Redisovering Myself: The start of a sudden Retirement

Tag: family

  • A Lifetime of Memories: From the 40s to Today

    The Emotional roller coaster of Sorting Through Decades of Family Memorabilia

    If you ever want to truly test your emotional resilience, try going through decades of family memorabilia. It’s like opening a time capsule—but with more random knick-knacks, a baffling number of strange holiday ornaments, and way too many mixed emotions. After sorting through my parents’ items and my husband’s family treasures, I’ve learned that organizing family history isn’t just about tidying up—it’s like taking a sentimental stroll through the past. Some moments are laugh-out-loud funny, some are bittersweet, and some… well, some make you wonder, “What in the world were we thinking?” Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to keep that one sock for 40 years? But hey, at least it’s a conversation starter.
    Here’s a glimpse of how we got to this point and what we’ve discovered along the way.

    The Beginning: Our Parents in the 40s and 50s

    Let’s rewind to the 1940s. My parents and my husband’s parents grew up during a time of war, but also in a post-war world filled with hope and change. By the 50s, they were wide-eyed, ambitious young adults stepping into a world full of promise.

    My parents eloped in 1957, which always cracks me up. I picture them as the original rebels, rushing off to start their life together—probably irritating their families in the process. They loved having family gatherings, and that love of family ran through much of their lives. Even when things weren’t perfect, they tackled life with enthusiasm and purpose.

    My husband’s parents also carved out their own adventure, navigating a rapidly changing world. Looking through their old family albums, everyone’s faces seem frozen in moments of uncertainty and excitement. It’s a glimpse into a world so different from today, but filled with the same emotions—love, fear, and a universal desire to create something bigger than themselves.

    The 60s: A Time of Change

    Moving into the 1960s, I was just a kid, but the world around us was shifting rapidly. The moon landing, civil rights movements, and the rise of countercultures created a climate of optimism and uncertainty. We were experiencing a growing awareness of how big and complicated the world was.

    For us as kids, there was excitement over new technology—like audio cassettes, push-button telephones, and The Beatles—but also an underlying sense that things were changing in ways we didn’t fully understand.

    The 70s: Disco, Polyester, and Growing Up

    Now, let’s talk about the 1970s. Growing up in the 70s was like living through cultural upheavals, social movements, and way too much polyester. My husband and I both share that experience. The world seemed on the brink of something huge, and we were just trying to keep up.

    We spent our youth listening to records, watching black-and-white TV that suddenly came alive with color, and trying to figure out where we fit in this changing world. It was a time of promise, but also plenty of “What on earth is going on?” moments. And, of course, the disco craze was in full swing—Saturday Night Fever, anyone? You could hardly escape the boogie beats and the polyester pants that no one wore after 1981.

    The 80s: Big Hair, Neon, and Parenting

    By the 80s, we were no longer teenagers. Now, we were the parents. Suddenly, the world was less about us and more about raising kids. The 80s brought big hair, neon clothes, and—let’s be honest—some truly questionable fashion choices. Mullets, anyone?

    And don’t even get me started on the “family photo” moments. Those awkward photos where your kids were either making peace signs or pretending to be “too cool for school.” At the time, we thought we were totally on point. Now, they’re just a hilarious reminder of how much we thought we had it together.

    The 90s: Raising Teenagers, and the World Turns

    The 90s brought its own challenges. Our kids were teenagers, and suddenly, it felt like the world was flipping upside down. The rise of grunge and boy bands, combined with the creeping presence of the internet, made everything feel more chaotic. But amid the teenage rebellion and eye rolls, there were also plenty of beautiful family moments—vacations, reunions, and those holiday traditions that kept us together.
    That perfect holiday photo? It took hours of bribery and begging, but it was worth it when we finally got the whole family in one shot.

    The 2000s: College Years and More Change

    By the late 90s and early 2000s, our kids were off to college. The house felt emptier than ever, and no amount of family memorabilia could fill that space. But as they moved on, so did we. The 2000s brought technology in ways we hadn’t imagined—like cell phones, which were both a blessing and a curse. Gone were the days of waiting for a weekly phone call; now, it was an endless stream of “Are you okay?” “How’s your day?” and “Did you eat lunch yet?”

    The 2010s and 2020s: Saying Goodbye, Reflecting on the Past, and Dealing with COVID

    The 2010s brought milestones but also loss. My parents passed away in the early 2020s, and my husband lost his parents in the late 90s. Then came the global pandemic of 2020, which shook everything up. Family gatherings, work, and even school had to be rethought. Despite isolation, we found ways to connect—through Zoom calls, virtual gatherings, and outdoor visits.
    COVID taught us a lot about resilience and the importance of family, but it also gave us the opportunity to make the best of a situation that included 14 consecutive hours of Netflix.

    What Do You Do With All of This?

    Now, we’re left with a treasure trove of photos, cards, keepsakes, and reminders of lives lived. At times, it feels overwhelming, and there’s a fleeting thought of just tossing it all. But then, you open a box, find an old love letter, or a picture of your parents on a special day, and that joy and hope hit you. These are the moments that made up a life.

    So, we preserve it. We honor it. We laugh at the oddities—ugly sweaters, 80s mullets, and those photos where we’re all smiling like we actually had our lives together (we didn’t). But most of all, we pass it down, sharing our family’s stories with the next generation, so they’ll have a history to look back on someday, too.

    What About You?

    Do you have a stack of family treasures gathering dust, or have you found a creative way to preserve your family’s memories? I’d love to hear your stories and tips in the comments—let’s keep the conversation going!

  • Retirement, A Birthday Trip, and Five Miles of Frozen Togetherness

    Ah, retirement. That magical moment when you get to sleep in every day, sip coffee in your PJs, and spend all of your time with the love of your life. I should be thrilled, right? Well, I was. At least, that’s what I told myself as my husband, Larry, once again brought up the yearly trek to an automotive swap meet.

    Now, I love Larry with all my heart. I truly do. But we’ve spent 40+ years building a life together, and suddenly, we are sharing 24/7. There’s a limit to how much “together” any human being should be exposed to, and let’s just say, I am not quite ready to become a full-time Larry observer.

    But as with everything in life, there’s always the curveball. And this time, that curveball was a cold, miserable trip to the annual auto swap meet—which always happens around his birthday. Oh, the joy.

    Every year, Larry has this ritual: his birthday gift to himself is a day spent scouring dusty tables piled high with vintage car parts, rare tires, and, I’m assuming, other things that go “vroom” but not in any modern way. And this year, we’d be walking, I don’t know, five miles of it. Five. Miles. In the freezing cold. That’s not a gift; that’s a torture device.

    “Come on, Debbie! It’ll be fun!” Larry said, flashing me one of those endearing smiles, the kind he thinks can convince me to do anything. I wasn’t sold. I looked out the window at the wind blowing, checked the temp on my phone  and pulled on my scarf, cursing the calendar for this ridiculous tradition. What kind of person walks five miles in a field of cold metal to look at car parts?

    We arrived, and of course, it was windy. Of course, it was freezing. And of course, I didn’t have enough layers on.  But off we went, Larry’s excitement rising like a child on Christmas morning. I trudged along beside him, muttering under my breath. The rocks hurt my feet, my nose was red, and my hair was doing that thing where it had an unspoken agreement with the wind to never look cute again. But there was Larry, hopping from booth to booth, gleefully inspecting every rusty old road sign  and faded license plate as if they were treasures.

    I’d like to say that I had an epiphany about how much I loved him at that moment. But no. Instead, I decided to complain. A lot.

    “Larry, are you seriously seriously looking at a box of old license plates right now?”

    “Yup, these are vintage!” he said with the same enthusiasm someone might have while finding their long-lost puppy. I rolled my eyes.

    By the third long row of booths, I was over the license plates, the road signs, and whatever else people sell in the name of vintage cars. But here’s where the magic happened. It wasn’t the cold or the fact that I was trying to ignore my developing frostbite; it was the fact that we were doing this together. Yes, I was freezing. Yes, I may have developed an irrational hatred for old car parts. But there was Larry, excited like a kid in a candy store. And in that moment, I realized I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

    We finished our five-mile trek, the last booth finally in sight, and Larry looked at me with that tired-but-happy smile. “See? You survived! And it wasn’t that bad, right?”

    I nodded, trying not to let the wind whip my face off entirely. “It wasn’t that bad… I guess.”

    And that’s the thing about retirement, I guess. You don’t always want to do the same things your spouse is passionate about. You don’t always want to walk five miles in the freezing cold just to look at some old car parts that have  seen better days. But, despite all that, it’s those shared moments that create a kind of magic. Because, in the end, what’s a little cold when you’ve got each other?Retirement means we’ll have more of these moments—maybe not the cold moments, but definitely the moments when we find joy in being together. So I’ll embrace it. I might even start looking at old road signs  with a little more enthusiasm… (Okay, no, I won’t, but I’ll try.)