be up early to garden?

Prioritize. Some changes I can’t get around, like seeing doctors more often than I used to. Or, nice though they are, than I really want to. Parts of me are wearing out because their warranties aren’t what they used to be. I’m working on learning to lift, carry and pick up things so my knees, shoulders and lower back cooperate.

Worst of all is trying to remember the name of something or someone, and finding a big blank spot inside my head where the answer should be. It’s not that I’ve lost it; I’ve just misplaced it. But if I think about something else instead, the missing word pops up — “George” or “platypus” or whatever.

The good news is that some changes have pointed me in new directions. For example, it was a big surprise that my heart isn’t as reliable as I had thought. Part of the prescribed treatment was to join a cardiac fitness class at The Heart Center of the Rockies. Best thing I’ve done in a long time. I work out twice a week in a supervised program with — the important part — other folks who have similar problems. That means we’re all pretty much in the same boat, so there’s a lot of support and no need to compete. Just chug along as best you can and rejoice over small triumphs.

 I’m also no longer a slave to anyone’s alarm clock — husband’s, kids’ or mine. I can do what I want to do pretty much when I want to do it. Since I love to garden and I love to read, volunteering at the Gardens on Spring Creek and The Friends of the Library solved the problem for me of how to use some of that newly discovered spare time.

And, very important, it’s a good time of life to give in to that secret urge to write the great American novel. Or learn how to fly a kite or weld or make bread or … Bottom line, it’s all about living with Ch-ch-ch-changes.

One Man's Bucket List at Age 70 -by Gary Raham

My thoughtful coworkers threw a party for me when I turned 50.

They even decorated a black easy chair with colorful balloons. I laughed with the rest of them, but I thought, ”Wait a minute. I'm not ready for an ebony E-Z-Boy yet . What's so special about 50?‘

Nothing, of course. Though I had been at the same job for 25 years and my bucket list was still full.

The black lounger precipitated one of those potentially disastrous life changes. I resolved to quit my day job and become a full-time writer- illustrator, though the transition took more than a year.

Sometimes we choose mega changes in our lives. Sometimes they ambush us: debilitating or fatal diseases, death of a loved one, war, a hurricane, or even an errant asteroid. Fortunately for me, deliberate choices have predominated.

I chose to move to Colorado with my biology degrees and  each. I chose to get married and abandon teaching to pursue a somewhat nebulous career path in the arts. Each choice closed some doors but opened new windows of opportunity.

As a biologist -turned-amateur paleontologist, I know large-scale disasters have forged the living world around us.

Pond scum invented photosynthesis and polluted the planet with oxygen. Complex plants and animals thrived. Later, a volcanic hot spot in what is now Siberia poisoned the atmosphere for a million years, killing off 95 percent of everything.

Little dinosaurs with hollow bones survived the ordeal and dazzled ecologies for the next 160 million years. Then, an asteroid fell on their heads and mammals scurried out of their tunnels and transformed Mother Earth yet again.

Change at all scales never happens simply or without consequences.

While I worked as a graphic artist, my wife raised the kids and worked part-time. When I quit to write books and draw pictures, my wife delivered mail for 16 years. I took a part-time job with a newspaper and somehow morphed into a journalist . During my post-50 journeys, I've written more than a dozen books and won awards for both writing and illustrating.

Our independent kids are grown, and my wife and I still like spending time together. She has pursued her passions, too. I've seen more of the world (and stayed in reasonably good shape) pulled along in her athletic wake.

We both compensate for aging body parts.

She won't play tennis again until she gets a knee replaced. I won't even consider riding a bull again but then I wouldn't have tried the flrst time except for those high, 20-something testosterone levels.

Advancing age may bank the flres a little and dull a few tools, but it also provides reflective serenity and enhanced experience that tends to encourage more choices of the ” well reasoned‘ variety.

So now I'm nearly ready to ask,  "What's so special about 70?"

Nothing, of course. Except the chance to pursue more new beginnings. My bucket list is not close to empty.