The active and creative years after retirement

Ever since our ruby, golden and diamond anniversaries, my St. Scholastica high school classmates from California and New York would frequently attend our yearly reunions in Manila. After doing graduate work in nutrition, social work, accounting or education, they got employed in private and government offices and got married. Like me, their children are all professionals and have their own families.

I am especially fond of Esmirna “Minnie” Lopez, my neighbor from Singalong and veil sponsor in my wedding. Max and I met her and her husband “my alipin” (slave) Jim Martin in New York where they worked as social workers. Minnie would refer to our class of ’53 as the “glamorous seventies” since we continue to be active beyond our retirement years, some mentoring young professionals.

The secret fountain of youth

Visiting the Martins in their lovely two-story house in Santa Barbara, California, I discovered their secret “fountain of youth.”

Unique conversation, pieces of very fine animal sculpture in paper mache (kangaroo, buffalo, rhino and hippo), oil painting of Nate and Luke, their grand children and floral photographs by Minnie are well placed everywhere. These art works are products of weekly art sessions in the Santa Barbara City College and Ventura Adult Continuing Education Center.

Their friendliness have endeared them to the whole block where they initiated regular street barbecue parties to get better acquainted.

After Easter this year, I joined their Art Studio class led by Judy Klement, a well known oil painter. There were about 12 very friendly colleagues of Jim all focused on a variety of paintings like the fine water color floral composition by Charles and Minnie Millet who sat near Mary Ann Laughlin finishing a landscape picture in acrylic. Sheila Rangere with a huge box of pastels (92 shades), was doing the finishing touch to her drawing of the Santa Barbara woodlands. Jim says her works often win awards. Their creative vibration infected me so I let Judy teach me how to do a pastel portrait of Our Lady of Liberty photographed in our school chapel. I enjoyed it so much so I bought plenty of art paraphernalia.

Continuing education for everyone

The local governments in Scandinavian countries and in America have been very successful in providing creative and self-earning activities for the senior citizens. The Santa Barbara City College Continuing Education offer non-credit and community service classes and Adult High School Program running from three to 16 weeks costing from $10 to $25. Hundreds of daytime, evening and weekend classes are offered in fall, winter, spring and summer and serve approximately 50,000 people each year.

Classes offered: Adult High School, Languages, Fitness for Seniors, Art (Beginning drawing and Oil painting, Portrait drawing), Landscaping, Cooking for Beginners, Calligraphy and General Crafts (Flower Arranging and Picture Framing), Recollection and Writing, Choral and Vocal Singing, Business and Career Skills, Computer Literacy.

Preserving the past

Minnie Martin, a History major has been attending the Ventura Adult Continuing Education / Lifelong Learning for the past 16 years. I sat down in this class at Cypress Point Senior Residence. The Creative Writing Teacher Janeva Scharf gave us the topic of “The Corner Store.” She and Jim have put together four books of their personal memoirs. In December 2009, she and her “schoolmates” put together a compilation of their best literary pieces entitled “Preserving Your Past”.

Kathryn Linfield Abbott in Warm Summer Nights wrote: At age five, I visited my Aunt Ruth and Uncle Leslie “Tubby” Coleman on their 150-acre ranch in Pixley in California’s San Joaquin Valley. Life on the ranch was a city kid’s paradise where I watched chicken and pigs being fed and the cows milked. A whole new world opened up for me where I feasted on watermelon, played on hay bales and investigated irrigation ditches.

After dinner, the family sat on the back porch talking together. They were big, strong, handsome people, well-built for farming, and their voices blended into the shadowy backdrop of the evening. Locusts held an incessant chorus against the crickets’ constant shrill, but I had to be careful of hidden stickers like clover burrs or those hideous three-pronged ‘Goat Heads’ that attached themselves and hurt my foot. My skin became a coat of pink polka dots that summer because of mosquitoes. An all-day family peach-picking expedition resulted in a stinging red rash all over my legs and torso. The remedy was an alcohol bath which made it sting even more.

The box

John E. Callahan wrote: My father had quietly slipped away in the little house where he and my mother lived just next door. There was a great sense of loss and at the same time relief that his suffering was over.

As the family was picking out a casket, one of my siblings said, “This is exorbitant. Dad would be upset if we spent this kind of money on something that is going to end up in the ground.”

My youngest brother Kevin suggested that we build our own casket and Mom agreed. My sister Maura hand picked and purchased the rich-grained pine boards.

Dad had taught us well. All of us were very handy fellows with the tools. With the help of my brothers, Terry and Jim, we proceeded to make our father’s coffin. By mid-afternoon, all hands were busy – measuring, sawing, holding in place, drilling and setting the bronze screws. Mom said that it was like watching an exquisitely choreographed dance.

At times, we would be overcome by the moment and eyes would fill with tears. This would evolve into a great group hug, then fond memories would arise, amusing anecdotes, and laughter to relive the sadness.

My wife and three sisters-in-law lined the box in satin and a small satin pillow was placed for Dad’s head. It was truly beautiful.

As Dad was a veteran, we originally planned to drape the coffin with an American flag, but seeing the quality of our work, the owner of the mortuary insisted that people should be able to see the fruits of our loving labor.

Mother taught us how to build memories

Charlene Cocke wrote: I was always interested in the kitchen duties of our neighbor, Mrs. Bowers. The biscuits she mixed by hand in a crockery bowl, and placed carefully in a cast iron skillet to bake, always came out perfectly. She first had to stoke the wood stove with coals or wood and kindling. Next she would light a fire and wait for the oven to reach a just-right temperature. With no thermometer, she somehow just knew when it was ready for cooking. To me she was mysterious and perfect, the only person in my world who dipped snuff.

On a field trip to her farm, I was allowed to help gather eggs. I was particularly impressed by her process of cleaning the eggs. Then, she would hold them in front of a bright light to determine if they were good. Dark spots would mean that the eggs were too old. She carefully placed the good ones in cardboard containers to sell in the market.

I don’t think I thanked my mother enough for giving me this early opportunity to learn the lessons I gleaned from observing these kind and welcoming friends. I do recall Mother telling us children often that we were building memories. She did help me garner some sad ones, but many more great ones.

The creative years of senior citizens should be nurtured

The years after retirement should be spent on the seniors leaving a legacy to the family and community. If our leaders cultivate the writing of memoirs and enhancement of their rich artistic skills our elderly will provide the sparkle and spiritual upliftment which local communities lack.