Retirement Archives -

Uncharted Waters

An Interview with Beth Parnaby

A family tragedy forced Beth to make the difficult decision to uproot her life in Newcastle and return to the town of her teenage years in Castlemaine to look after her two elderly parents. Twelve years later, after the passing of her parents, she returned to Newcastle to resume the life she had left behind. She found herself in uncharted waters.

Unchartered Waters Drawing: Beth Parnaby

I spoke to her by phone in 2021 during one of the many lockdowns to find out more about how she navigated this challenging time.

How did the change in your lifestyle come about?

I wasn’t planning to retire but when my elder sister, who had just retired to Castlemaine, was killed in a car accident, I retired early so I could care for my elderly parents. That was when I was 63 – almost 12 years ago now. The sudden move was a big change, from a vibrant industrial city on the ocean, to caring for elderly parents, and it felt at first like my life had shrunk down to nothing. I managed to get some work at Bendigo TAFE one day a week teaching art to VCAL students, many of whom were emotionally disturbed. I have taught art in the prison system and always find it rewarding to see the healing potential of the visual arts, but combined with caring for my parents it was challenging – both the work itself and dealing with a completely different TAFE system to NSW.

When you were caring for your parents did you need to work or was it for other reasons?

I didn’t have enough Super to retire comfortably, so yes, I needed to work, fortunately it was well paid. Also, shortly after taking the work ‘life’ stepped in with a gift. I had to go to Social Security in Bendigo for something related to my income and the woman behind the desk, with no promptings from me, out of the blue, insisted I go onto a carer’s pension. She wouldn’t take no for an answer! She pointed out all the hours I was putting in to look after my parents and that even with one day’s work I passed the income test. She got it all organised for me right there and then. I accepted the gift and it was a great help.

So essentially you were not retired at that point as you were still working caring for your parents. How long did you care for them?

My mother passed on in 2010 and my father in 2014, so that makes it five years, I was sixty-eight. I did have some fun times. My father didn’t mind going into respite care while my mother and I took off on short weekend trips to some of our favourite places, like Lakes Entrance, and we even made it to Cann River in Gippsland to attend her friend’s 100th birthday party. We got to know each other better, resolved a few issues and I was able to see another side to her – she was good company and could be very witty. Also, after my mother passed on, every year my father would hire a local venue and throw a big birthday party for friends and family. Great fun.

After the storm we swam and fished. David Parnaby
.

You must have found it very challenging to make such a major decision – moving not only towns but states?

When I first came back to Castlemaine from Newcastle as I’ve said, I felt I had thrown away my life. I still had things in Newcastle that were really interesting, I had an offer of work that would have carried me well into my retirement years. A part of me asked whether I was undervaluing myself, running off to look after my parents. Being the single aunt in the family I had pressure from my sister who felt someone needed to be there for our parents. Meanwhile other friends were saying “They’ve lived their life, now it’s up to you to live yours!”

It was my choice and I don’t have any regrets. When my mother passed away I felt an inner peace. I sensed the joy as her soul left her body and was free to move on to the next part of her journey. I think it was such a precious experience, because as she got older, at times, she was very difficult to get on with, and so was I.

Also, I reconnected with artist friends in Castlemaine, made some new friends, and had some great times. It was a decade of rich experiences. I still miss it sometimes.

Now that you are back at Newcastle do you feel the need to try and recoup the “lost time” as it were? Such as reconnecting with any career opportunities?

I’ve been away from Newcastle for a decade and everything’s been swept away. The changes here are quite dramatic. The extent of the development, the congestion on the roads. The programs I was working with are all gone. I have changed a lot too. I feel I’m coming into a whole new cycle.

Are you still in touch with your former colleagues?

I am still in touch with four friends, some colleagues have passed on. The Art Schools where I worked no longer exist. Government supported art colleges have finished their cycle. The new competency-based system dumbed things down and made it difficult to teach creatively.

How have you coped during the recent lockdowns?

On the whole they haven’t affected my lifestyle much. In fact, I was talking with friends and we all agreed that the lockdowns had slowed down the pace of life and given us some ‘breathing space’. I like to start each morning with a meditation exercise, followed by a walk with Florence, my dog. I try to make it the best walk we can have on that day. If I get a little nudge to go to a particular place that’s where we’ll go. Life itself is a gift.

I live across the road from Lake Macquarie. You can walk for miles and miles around its foreshore. I have had some magical walks – it’s such a joy living near a large expanse of water.

Florence looking painterly in Lake Macquarie

As long as I have some form of nature nearby, I can let go of all my concerns and worries for a while. At times I even regain that child-like sense of wonder.

It is that childlike sense of wonder you’re hoping to evoke in the children’s book you are writing and illustrating. Tell me a bit more about that.

Yes, I wrote this story when I was eight, based on our annual holidays at Tamboon Inlet where my father had built a holiday house. The only access to this wilderness beach was by river. Well, the river flowed into a lake and that flowed into the sea. My father loved to design and build boats. The story is an imaginary sea adventure the family takes in dad’s boat. My parents encouraged my writing and drawing and kept most of my story books, all on cheap butchers’ paper. I wrote the story in 1954 and my father decided to illustrate it in 1970. He had this idea that he’d like to publish it. That didn’t happen. Later I took up the project again and saw how I could combine his illustrations with mine and produce the book.

Drawings and layout by David Parnaby for Beth’s story – with original spelling.

It still hasn’t been completed. I was well into the process again when I left Castlemaine. It’s like a picture book with words. I like it because it reminds me of my childhood adventures. I do hope I push through and complete it. A project stretched over a lifetime.

Now that you’re back in your ‘hood’ do you feel you’ve reconnected with your community?

Well, my community has moved on so I am trying to stay open and flexible about all the changes. I’m in my mid 70s now and I take things a lot slower. I have made some new friends and my reconnections with a few old friends are working out well.

I came here with certain expectations about my commitments to family but they haven’t turned out as planned. I’ve learned to expect the unexpected. For me at the moment it is important to be able to step back. I’m learning not to take offence. Don’t give advice unless it’s asked for! It’s a big one. I’m learning to, “Just Let it Be” – take a few deep breaths and a long, slow count to ten. Don’t jump in. Don’t react straight away. It does seem to be working and of course the dynamics are constantly changing.

Just letting things be gives me the freedom to create the life I want for myself now too. My younger sister and I helped each other out throughout our life. I miss her, but it is such a gift that she wanted me to live here.

I think the world is in uncharted waters at the moment. I try to remain captain of my own ship, and stay on course by tuning into my inner guidance, my intuition and little nudges. Life is ever the teacher.

Life is ever the teacher. Image Beth Parnaby, Lake Macquarie

Elegy to 2021

Well I made my will and I paid those bills.
Looked for stimulation but ‘twas a no-go zone.
Filling up the day like a one note drone
Exercise, catastrophize, calm it down, look around
No people on the street, no-one in my home
Just a gloomy cloud like a funeral shroud.

Delayed vaccines and no sight of quarantine
Then a human rights disaster in Afghanistan 
With women’s lives castrated by the Taliban
A culture of misogyny on Capital Hill
Prompts outcries of no more – we’ve had our fill
And Morrison denies that he lied to the French
Corruption and pork barreling – can you smell the stench?

And meanwhile the people don’t seem to have a choice
It’s a bird, it’s a plane, no it’s Barnaby Joyce.
Tele-health, remote learning and meeting on Zoom
Leading digital lives – no contact in the room.
We’re waiting for the numbers to drop down low
So the hospitals can cope with the overflow.

A Covid safe Olympics and lots of Aussie Gold
Cheered us up for a moment and our hearts were bold
Followed closely by more lockdowns with the Delta strain
Isolation, fear and boredom nearly drove us insane.
Then our streets were filled, with rabid anti-vaxxers,
The conspiracy theorists and Dictator Dan detractors.

So we gobbled Netflix shows to escape the fiasco
Of a gas lead recovery and embarrassment at Glasgow.
No wonder Elon Musk sets his eyes on Mars
With Earth ruled by dinosaurs clinging to their cars 
So 2021 you’re a dismal farce
Your sole redeeming feature – the Thursday Writers’ class.

**School Report** *Photo Credit: Rhoufifoto*

The Broken Promise

By Annie Ryall

An Afghan Shoulder Bag. Image courtesy : https://etsy.me/3gmyUlk — Afghan Bag similar to mine when new. Image courtesy VintageEnvisionary
https://etsy.me/3gmyUlk

Packing up and sorting my city flat to move to the country I came across a shoulder bag. No ordinary bag, it was made of hand-woven carpet with naturally dyed wool. The strap had become frayed and moth infested. It was time to do a Marie Kondo on it. It didn’t “spark joy” but brought memories flooding back.

After two years living in France from 1975 to 1977, my French anarchist existentialist boyfriend and I decided to return to Australia. We took the overland route from Europe to India on his Suzuki 750 motor bike. Taking this route was a rite of passage for free spirits of the 70s although Georges was the ultimate anti hippy. Easy access to hashish and a transcendental experience were not for him. The bike’s saddlebags smelt permanently of leather and Roquefort cheese with a subtle overlay of red wine.

Turkey delighted us with its rich traditions of Greek, Roman and Ottoman cultures while in Iran we managed to survive a road accident before heading into Afghanistan. There were two routes. One across the north was shorter but more treacherous and one going south was longer but a better road.

The revolutionary Water Bottle in all her glorious wattle yellow and green glory.
Photo courtesy https://www.oldbikemag.com.au

We were within 50km of Kandahar when the bike puttered to a stop. All attempts to start it failed. Georges was furious as only the French can be: “’Fait chier”, “Putain de merde” and other expletives expressed his disgust.

Meanwhile I was starting to panic and felt sick in the stomach. Stranded in the Afghan desert, I had visions of dying from sun stroke and dehydration or another quicker more violent end.

There was nothing for it but to try and thumb a lift into Kandahar.

After about 10 minutes – amazingly – an old tray truck came past and pulled to a halt. I had visions of bandits brandishing Kalashnikovs jumping out but instead two pleasant looking guys wearing the traditional Perahan Tunban – a white loose long top and pants – stepped out to help us; they were very curious about the bike.

We mimed “bike broken” and “need bike repair shop”. Without any fuss they proceeded to lift the wounded Suzuki onto their truck while Georges fussed and clucked over his baby, worrying about how it would cope with this manhandling. Through mentally gritted teeth I thought: “For Christ’s sake Georges, bugger the bloody bike, let’s just get to Kandahar. These lovely guys have stopped to help us. Let’s just be grateful!”

Approaching Kandahar at sunset the truck stopped near a meagre stream, the driver gesturing they needed to pray. After their salat al asr and in the interests of domestic harmony, they used sand and water to wash out the grease from their bike sullied pristine white robes.(!)

Arriving in Kandahar our friends dropped us and the bike off at the local bike shop. It was not much more than a shack with a hard mud floor. Out the front was a motley collection of old motor bikes – Indians, several old army motorbikes, a Royal Enfield – all in dubious states of repair but valued and a status symbol. So when our 1975 Suzuki Water Cooled (the first of its kind) turned up it was like the iPhone 11 landing in a pre-digital world. Something to be admired and desired.

Toolmakers in a shop similar to the bike shop in Kandahar – Photo courtesy Jean-Claude Latombe http://ai.stanford.edu/~latombe/mountain/photo/afghanistan/afghanistan.htm *

The mechanic – who wore a kurta and traditional Pamiri hat and looked about 14 – conferred with his colleagues all squatting on the ground around the injured beast. The head mechanic then spoke through the Mullah who was called to be our translator and declared proudly that yes they could fix the bike and held up two fingers.

“Two days? That would be great!”

The Mullah shook his head. “No. He means two weeks”.

We were mortified, but really what choice did we have?

I headed for the grocery shop near our run-down accommodation and was thrilled to find Kraft cheddar cheese and Sao biscuits. These became my staple meal for the time I was there – It made a change from gristly goat’s meat in a tepid bain marie. Georges had a cast iron stomach and could eat anything as long as it was disinfected with red wine. Water was a poor excuse for liquid to him.

The days wore on and every so often we would call in to the “bike shop” to check on progress of our Suzuki. Necessity was truly the mother of creation for these guys. There were no parts available to fix the engine so they fashioned parts out of old jam tins and random washers using the soldering iron to great effect. There were several bare foot boys in kurtas running around helping with the repairs and serving the ubiquitous green tea to customers.

Afghan Shopkeepers – image courtesy Matt Karsten :https://expertvagabond.com/ **

The bike was much discussed and admired in the town. One of those was a young man called Farzaad known to our Hotel owner. He was a man of relative means in Kandahar and he had his eye on the Suzuki – how it could give him status in the community. He kept offering to buy it and Georges would always brush him off – it was like asking for his right arm.

As time wore on and it was 12 days after our arrival Georges was becoming despondent and started talking about taking Farzaad up on his offer and flying back home to Australia even though he had a horror of flying – an indication of his mood.

He finally agreed to sell the bike to Farzaad for $500 and shook hands on it. But two days later when the bike was ready Georges changed his mind. He happened to mention this to the Mullah who was horrified.

“You mean you have agreed to sell your bike to Farzaad and now you are going back on your promise?”

“Well.. yes. Is there a problem with that?”

“Listen to me. Don’t tell anyone about this. You must do exactly as I say or your lives will be in danger.” He made a throat cutting gesture.

“Pack your bags and come to the carpet sellers’ shop. We will hide you and your motor bike in there. You must sleep there tonight and someone will be on guard. Then at dawn we will wake you, give you some food and you must leave. Do as I say and you will be safe.”

Georges was most scornful of this and received it with a Gallic shrug and a “Borf” but the Mullah insisted and I could see that we had to do exactly as he said.

We picked up the bike, thanking the amazingly resourceful mechanic and his crew, then headed for the carpet shop. There, “she” was wheeled in with reverence and sat resplendent amidst piles of carpets and garlands of hanging bags. Seeing the young man standing guard over her, rifle slung casually from his shoulder was still a sharp reminder of the danger of our situation.

After a nervous and fitful night’s sleep we were shaken awake and given a breakfast I could hardly eat. Stomach clenched with fear, I couldn’t wait to get out of there. Would the bike start? Would Farzaad come after us? Had he found out our plan?

Georges kick started once, kick started twice and then on the third go it started. Whew! My heart was pounding.

Just as we were about to make our get away the Carpet Seller’s son came running out of the shop waving something. It was my Afghan shoulder bag! In my panic I had left if behind. I threw it over my shoulder and waved an effusive thank-you. We were finally away.

There followed nail biting hairpin bends through the Khyber pass, curfews in Peshawar, Kamikazi truck drivers in India and a stomach churning trip on a Russian boat from Madras to Perth before we finally arrived in Melbourne.

Not long afterwards it may not surprise you to hear dear reader that I parted ways with Georges. There were 3 of us in this relationship and I knew which one of us had to go. There was simply no contest.

* Check out this fantastic site featured on my Top Picks page:

Jean Claude LaTombe – Travel Blog

** Another terrific travel blog by Matt Karsten featured on my Top Picks page:

Expert Vagabond Travel Blog

The Agony and the Exorcise

Wake up.. try to go back to the dream… what was it? Driving a car down an impossible rubbery road. Do I have a baby in the back.. Rory? The more I try to grasp it the more it eludes me. Reluctantly accept I had better start the routine.

Fantasize about delicious toast redolent with salted butter, tangy apricot jam and on the other, sharp salty Vegemite… all washed down with strong red dust Rhooibus… prop my pillows up… grab a really absorbing book… ah bliss !

Instead it’s lying on back with blankets up to neck. Yank left sock off and make sure it lands on bedside table not floor or in bedclothes WHERE IT COULD END UP FOREVER LOST IN A BERMUDA TRIANGLE.

Body Part – Left Knee

1.Slides x 18

See it’s not that bad… quite relaxing really. See how nice it is to feel the cool 1000 thread count sheet under your foot? Brain remains pleasantly disengaged.

2. Knee presses. Hand outside blanket counting hold for 5 counts x 18 repeats

Six, eleven,.. damn, what was I up to? Start with 5 again. Concentrate… That was weird the bit in the dream about a plumber with a mad red wig. First his head was not attached, then when I looked again it was on his body. The half built house – plasterboard off in one spot…what was I up to? Surely I’ve finished…

Body Part – Arms

3. Hands clasped straight arm raises to 90 degrees x 18 repeats

Great. This one I can do mindlessly.

4.Lying on right side, place cushion under left slightly bent arm & using fairly hard to locate muscle to lift from the elbow up. x 18 repeats.

Is this week recycling week? Should I have put the extruded plastic steak container in the recycling? Did it have a triangle on the back? Is it going to landfill anyway? Back to counting.

Body Part – Core

5. Knees raised, feet on sheet, cushion between legs, pelvic floor pull ups x 10 repeats

It’s the one I dread because it requires so much effort. Where are those bloody muscles? Am I actually doing them? Should do them more often especially when driving.. seven (was it seven?).. keep going, concentrate… think of a beautifully firm pelvic floor – saving your back! Incontinence begone.

Phew – one lot done. Heave and rotate body (as per physio’s advice so legs hit the ground without injuring back) out of bed. In auto pilot retrieve cushion and foam mat out of wardrobe (taking care not to jam fingers in adjacent sliding wardrobe door) and take into the lounge room. Remember that you need to not have an asthma attack whilst doing this exercise so go to bathroom, do not pass Go. Take your asthma medications x 2 inhalers. Rinse mouth with warmish water so as not to get jagged spike of pain in left upper tooth.

Remember safety and preventative measures are paramount at this age… yawn.

Set Spotify to Chakra Healing (under “Calming Music”).

Use chair arm to gradually get to a kneeling position. From there gently unfold creaky joints to lying on stomach position on mat… breathe sigh of relief. You made it to a horizontal position!

Body Part – Spine (Bulging Disc)

6. Raise side chest muscles (lifting shoulders) x 18

This one’s easy and restful. At carpet level I notice a scrap of silver paper… must pick that up to hide evidence of chocolate bingeing from partner ..16, 17, 18.

7. Cobra… x 18 repeats breathing in on the uplift, breathe out to bring pelvis to floor to increase spinal bend.

Ahhhgghh… it’s only pain.. it will be all worth it in the end. I remember when “morning exercises” had another meaning. One day that drought might break so it will be handy to have a flexible back. Pay attention young lady and stop fantasizing… you’ll only be left with unresolved etc.

8. Still lying on stomach bend left leg at knee, roll to right, roll back and extend left leg while raised x 18 repeats

Getting good at this one… maybe it’s not doing much anymore. This is far too easy. Enjoy it while it lasts.

9. Lie on side feet together. Side clam knee lifts (left leg) x 18 repeats

10. Still on side: Lie with legs extended straight out then lift left leg, moving it back to original position x 18 repeats

Whew! Curl up in foetal position on side. Think about how to get up. Whatever you do – DON’’T be spontaneous. This requires concentration. Roll onto all 4s position then use arm of chair to stand up. Take cushion and mat back to wardrobe. Open other wardrobe door (without jamming fingers) and get out exercise ball.

Exercise Ball

Body Part – Lower back and core

Kneel down as if praying to ball then get in “hugging ball position”.

11. Curve body around ball. Do 5 x leg raises using unseen, unheard, unknown muscles in core to do so – making sure not to wobble too much.

I think I can vaguely feel some core muscles working there. To be encouraged. Speaking of curves… are we flattening it yet? Last time I looked it was more like a viciously steep parabola. Trying to remember where I hid that bottle of brandy? ..10,11,12

12. 5 x arm raises – to exercise all of core.

13. Put moccasins on for next exercise (so arthritic toe doesn’t bend). Lean weight on ball with legs stretched out and walk the ball forward and back, using deeply clenched lower back muscles but be careful not to strain anything.

Flop over ball breathing sigh of relief at having finished exercises.

14. Have shower.

Was it in the wardrobe?

After shower take:

15.Glucosamine

16.Fish Oil,

17. Garlic + Vitamin C + Horseradish tablets.

18. Do makeup: Base, eyeshadow, mascara.

Yes, even in lockdown. Musn’t let standards drop.

19. Insert hearing aids.

20. Get breakfast: muesli +cardboard GF cereal (Ancient Grains) + walnuts + fresh fruit + milk. Cup of tea.

21. Take anti-inflammatory tablet while eating breakfast.

Oh that’s right it’s in my pyjama drawer… but have I got any dry ginger to go with it?

Interview: Unleashing the Fire Within

**A hint of what lies close to her heart**

Our view of ourselves is influenced by many factors, not the least of which is our parents’ expectations of how we should behave to gain their approval. Once we leave our childhood home – for example to attend university in another state, as was the case for Angela, these layers of conditioning peel away. She swung into the counterculture with gusto, stripping off her conservative Perth upbringing. She even managed to fail a semester of her Library course – a badge of honour for a course with a 100% pass rate.

It is clear Angela has all the accoutrements of refinement although she wears these modestly. She is well read, speaks fluent French and is an accomplished piano player but there is an earthiness to her which entertains and surprises. She can suddenly burst into sharply accurate mime with vaudevillian physicality, and swear with gutsy passion – I have never heard a more beautifully enunciated F word! There were more surprises to come, as I discovered over the course of the interview.

**Ange in her Vaudevillian Disguise – not your common or garden librarian look**

Q: Skipping forward to today, how did you handle the transition to retirement?

In the lead-up to retiring fully, I was lucky enough to be able to gradually scale down my working hours to two days a week. I joined the U3A and on my non-working days, I took weekly French classes, and played cello in a classical music ensemble. Also, the year before I retired, I began volunteering 4 hours a week with a not-for-profit environmental organization. I eventually retired in December 2015 and those activities helped make the transition easier.

Q: So I imagine being fully retired gave you more time to enjoy your leisure activities. Was that the case?

Well, not entirely. When I first retired I did too much, saying “yes” to everything. For example, the U3A Ensemble I was in gave concerts at Deakin Edge each year. I was very stressed in the lead-up to these concerts “doing the things I was meant to be enjoying”. I loved the music but my skill levels weren’t up to the task. In the final year, when I was due to re-enroll in the ensemble I realized I had been wanting to leave for a long time but had felt I would be letting everyone down. At the same time, I was having cello lessons and planned to sit a cello exam. I realized I was doing that for my mother – proving to her that I could play the cello. Nonetheless, I did pass Grade 3 and got a B+, proving to myself that I could succeed if I was prepared to spend hours practicing every week in a room by myself.

Q: So do you think that your strong sense of obligation & loyalty were holding you back – that they were stopping you having fun?

Yes, exactly. The same sense of obligation applied to the French classes. I was doing my homework at midnight the night before each class. I seemed to be just running late all the time, in everything I did. In the end, I realized that the classes weren’t giving me what I really wanted which was to just speak French. Interestingly, about 12 months after I left the class, another former French student contacted me, suggesting we meet and just speak French about “n’importe quoi” for an hour each week. We did that for a number of years until I realized, not for the first time, that I needed to get my frenetic life back into balance. I had far too many regular, weekly commitments (enjoyable, as they were) and was beginning to feel overwhelmed.

But it was really in June 2017 that a major health hurdle forced me to reassess my priorities.

Q: So tell me a bit more about that

I injured my back and couldn’t sit down pain-free for three months. This meant that an overseas a trip we had planned had to be cancelled. I realized at the time, even before I hurt my back, that going overseas was something I was beginning to feel ambivalent about. The reason for this was that in May of that year, I had become involved in the Stop Adani movement. It was 2017, two years out from the Federal election, and we wanted to target Bill Shorten (my local MP) because, at the time, it looked as if he might be our next Prime Minister. We were hoping he might stop the Adani Carmichael mine if he won office. Being part of this #StopAdani group was really important to me and I later realized I had found my tribe. I became passionate about acting on climate change – I had always been concerned about the environment* but had never been actively involved before.

* In Angela’s household, no opened envelope went unused, there was a bucket in the shower during the drought years, and for washing dishes there was ye olde Velvet soap in a wire container.

**Ange (green cardigan, purple scarf) and some of her tribe in the #stopadani movement.**

Q: So would you say one of the positives of retirement is that you have been able to get in touch with your intuition, what you genuinely want to do, your passion ?

Yes, and the epiphany happened partly because of my back. As I said before, I was unable to sit down pain-free for three months, but as well as that, I couldn’t drive for four months. Being part of the #StopAdani group was one of the few things I was still able to do – it kept me focused. I would have to say that at that point, I realized I’d found not only my tribe but my goal in life. I became an activist. When you first retire you don’t always know what you want to do… you’ve sort of got to suck it and see. It can take you a while to find what you really want. It was a good group of people to be in. I found it was important and satisfying and I could use all my skills. I chose to do it… the group was very non-judgmental. I was probably the most judgmental of the group! It was not hierarchical. It was a very flat organization where I felt accepted. There was of course a command and control centre but people were aware of that. Some were more active than others but everyone had a role to play depending on their skills.

Outside Bill Shorten’s ALP Office in Moonee Ponds – 4 May 2018.

Q: Speaking of skills, in your voluntary work with Environment Victoria do you feel more valued as a volunteer rather than a paid worker?

Absolutely. I feel privileged to be allowed to work there. Another friend of mine also volunteers there and feels the same way. I feel much more valued than when I was working professionally as a librarian. The staff at EV really appreciate the contribution made by their volunteers. Being a volunteer is very special – you are making a contribution to society with no expectation of monetary gain (this makes you feel good) and, as a volunteer, you get to choose which organizations you want to work with. If the organization’s values don’t align with yours, you can move on, and keep hunting for your tribe

**Ange checks the health**
**of the planet outside Bill Shorten’s office in Moonee Ponds.**

It is clear that Angela has not just evolved from her conservative beginnings as a painfully shy young woman and later a librarian working in the background, but has undergone a radical metamorphosis. She has stepped into the very public arena of activism. See her stopping traffic at Moonee Ponds Junction or leading a rally, microphone in hand, one thing you can be sure of: the burning bright light of her passion is an inspiration to all, and a lesson in how not to have a quiet retirement.

Interview: Finding “Rhoufi”

A polio sufferer as a child, Bernard had to wear a full body splint for several years.

Fast forward 50 years and he found himself bound up by the restrictions of running his own engineering consultancy, a 55 hour a week strait jacket with no apparent succession plan.

A European holiday in 2012 was the catalyst for unleashing himself from his work. It was a gradual process of divesting himself of his clients and training up a colleague in the office of a long-time client to take over his work.

When I met up with him in January 2018 I asked him how he felt about being retired after 35 years of intensely demanding work and what he had found challenging in his post working life?

I wasn’t concerned about retiring as I had already started the transition process whilst I was working. I started scaling down the work and scaling up all my other interests.

The interests I chose were solo ones such as creative writing and photography. That way I didn’t need to rely on anyone and could start and stop anywhere and anytime.

The interesting thing was none of the activities were related in any shape or form to the work I did.

To such an extent that I created an alias on the internet – not because I was ashamed of who I was but I didn’t want my clients to know I was doing these things. It meant I could be completely free and straight up front with anything I did.

So the alias helped you make the leap from work to retirement ?

Yes and the other benefit was that I started to meet people through these interests who related to me as the alias.

Alias “Rhoufi” – a.k.a. Bernard in full sound tech regalia

When after posting photos and short stories as the alias I posted up a photo of myself, I received the following response: “ You appear to be a fairly old man…. I thought you were a 25 year old female – just the way you posted comments.” It really shook me up.

So your avatar was tapping into a much younger, more expressive persona ?

Maybe. Besides – the stereotypical engineer doesn’t write stories nor take photos. People think they’re nerds!

Moving on to your retirement activities, have you been involved in any voluntary activities?

I’ve been able to contribute my technical skills to a U3A Photography group. Many retirees have an interest in photography but downloading them and preparing them for exhibition may be too much of a challenge.

I was also able to lead a photography group that put on an exhibition every year and I built a website for them.

Poster for “Shot in the Heart of Melbourne Exhibition” 2014. Rhoufi Foto.

Did you feel valued in that role ?

Very much so. We successfully staged the exhibition now for 5 years and it’s getting more popular.

Let’s say you were paid for that role, do you think you would feel just as valued ?

That’s an interesting question. I wouldn’t want to be paid. I spent so many years doing a job for money that when I started to do things I really liked I didn’t want it to be about money.

I get more satisfaction from doing something and not being paid than being paid. I’m sure some people will think that’s odd.

Gadawon’s Scary Fingers. The Rhoufi Foto Avatar

Many people find once they’re no longer involved with their “work community” they can feel socially isolated. Do you feel you have found your “retirement” community ?

Very much so although it has changed somewhat from the early photographic exhibitions.

I have also become involved with a theatrical group that puts on a play each year based around James Joyce’s writing, like Ulysses. I convinced them to photograph and video their performances and that led me to delve further into film making – like a dog sniffing I follow my nose now!

I had book marked this group called Filmonik which is a kind of open mike session for makers of short films. I went to see them.

It was like walking into your lost tribe. I even get emotional thinking about it because the room was full of 25-30 year olds and I was more than twice their age. By the time I left the room I didn’t feel any older than them.

Bernard and the Sydney Kino Group (equivalent to Melbourne’s Filmonik Group)

Wow – that must have been an amazing feeling.

They operate in a totally non-judgmental way in a very collaborative spirit. Their egos are very contained, they manage to suppress them. That was over 2 years ago and I think I have only missed one monthly session.

They go to extraordinary lengths so you don’t feel threatened. It’s deliberate – they know exactly what they are doing. I feel completely at home with them and have made 8 separate movies with them. They are exceptionally good fun.

So if anyone had said to you when you were starting out your engineering degree that post age 60 you would find your community in a group of young filmmakers.. ?

Not possible. It’s as far from that as I could possibly imagine.

Filmonik Melbourne is an inclusive open-screen short film night and meetup

I note that in this film group at their yearly Kabaret intensive you still have to meet deadlines – films need to be conceived and produced in a 48 hour period. How are these particular deadlines different from the stress you experienced in your working life?

The outcome is not as critical. If you deliver substandard documents in the work sphere the repercussions are serious. All goes to hell. I was prepared to work late into the night to get my documents exactly right.

This tendency towards perfectionism… how does this play out in a field you really enjoy and are passionate about?

For some unknown reason it doesn’t seem to be as important. There is always a point when you can just stop. That would be the case with most creative things.

Provided it does what it’s doing it’ll be good. You can spend twice as much time on it and get a 10% improvement.

I like Street Photography because it is imperfect by its very nature. People don’t stand still, you can’t make the light be where it’s supposed to be. Your skill is capturing it right then and there. It’s very much now or you’ll miss it for good.

So is there something you have found a challenge in retirement?

The area which bothers me the most is writing. That’s far more perfectionistic. It takes so much time, it takes so much effort.

I’m halfway through a novel and have been for quite a few years. You could be working on it for 12 months and never have any idea if it’s any good.

You might submit it to a publisher and they drop it in the bin. You’ve just slogged your guts out for 12 months and got nothing in return. That can be very dispiriting. So I’ve worked out that a way to get back to writing is via this film group.

I can convert my short stories into film scripts and that’s what I’m currently doing.

So what would your advice be to those considering retirement or semi-retirement ? How could they prepare for it ?

I think it’s really important to start doing something you really love – whether it’s a creative or sporting activity while you’re working even if it’s only once a week on a Saturday.

That way you can build on it and make your transition to retirement a smoother one.

The Retirement Rollercoaster. Rhoufi Foto.

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We hope you enjoyed Bernard’s story as part of our exploration of what it means to be retired.

His experience doesn’t conform to the standard definition of a “withdrawal” (from the French retirer – to withdraw or pull back) but much more of a joyous unwinding.

A liberating experience which is more in tune with the Spanish word for retirement – una jubilacion !

We are still collecting responses from our retirement, semi-retirement survey so those of you who have not completed it please do so here

Leaping into the Void

Avoiding the 3 B’s

By Annie Ryall

Retirement. Such a limiting word. It conjures up images of bingo, bowls and boredom. The absence of doing something.

It implies your usefulness is at an end for how many of us value work which is not paid?

You are fiddle faddling around doing activities to “fill in time” whilst you’re waiting for poverty, a dreaded malady or worse still the insidious erosion of capacity to set in.

Am I fated to knit egg warmers for the CWA ??

In this blog I set out to challenge this view.

Perhaps we should change the word we use for this phase of life?

I mean when you look at the word “re-tire” it’s as if you are already tired and by stopping work (or partially stopping work) you get to be tired all over again??? Exhausting….

Admittedly after 40-50 odd years of working you may well be tired and deserve some down time.

Of course the dictionary meaning comes from the French verb “retirer” meaning to “withdraw to a place of safety or seclusion.”

Whatever your interpretation, I think the term re-tirement is due for a makeover.

Where to start? What is my bucket list?

Learning how to think again – (it could take a while)
Cranking up the rusty cogs of creativity one faded neuron at a time
Taking a “nothing to lose and even less to give” attitude to get on board with a cause I am passionate about
Writing a staggeringly insightful, comedic play to world (well at least my family’s) acclaim
Sharing and promoting great things that other people are doing (in a non FOMO way)

Hope is a great thing.

Writing Backwards — First day of retirement – a byo sanger at Bunnings?

To launch into this void, I need to find out how other people are managing the leap. Have they found their post-work community yet? What are the challenges and what are the positives?

Retirement Survey

To help me gather this information, I have developed a survey which you can complete here. The results will be published in this blog.

We’ll also be talking to a range of people who embody the before and after of retirement, so watch this space!

Coming Up

We hear from a retiree who found his new community at an Arts Festival with connections to Montreal. So what is he doing lurking beside the Upfield railway line at 2.00am in the morning? Read our next post to find out!