Mini count down to 70: #4
by tamarjacobson
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.



You wrote about a loss of your youth. And yet, in this last year at 71, I am finally able to reconnect with my youth and take on challenges that I set aside because I had to “get on with my life.” What a joy to have nothing to lose at this point in life and everything to gain. I even started writing with a fountain pen again – something I enjoyed in high school. I am surprised to find myself reconnecting with the heart of who I was before I had to “grow up.” I wish the same joy for you.
Thanks for your comment, Betsy. I love that line too! Fills me with hope and joy to be surrounded by such wise and compassionate colleagues and friends.
I so love this line: “the interconnectedness of all human efforts for good.”
What you don’t know yet is all the open doors you can walk through. It will be far more interesting than you imagine.