Courtesy Terry Fierro, MA

There’s nothing like going back to work to improve your retirement years.  I recently accepted a part time gig at a brand-new Assisted Living facility close to my home.  

What a nest.

I mean we’re talking ombre designed cozy nooks.  Furniture, book spines and ceramics all in hues of warm colored oranges and yellows.  While another area features the beige, white and gray varieties.  Not to mention crackling fireplaces, cougar hair salons, “arrrgh”, and piano lounges with Frank Sinatra crooning to the tunes of the 40s.

I quickly realized I didn’t want to work there, I wanted to live there. 

Some of my new job responsibilities, as an activities assistant, include leading karaoke, bingo, exercise and arts and crafts.  They will soon see that my enthusiasm far exceeds my abilities in any one of these domains

but until then… 

I’m even going to be trained to drive the sixteen passenger bus to local restaurants and attractions.  

In other words it’s like kindergarten all over again.  Without the disciplinary problems. Mine, not the residents’. 

Anyway, to stay on point, on the first day, after I suited up, co-vid style, I visited with each of the residents in their rooms.  Mostly women and mostly older.  Ruby and I sat and chatted about the good old days while watching Golden Girl reruns and scrolling through her old photo albums.

Did I say scrolling?  How 2021 of me.  I meant reminiscing.

In my new job, I’m also required to take computer training on various aspects of aging.  This week the topic was dementia.  I scored a perfect 100% on the exam.  Mainly because I can relate to many of the symptoms.   Wandering with no known purpose throughout the house while talking to myself, rummaging through drawers to find God knows what, having a hard time making sense of the world around me and feeling stressed by my environment.  Wait a minute, is that dementia or life with teenagers?   

Please tell me I’m not alone.

I even learned a new word – “elopement”.

Wandering that takes a person away from a safe setting.  In my new role I need to keep an eye out for residents who elope.  If anyone looks like George Clooney, I’ll elope with them.

Before I transitioned to Julie McCoy, your Cruise Director, I spent over 25 years in Education.  I promised myself that if I ever decided to return to work, even part-time, it would have to be something low tech, include lots of movement to channel my ADD, and make a contribution to my community.

Which is a lot more fun than house cleaning.  I mean, seriously, who doesn’t want to part with dust bunnies on a daily basis.  

In the past, I used working full time as an excuse as to why my home decor wasn’t Zen inspired.  Why the heady aroma of time-consuming homemade bread wasn’t wafting through my neighborhood and why I couldn’t help my daughters with their homework.  I’m looking at you Algebra II.  In any event, you can see where this is going.  

It was a bad year to retire.  After a while the rinse and repeat of webinars, meet-ups, and podcasts felt like eating the same meal every day. Not something you want to do unless it’s spaghetti.

With meatballs and lots of parmesan.

Anyway, the pandemic left me with no active retirement groups meeting in real time.  No chance to hire a personal trainer to develop my talents in painting, gardening or golfing.  Not that I have any talents in painting, gardening or golfing.   It was just the romantic retirement version gleaned from too much time envying television commercials. Even the travel brochures lost their allure, as they focused on the mingling of unmasked voyagers standing dangerously close to one another.

And no matter how much I zoom moved my body, at 63 I was never going to grace the cover of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue like Christie Brinkley with her two daughters.

Unless my two daughters owned the magazine.  In which case I could be photo shopped and air brushed to my heart’s delight.

But that was then and this is now.   Even though I’m a few years away from an empty nest, I found I needed some structure to my day, which I’m hoping this part-time gig will allow.  I like to have that connection to the outside world, the chance to use and further develop my talents and interests.  To give back while having fun and not taking myself too seriously.  After all we need to be productive to feel alive.

Besides I want to see what my options will be in the upcoming decades, should I decide that assisted living is a good fit for me.  No sense ignoring demographic inevitability.

So, scoot over Ruby.  Now who did you say that was standing next to you in your 1948 High School Yearbook?

Terry Fierro, MA

Educator, writer, actor.   A nature and travel lover who enjoys getting rid of stuff, shortening her to do list and reveling in JOMO (the joy of missing out).