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Retirement. Really !?!?

When I retired in 2022 after 22 years as an academic administrator and instructor at a small private university in the Greater Philly area, my staff gave me a mug with a saying on it. “Retired – the best is yet to come.” I can’t say what came is “the best,” but I am enjoying the perks – even with the ups and downs.

I had often fantasized about what I would do when I retired. I would finally finish one of the many “books” I thought I would write; so much unfinished writing. (But, that’s likely every writer, even those who have actually accomplished completed works.) I would travel for extended periods of time because no longer confined to “vacation” days. I even fantasized about joining a Buddhist monastery, especially on those days when I was particularly stressed and feeling harried at work. I would volunteer for an animal rescue or some other community service organization.  

The fantasies haven’t come about, but I CAN say that what I appreciate most about retirement is having the time to pursue whatever I feel like, when I feel like. I have the freedom to pursue my curiosity, my desire to know, and to learn.

Most of the time, when I don’t want to do something, I can say “No,” just because I don’t feel like it. There are commitments that I have made – to friends, for social events, to a part-time job, to volunteer activities, mostly to caring for my dog. (Anyone who knows me knows that I can’t say “No,” to Pepper. She’s been my closest companion for over 10 years; pet owners know what I mean!)

I am obviously NOT in a monastery, but I am active with the Zen Center of Philadelphia. I have done some volunteer work with Pepper as a therapy dog. I’m not writing a book, but at least making time for the blog, when I can, and journaling. I’m in two book groups – reading as much or more than ever. I have traveled, but not as much as I wish I could. 

Still, my time is MY OWN. This morning was fairly typical for me these days; I really appreciate my morning routine and mostly stick to it no matter where I might be. Up around 7 AM, coffee and breakfast, check email/or read what’s come in on phone from the outside world, feed Pepper, go out for a quick potty, and now the new element of giving her an insulin shot. I meditate or do yoga every morning as well. This doesn’t always happen in the same order, but it’s the same, nevertheless.

Checking email is a thing left over from when I worked. Email and instant messaging was how I communicated with my student staff as well as professional staff and supervisors and colleagues – to get things done. I know that many people of my age get frustrated navigating so many emails and online sources, but I am, not only used to it, I enjoy it. And, I don’t feel compelled to open every single email or read every single notification or message. I think that’s what gets most people who are so tied to their phones. 

I keep up with current events, usually in Apple News. I really enjoy pursuing whatever I want to follow in any given morning. Today, I read a few short pieces in the New Yorker and from Hidden City Philadelphia – all before 8:30 AM. I had perused all the emails and notifications, skipped a few and deleted a few, marked a few to go back to at a later time. 

The New Yorker abstract that stood out to me was about the recent events at Stonewall in Greenwich Village. I find it very encouraging because I agree that attacking the LGBTQ community is not only heinous, but it is a community that won’t stand for harassment. Here it is:

What Just Happened?
This week, the Trump Administration ordered a large Pride flag to be removed from Stonewall National Monument in New York City.What’s it like there right now?“I just came from the Stonewall site, a few blocks from where I live. A large American flag now flies wanly in Christopher Park, where the rainbow one flew last week. If you want to see rainbows, however, there’s no shortage of them: a row of small Pride flags is affixed to the park gate, and the Stonewall Inn, which is a privately owned bar, has them hanging in spades from the windows, along with blue-and-pink transgender flags. I saw a hand-drawn sign taped to the park gate that reads ‘PRIDE FLAG GOES HERE,’ next to a little box with pins that say ‘Faggots against MAGAts.’ So, safe to say that this community will outlast this Administration by a mile.“This is obviously an outrage—an absurd one, a symbolic one, but a deliberate one. Local officials have vowed to raise a new rainbow flag in opposition to the Department of the Interior’s directive. Good. Stonewall is Stonewall because of a riot—more than anything, it’s a monument to defiance.”—Michael Schulman, a staff writer who has covered what happened to the bricks thrown at Stonewall during a police raid in 1969.

Not unlike what happened last week in Philadelphia and what is happening now at the site of George Washington’s house where the exhibit focusing on the enslaved people who lived there was taken down by the Federal Government. From CBS Philly – Crowd rallies to restore slavery exhibit.I can’t help but be concerned (that’s an understatement) about the horrific actions and behaviors of the current White House administration, so I’m usually following some story or other – something new and awful almost every day!

To maintain a balance, I’ll just go with something that catches my interest. This morning it was two posts from Hidden City PhiladelphiaReuse Plan for Wanamaker’s Grand Court Gets the Go-Ahead – I am so happy that space is being preserved. Also, from Hidden City, I learned about the Song of Philadelphia Podcast, which I cannot wait to listen to. 

I could go on, but I need to go about my planned Friday, which is to visit the Philadelphia Museum of Art’s Surrealism exhibit, which closes soon. (By the way, I am so glad the name change was reversed.) I do NOT want to miss it! Even in retirement, I find that I miss out on all the things I would want to do. In any event, while my fantasy retirement hasn’t come true, I know I will never be bored. Even though there’s much to be angry and sad about given the state of things today – an ugly American administration and the ugly remains of the snowstorm in Philly – a retirement like mine is not so bad. 

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No Death, No Fear

The title of this post is the title of a book by Thich Nhat Hanh, which I am reading these days to help get through what’s going on in my world and in the world around me.

Lately, the storms that blew across the country and touched down in Philadelphia, where I live, have made things difficult for me and my little dog, Pepper. In addition to dealing with the weather extremes, Pepper just got diagnosed as diabetic. But, as I often say, I have good, bad luck. The bad luck almost always has a positive note. Last week I shed lots of tears, processing this new phase of Pepper’s life and confronting the fact that she likely is coming closer to her end. She’s been in my life since 2015, a little over 10 years. My best guess is she’s 14 years old, an old girl even though she’s a little one.

But, the upside to her new condition is that she loves the prescription food AND she takes her insulin shot with hardly a flinch. Today, we get her set up with a monitor that attaches to her back to track her blood sugar. There it is: good, bad luck.

The world around me, as I see it, is continuing to be marred by the tumult fomented by the current administration in the White House. I am still so very angry that people are suffering unnecessarily and that Renee Good and Alex Pretti had to die in their efforts to resist.

The renowned Vietnamese Buddhist monk, whose teachings had global reach, was also a peace activist, prolific author, and poet. I share his ideas here not for comfort, but for perspective.

Listen to Thich Nhat Hahn on Anger

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Letter to my Senator

Every month I try to write a letter to Pennsylvania Senators Dave McCormick and John Fetterman. I need to express to them my dissatisfaction with the current state of the United States. I don’t participate much in politics; nor do I consider myself an activist. But, I am concerned about social justice, I vote in every election, I pay attention to reputable news organizations, to what politicians are doing and how their actions affect the social fabric of the nation, the welfare of Americans, the economy, and the culture. Because I don’t like crowds, I don’t often go to protests or rallies, though I did attend the two “No Kings” events in Philadelphia in June and in October. I don’t like to knock on doors. I don’t like to make phone calls. I think much of this aversion to that kind of grassroots activism goes back to when I was a teenager working for my father, who devoted his life to local politics. I was often with him at Democratic Headquarters in center city, especially right before any election he was involved in. I went with him to canvass neighborhoods, worked with the volunteers on mailings, and made cold calls from the mountainous lists of voters at headquarters. I hated the phone calls most of all. I also hated what I saw and heard behind the scenes, the trading of favors, the quid pro quo, the sometimes vicious machinations of politics, even while I realized that getting anything done requires negotiation and compromise. I often wonder what Buddy Pitts (my father) would think if he was alive today. Everyone was his “friend” it seemed when we’d be at political functions or fund-raisers, though I am sure he had enemies. He was a Republican when Nixon ran against Kennedy. He switched to the “D” side at some point. His politics had less to do with ideology and more to do with personality and the particular group of people who were in power at any given time.

But, it’s 2025 and I am living through what many call unprecedented times in the U.S. I have to express my point of view to the people in power, so I try to write a letter once a month. This month’s letter to Senator Dave McCormick is below. I address the senators directly, even though I know they are not, themselves, likely to read the letters they receive. Some staffer might read it and send a response; or maybe they just have stock responses? Who knows? I just have to do something.

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Feeling Helpless

I am feeling helpless. Like many others I am frightened by the actions of the White House after only 1 month of this administration. I am trying to figure out what I can do. Today, I also learned that a good friend of mine who suffered a traumatic brain injury a few months ago will likely pass away within the next day or so. Today, I can only try to be intentional with everything I do. Feeling the sadness, feeling helpless and sharing thoughts and feelings in writing.

This weekend I was enrolled in the online offering of a Haiku & Poetry program with Upaya Zen Center in Santa Fe, New Mexico. On the panel were Roshi Joan Halifax, Sensei Kaz Tanahashi, Jimmy Santiago Baca, Jane Hirshfield, and Ian Boyden. While I didn’t get to participate directly, it was really a wonderful program; I plan to revisit the recordings of the sessions that I missed. Panelists mentioned two Chinese poets I was unfamiliar with. Wang Wei and Du Fu lived in China during a period of upheaval, the An Lushan rebellion (755–759) the time of the Tang Dynasty.

When I cannot think of anything to say or to write myself because overwhelmed with feelings of helplessness or sadness or anger or frustration, I write out poems of others. I will be writing out two poems today and share them here.

Spring Prospect

The nation [is] shattered, though mountains and rivers remain.
The city in spring, grass and trees have grown deep.
Feeling the time, even flowers draw tears.
Resenting separation, even birds strain the heart.
Beacon fires unstoppable through the third month,
A letter from home [is] worth ten thousand in gold.
Hairs whitened, fewer for the scratching;
Desires upset no longer hold a hairpin up.

Du Fu

And another written closer to the time period we are in currently.

Let Them Not Say

Let them not say: we did not see it.
We saw.

Let them not say: we did not hear it.
We heard.

Let them not say: they did not taste it.
We ate, we trembled.

Let them not say: it was not spoken, not written.
We spoke,
we witnessed with voices and hands.

Let them not say: they did nothing.
We did not-enough.

Let them say, as they must say something:

A kerosene beauty.
It burned.

Let them say we warmed ourselves by it,
read by its light, praised,
and it burned.

Jane Hirshfield