I’ve spent a good chunk of this new retirement playing Grandma UberEats and rage-cleaning boxes of stuff I apparently couldn’t live without in 1998.
But this past weekend?
I was done.
Apron off. Boots on.
My daughter, my granddaughters, and I piled into the car for a pilgrimage to see the High Priestess of Rock herself: Stevie Nicks.
And I’ll tell you… it’s a little wild sitting in a car with teenagers singing along to the same Fleetwood Mac songs that got me through my 20s.
Back then, I had a cassette tape and a pencil for rewinding (if you know, you know).
This weekend, they had it streaming in high-def like it dropped yesterday.
But… the soul of the music hasn’t changed one bit.
The Togetherness Trap (The Good Version)
Usually, when I talk about the “togetherness trap” of retirement, I’m referring to my husband following me from room to room to discuss whatever home improvement project we suddenly need to do.
But this was a different kind of togetherness.
When the first notes of “Rhiannon” hit, I watched my granddaughters’ faces light up… and I wasn’t just “Grandma” this weekend—I was the one who knew the songs and the stories behind the drama.
And while my career might have ended “suddenly,” my role as the Cultural Ambassador of Cool is just getting started.
What I Learned Watching Stevie
Watching Stevie Nicks twirl across that stage in velvet and lace like time has absolutely no authority over her… yeah, I had a moment.
Because she’s not slowing down.
She’s not fading out.
She’s just… still being Stevie.
And honestly? That’s the goal.
A few things I’m taking with me:
Velvet is now a neutral.
If it doesn’t swish when I walk, I’m not interested.
Music is the great equalizer.
A 15-year-old, a 17-year-old, and a 40- and 60-something all feeling the exact same thing at the exact same time? That’s magic.
My “reliable” years were not wasted.
I had the snacks. We had the tickets (and great seats, I might add). I had a parking exit strategy that would impress a tour manager.
You can take the woman out of the workforce…
but you cannot take the logistics out of the woman.
Full Circle
Walking back to the car tired, a little deaf, and running on pure “Silver Springs” energy, somewhere between the stadium and the parking lot, it hit me—
This is what this stage is actually about.
Not slowing down.
Not sitting still.
Just finally having the time to share what you love with the people you love… without watching the clock.
But as we were walking through the parking lot, still riding high from the concert, the wind shifted.
And I caught a smell.
“Wow,” I said, wrinkling my nose.
“I’m really surprised a skunk came this close to all this noise and just… went for it.”
We walked in silence for about two seconds.
Then—
Laughter. Immediate. Loud. Slightly disrespectful.
“Debz…” one of them said, looking at me with that perfect mix of pity and amusement.
“You never smoked weed?”
I laughed right along with them.
“No,” I said, “but I’m pretty sure it showed up at a few of the same parties I did back in the day.”
But honestly… it was a perfect night.
Stevie Nicks on stage.
The unmistakable scent of the 70s in the air.
Three generations laughing, sharing, and making a memory.
For a minute, there was no age gap.
No “back in my day.”
No “you wouldn’t understand.”
Just music, memories… and one very misunderstood “skunk.”
And if that’s not rocking retirement, I don’t know what is.
Redisovering Myself: The start of a sudden Retirement 