When I retired I was quite elated that I would no longer have to do any work. That is work other than the menial chores of maintaining a household. The rest of the time I would play--perpetual play for the rest of my life. This attitude only lasted for about the first week of retirement. I soon found myself redefining what for me was work and what was play and just exactly what was rest and recreation anyway? Since I did quite a bit of writing in the last 10 years of my job, it seemed like writing was work.
I soon adjusted to retired life. The only writing I did was in our travel log as we journeyed here and there in our beloved VW camper van to many different parts of the U. S. “Mileage today was 350. Spent the night at Frigid Frosty Forest Service campground. Woke up to snow and froze our butts,” would be a typical entry into the journal.
Then one day about twelve years into retirement my partner Gill and I were presented with the opportunity to join a certain writing group at the LGBT Center. Currently I was told the group is made up of about 10-15 men--zero women, but surely more women would be joining the group. Well, that’s okay I said. I like men. But do I want to do the work of writing?
How often does the group meet, I ask? Every week. Surely, I say to myself, we don’t all write something every week. Probably we take turns so that each individual ends up writing something maybe once a month. I suppose I could try this out. When I learned that there is an assigned topic about which every one writes and shares with the group, it did seem for a moment like this would be burdensome. But Gill was enthused about doing it so why not give it a try. After all, I could pass or just not attend when I had nothing to share.
I must confess. The fact that this group was made up of men did get my attention. I had always had men in my life. I was close to my father and adored him. I was married for 25 years to my best friend, and I have a son and grandson whom I love very much. Life as a lesbian leaves little room for men and I had missed the contacts.
I made some close male friends years ago when I answered an announcement in the LGBT community for anyone interested in forming a tennis group. I showed up on the appointed day at Congress Park tennis courts with 20 men--no women. Our group maintained the same twenty-something to one gender ratio for several years. I became very good friends with some of these men and consider a couple of them still my friends although the group broke up several years ago after about 7-8 years of tennis and friendship.
But a writing group? Creating a piece of writing EVERY week. Telling my story. That sounds like work to me. I’ll have to exercise my brain and delve into memories and emotional stuff of the past and present. Do I really want to do that? Writing. Much harder than talking or thinking or imagining. After all, I thought, writing my story I will have to finish my dangling thoughts as well as correcting my dangling participles. Do I really want to get into that?
That was two years ago. Here I am cranking out the words to share just about every darn week. I feel deprived if I miss a week. I had no idea I would get so much out of being a part of this group when I was considering whether or not to join.
I have learned more than I can measure from the stories I hear from others on Monday afternoons. Sometimes funny and entertaining, sometimes heart-wrenching, sometimes informative, sometimes insightful, sometimes inspiring. I believe these Monday afternoons hone not only my writing skills, but also my listening skills. I don’t want to miss a word most of the time.
Furthermore, there is tremendous value to me in documenting experiences I have had, feelings I now have or have had in the past, beliefs I hold dear; ie, documenting who I am. The process of telling one’s story is not always easy, but with practice it gets easier. How much value the stories have for anyone else I will never know. But I find it oddly comforting knowing that I am leaving them behind when I depart this life.
Finally I believe this Monday afternoon activity of telling our stories gives a broader perspective on our own lives--a perspective perhaps not otherwise attained and certainly a perspective not easily attained.
March 3, 2013
About the Author
Betsy has been active in the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver women’s chorus, OLOC (Old Lesbians Organizing for Change). She has been retired from the Human Services field for about 15 years. Since her retirement, her major activities include tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a volunteer instructor with National Sports Center for the Disabled, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage. She has a close relationship with her three children and enjoys spending time with her four grandchildren. Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her life with her partner of 25 years, Gillian Edwards.
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