tamarjacobson

What a month this has been. Reflecting, celebrating, donating, walking, crocheting, singing, exercising, talking, gardening, writing, laughing, crying, eating all kinds of great food – all the while retiring and turning 70. And throughout each day, family and friends far and wide have accompanied me with love, support, and sharing of great wisdoms.

This morning I awake after a crescendo of a birthday yesterday, beginning bright and early with cake, cards, candles and gifts in bed early in the morning, lovingly brought to me by my husband. His card for me was all about “courage,” appreciating the courage for becoming who I am today. It moved me to my core. 

This morning I am full to the brim of joy, gratitude, and enormous appreciation for the abundance of love that has been showered on me. 

It happened, folks! I turned 70! I allowed myself to feel the full extent of all the emotions that went with each and every moment. Indeed, as I have officially become a septuagenarian, I believe more and more in the power of now, and am looking forward to this next stage of development with hope and acceptance.

As we exited the hotel on our way to dinner last night, I exclaimed, “Wow, I am 70 today!” My daughter-in-law laughed and said, “You don’t have to say it out loud!” I responded, “Why not, sweetheart, I worked hard to get here.” My son nodded quietly in agreement, and my heart was full to overflowing to be sharing it with the both of them.

Learning from my elders

This morning I received a comment to yesterday's blog post. It was from a colleague, who I am more than grateful to acknowledge has become a friend. She wrote:

I remember having similar feelings more than a decade ago. I still had some opportunities to help teachers during my seventies but they became fewer. I came to realise that I had done my bit, contributed my 2 cents worth, and encouraged younger colleagues to keep up the good work and develop their ideas and their work to carry on mine along the way. Each generation must be succeeded by the next. It was my time to step down graciously. I no longer shed tears at cruelty, I no longer wish I had longer to work. I have come to recognise the finite nature of all individual human endeavour and yet, at the same time, the interconnectedness of all human efforts for good. There will be opportunities for others to pick up the thread where you left off, they will be just as dedicated. And for sure, they will be influenced and heartened by the work that you achieved before them.

Sylvia Chard (The Project Approach)

I was encouraged and strengthened by what can only be described as words of wisdom. For after I had written my piece yesterday, I had a melancholy day. I felt sad realizing that this is it – becoming seventy and retired is a loss of my youth and past forever. Writing about my reflections and emotions these past few days, have helped me face the reality of entering this phase of life, and one of the feelings along with excitement and anxiety is loss. Yesterday I ruminated that on Friday the 24th of May even as I will celebrate with darling family in my beloved New York City, that feeling of loss would inevitably accompany me. 

And then, early this morning, Sylvia's words arrived and bolstered my heart and soul, reminding me that "each generation  must be succeeded by the next." So true, humbling me and helping me to let go in peace. Reminding me of all the times, all my life, that I have learned from people older and wiser than me. The list of people I could thank is endless, and in the past I mentioned many of them in the acknowledgements of the three books I authored. Both my sisters have taught me all the basic essentials of becoming a woman, being healthy and strong, and how to always be supportive of our children. I remember attending my first early childhood conference in Israel in 1987, listening to leaders in our field, and learning that a whole, new world could be opened up for me, which directly influenced my decision to immigrate to America and return to college for my doctorate. From people older than me, I have learned to find my voice, and time and time again, their words of wisdom have graciously given light and hope for the future.

So, this morning, I am looking forward feeling blessed, and filled with light and love from all my friends these past few weeks, who have lunched, walked, and breakfasted with me. I turn and look at a large poster I have on my wall next to me as I write. I bought it over a decade ago from the Syracuse Cultural Workers. It reads:

And she is going to dance, dance hungry, dance full, dance each cold astonishing moment, now when she is young and again when she is old.

Legacy

It probably is too early to be thinking about one's legacy. But as I inch closer to the age of 70, and since I am retiring at the end of June, I have been wondering what, if anything I have contributed to my professional field. At the same time, I think about what I can do going forward without formal employment. I wrote a bit about that in one of my recent blog posts. I am truly concerned about how young children are being treated in early childhood settings and programs. Yesterday, I was running to my car in a hurry to meet a friend for a walk, when a line of about five young children walked by me with their two teachers. The children were very small, I figured about 16 months or so, and were each holding onto a ring attached to a strap. One or two were stumbling a little as they walked, so I guessed they were new to walking. At the back, the smallest one was crying bitterly, gasping sobs. The teachers were talking to each other almost as if the children weren't there, and not once did they turn to look or bend down to relate to the sobbing child. I stood and watched for about two minutes hoping that if they saw me they might stop and attend to her. But they didn't notice me either. So, finally, I walked up to them and greeted them with a smile. "Lovely day, isn't it?" I said hoping to interrupt their conversation. "Yes," one retorted grumpily. I asked where they were from and they pointed to the building where they work. "Have a nice day!" I said and continued toward my car. As I looked back, the child was still sobbing, and the teachers returned to their conversation with each other.

I assume that they believe the child will receive too much positive reinforcement if they pick her up when she is crying. After all, they probably think, she needs to self-regulate and learn how to deal with life. After all: You get what you get and shouldn't get upset! And who knows, probably this is the way that these woman were treated when they were young children themselves, and they are only passing on what they learned, thinking that it worked for them. But I wonder how a young toddler learns self-regulation without compassion and relationship. I wonder about that a lot. Have even written two books about it. I think that mostly she learns that the world is harsh and uncaring, and she has to go it alone, and repress her feelings when she is distressed, tired, afraid, angry – whatever. 

My heart was breaking as I drove off to meet my friend. I shed a few tears for that little girl. Or perhaps my tears were for when I was a little girl. Once again I realize that I still have so much work to do. Perhaps write another book? But will anyone read it? Or offer my services for professional development wherever people with young children need me. But how do I get my name out there? And when I die? I think about that as I get older. Who will remember this important work? Young children grow into future citizens of the world. Will they learn that the world is a harsh, repressive place, or will they understand that love and relationships, guidance and support is what will protect and bind us together as a human race? 

I want children to learn compassion and empathy, from compassionate and empathic adults. So, what can I say? I have still so much more work to do, and every moment has become ever more precious – even urgent as I forge forward.

Journey to the unknown

Thirty one years ago I immigrated to America to take myself back to school. It was a journey into the unknown: new country, new continent, new academia, new cultures. Planning, packing, traveling, arriving were all filled back and forth with both parts of excitement and anxiety, even trepidation. Nervous knots in the stomach, and at times difficulty breathing with exhilaration. I had no idea what was in store.

This morning when I awoke, I sensed those same emotions, as I think of turning 70 on Friday. In a way, I have been packing and preparing for this stage all my life.

I have a friend who says that "Turning 70 only takes a day, and then the next day we return to being who we are, and it's all over." And, of course, I understand what she means. And true it is. Nothing changes just by having a birthday. And yet … birthdays do represent milestones along the developmental stages, and turning 70 means entering the phase of elder years. The body and mind changes in significant ways whether we like it or not. Just part of being human – just as at every level we feel changes in maturation. While I have accompanied many people as they became older especially and including my father, who was 55 when I was born, and I have observed first hand how we develop into older age, I have never experienced it myself.

Hence: a journey into the unknown for me. Certainly there is some trepidation about physical changes, including at times a lack of energy just when I seem to need it the most. But, mostly, I feel excited. I no longer need acknowledgement and validation as much as I used to. What a release of emotional pressure that is. I enjoy learning new things almost like a child – it feels fresh and invigorating not to know it all. And, finally, I have always loved a good journey with new friendships and different cultures. 

As I have been phasing into retirement these past three years, I have been welcomed by a warm, loving and supportive community, and have made some really good friends. Life has been enhanced in ways I could not have imagined even five years ago. These past few weeks many of them have been celebrating with me making this an entire birthday month. So, going forward, I feel sure I won't be journeying alone. 

Patience

This morning a bouquet of flowers greeted me as I wandered around my garden to see what was new. I thought to myself, "What a great time to be turning 70." In four days' time, actually. It is an exciting season to be sure. Flowers everywhere, birds singing – an awakening and rebirth of nature all around. These past few weeks I have overcome some of my fears about the unknown journey ahead – getting older. Instead of regret, I am sensing a type of excitement about making connections with my past in ways that open up new emotional opportunities for the future. Self awareness becomes clearer, and I am discovering that it is a brand new developmental stage to be explored. 

Over the weekend, I attended a baseball game, and as I was standing in line to buy some water, a group of men and women were chatting excitedly in front of me. One of the women wore a cape that had the name of the baseball team toward the bottom. At the top of the cape it read: It's my birthday! Her friends were wishing her well and telling her not to fret: "Thirty is the best time of your life!" They exclaimed. I smiled to myself thinking, "Wow! I am forty years older than her, and I feel as if 70 is the best time of my life. How lucky I am." 

With older age, I find myself more patient than ever before. I enjoy time alone as never before. And, I don't feel the need to talk so much. Just the opposite: I enjoy listening and observing. I am relearning how to crotchet, and learning how to read the Torah. Both these skills take patience, and I find myself happily repeating and relearning every crotchet stitch, or each note for the sweet and cleverly complex Torah melodies. 

So, as I count down to turning 70 and entering the silver years for real, I gather up colors and scents of flowers all around, and patiently hold still to enjoy every moment with each one.