Sense of Purpose

I have a dear friend who has been around for almost forty years. She probably doesn’t remember that when we first met she had just gotten a divorce, was starting a new job and was pondering her next step in life. We both worked at KTCA, the local public television station in town. Over time, she got remarried, had a beautiful daughter and rose in the ranks of fund-raising at the station. When I left in 1993, she was the only person I kept in contact with afterwards.

While I focused on my video production business and real estate investments, she continued growing in her career at the station. We would have lunch every couple of months and talk ‘station talk,’ and events in our lives. She became my sounding board for all things political, female and personal growth. A part of every conversation always seemed to end with ‘what to do when we would eventually retire.’ Like I said, we had a lot of history together.

I retired first and morphed into writing on a full time basis. Elise retired several years later, moved to Arizona and began her own ‘new’ career in the beauty business. Elise has long felt that older women are given the short shift when it comes to beauty tips. As always, the industry has focused on a younger audience and filled its advertisements with rail thin waifs who don’t look like anyone we might meet on the street. Elise felt there was a vastly under-served market she would like to reach with her beauty tips.

She was right and she has been very well received by that demographic. I’m guessing their husbands, partners and significant others aren’t complaining either. It’s been fun to watch Elise grow in her new career.

http://emjahns.wixsite.com/mysite

Of course, there were plenty of stumbles along the way as she grew her new business. She started with part-time work with Clinic, gave classes in community education, made lots of contacts and kept trying to find her niche where her talents met the needs of her clients. She had to learn how to build her own web site, create YouTube videos and online classes. It was hard and difficult and always challenging. But she had a secret that kept her going. Distilled down to its essential elements, she had a ‘sense of purpose’ and a reason to keep plugging along.

I’ve seen that same ‘sense of purpose’ in other friends who have found a whole new life after a lifetime of ‘working.’ Charlotte was a fellow teacher at Sharon’s college, who upon retirement has expanded her talent on stage and screen.

She’s been heavily involved with the local Twin Cities Film Festival  www.twincitiesfilmfest.org for a long time and acted in both plays and movies for many years. She was one of the founding members of both the Rosemount Area Arts Council (RAAC) and the Second Act Players (SAP) and serves on both boards.

She was my lead actress in my first two plays ‘Riot at Sage Corner’ and ‘Club 210.’ This summer she not only acted in my third play at the Steeple Center ‘The Last Sentinel’ she was also my director. Now she’s advising me on another venture of writing my first musical.

As Charlotte told me a long time ago:  “I taught to pay the bills and acted to feed my soul.” I got it. She had that sense of purpose long before she acted in her first play, choreographed her first dance, and directed her first play.

The common denominator with these two women is their sense of purpose. It’s their reason for getting out of bed each morning and facing many hours of hard labor with no guarantee of remuneration other than the knowledge that they are doing exactly what they want to do with the rest of their lives.

I have a casual coffee acquaintance whose specialty is rebuilding old Jaguar sports cars and racing them at the local track. Another coastal acquaintance teaches writing classes, edits newsletters for several senior groups he’s involved with and used to sing barbershop harmony in his spare time.

A fellow writer of mine started the Anchorage Writers Guild, regularly does author signings at Barnes and Noble, and is program chair for the Palm Springs Writers Guild. Another retired teacher like Sharon gives investment advice and has written two books on investing in retirement. His focus has been on fellow teachers.

All of these folks and plenty more that I know have shaken off the shackles of retirement and rejected the old axiom that now is the time to slow down and take it easy. They’ve found a sense of purpose, a new reason for being and a rejection of the traditional model for retirement. I’m guessing they don’t give a rat’s derriere what others of their tribe think of their daily activities. They’re doing what they want to do, how they want to do it and having a great, sometimes tough time doing it. Their sense of purpose is the only motivator they need.

Do yourself a favor and check out my friend Elise’s website. It’s called Boomer and Beauty with a focus on the beauty of older women. It’s a niche market to be sure but one that has a lot of interested participants.  The link to her website is http://emjahns.wixsite.com/mysite

Hawaiian Holiday

The island of Kauai is the furthest of the Hawaiian island chain from the U.S. mainland and one of the most tropical. It is also the oldest of the main Hawaiian Islands.

With an area of 562 square miles, it is the fourth largest of these islands and the 21st largest island in the United States. Known as the “Garden Isle”, Kauai lies 105 miles northwest of Oahu. It is less populated and less touristy than many of the other Hawaiian Islands.

There is only one main road that circles most of the island. Traffic jams in the more populated parts of the island are legendary. It’s a different life style, a different culture and very expensive. Not to identify myself as one with Midwestern tastes BUT… When my son and I went out for coffee at a nearby resort (upscale I will admit) he had a medium chai, I had a coffee and we had two pastries. Total bill $28.95 and she was expecting a tip for pressing the spout button.

The trip came as a surprise invitation from our son and daughter-in-law to stay with them for a week in Hawaii.

They had rented a home on the North Shore of the island so Maya, our eldest granddaughter, could earn her diving certificate and be able to scuba dive anywhere in the world.

We arrived early and stayed at the Hilton Garden Inn for several days.

The hotel / resort was situated by a wonderful inlet. Protected by huge boulders, it provided the perfect spot to wade and wonder about the beauty surrounding us.

The beaches on the north end of the island were more protected from the strong waves and sometimes treacherous Pacific currents. We went beach combing with the twins while Brian, Maya and their instructor dove deep off shore. A monk seal shimmied on shore and did some sun bathing. But we were distracted by the incredibly lush green mountainsides that spilled out into the blue turquoise ocean.

Of course, we had to find the local craft beer pub in town

Family time was relaxed. There was plenty of time card games, coloring for adults, pool time and hustling pool.

The obligatory luau didn’t disappoint and entertained the kids.

Cliffside dining at a fancy restaurant came with a double rainbow which we were told was almost a daily occurrence.

Waimea Canyon (the Grand Canyon of the Pacific) on the south end of the island is famous for its spectacular views. It didn’t disappoint.

Aloha... until we see you again.

A Hard Knock Life

In 1948, she built her home on Randolph Avenue for a total of eight thousand dollars in labor and materials. Her bachelor brother came down from the farm to work on the house during the day. She joined him at night until it got too dark to see what they were doing. My sister and I played among the lumber and piles of dirt in the backyard as far as I can remember.

It was a good solid house that raised a family of three, gave me a place to call home and my Mother a symbol of her hard work and perseverance. All of it earned with a sixth grade education and the salary of a short order cook. For all of her shortcomings, my Mother was one hell of a hard worker.

Today the same home is on the market for $285,000. Go figure. It’s considered a starter home in the tony Highland Village neighborhood. My Mother would be amazed and amused. Mostly, she would feel vindicated and (if allowed by her staunch Catholic faith) a great deal of pride in what she had accomplished.

Reflecting back on that period in my life, I can see now that my Mother had a hard-knock life. She was raised on a farm outside of St. Cloud, Minnesota in a family of twelve. She adored her father but with too many kids to raise and a farm to run, he had little time for the youngest of his brood. There was jealousy and animosity among the sisters; who knows why. That discord among Mom and her siblings continued throughout my youth.

Put in proper perspective, my Mother was raised rural, German, and Catholic. Back then that said it all. She was undemonstrative in love and affection but had a tremendous work ethic. She sincerely believed that to praise a child was to spoil them and pride was a sin to be avoided at all costs. I wasn’t about to abandon my mother but I clearly remember mentally divorcing all of my relatives when I was in Eighth Grade. Years later, writing my first novel ‘Love in the A Shau’ was a cathartic exercise in purging those memories through my protagonist, Daniel.

Hers was a dysfunctional upbringing that she managed to survive and move on past. She clung to her Catholic faith even when her Lord kept kicking her around with a failed marriage, failed business, unsupportive sisters, disinterested brothers and enough drinking to go around for everyone. It was probably the norm of the day but hardly conducive to a solid groundwork for success in life.

Never the less, my Mother made sure her two kids got a good Catholic education then looked the other way when they let their faith shift and change into the self-directed colors and tones of their generation.

Her quirks were legendary.

A pet cottontail rabbit was a member of the family for over 10 years. Nosey had the run of the house, a comfy sofa to lie on, a window to watch the world go by, and a litter box in the basement.

For close to fifty years running, my Mother attended novena every Monday afternoon at St. Louis Catholic Church in downtown Saint Paul. It was Mass every Sunday no matter what the weather. There was a shrine to the Blessed Virgin Mary in our backyard but not one damn book in the house for the twenty-one years I lived there.

A priority in her life was the love of dancing at least two or three times a week for over 20 years. The polka was her favorite. Her coffee was made and ready to go at least 23 hours in advance. She religiously put labels on all appliances indicating date of installation, repairs, etc.

She found love at an old age and made it work and it was good.

My Mother couldn’t love my sister and me the way other Mothers loved their kids. But I guess in the end her work ethic was a powerful lesson in drive and desire for more. It was a hunger she had all her life and one that drives me on to this day.

Learning the love and affection part of life came slowly to me but I’ve managed to pass it on to my family and my grandkids.

That circle has been broken.