It’s never too late to keep bees, build a sailboat or become an artist
Diana Dickinson, Portland, Ore.
I was a literature major in college, but did poorly in poetry and ignored it all of my adult years. Just before the pandemic, I asked to tag along to a friend’s poetry group and immediately became hooked. Together, we’ve explored both traditional and modern poetry and come to love and feel at home in a variety of forms. Meeting online during the pandemic kept us all from being bored at home; now we meet in each other’s homes biweekly to spend two hours immersed in a new poet or style. This practice has constantly challenged our knowledge of history, literature, geography, science — you name it. And of course, we’ve all become close friends. Today I count poetry, along with the group that brought me to it, as one of the chief joys of my retirement years.
Jean Thayer, Arvada, Colo.
I’ve been a sailor most of my life, first on my father’s boats and later with power boats for my own kids. A few years back, I bought a classic cruising sailboat to use near our home on Buzzards Bay in Massachusetts. The bay isn’t known for calm water and is often a challenge in the afternoon. I hoped my wife would come to share my enthusiasm, but when that didn’t happen, I sailed solo for several years.
When you are sailing solo far from shore, one minor mistake can put you in serious hot water, which wouldn’t necessarily happen if there were a second set of hands on board, as my wife started to remind me around my 75th birthday. A fork was starting to appear in the road ahead.
I’m a pretty good carpenter, and wooden boats always held interest. I attended several classes at the WoodenBoat School in Maine and started to feel a major pull toward building. As I write this, a new 17-foot sailboat is under construction in my garage, and the cruiser’s new owners are hopefully making the same discoveries that delighted me a few years ago. My wife is relieved, despite the sawdust on her car. And I am using a new set of skills that otherwise would have gone to waste.
Rob Hill, Westport, Mass.
After my husband died about 10 years ago, I needed to do something that would occupy my mind and thoughts. So I started singing. I joined a local chorus and realized that most of the chorus members had sung in church or with other choruses. I had never sung with any group and needed help. I found a wonderful voice teacher, who has become my coach, cheerleader and wonderful friend.
But every year, she has required her students to do solos in front of a small group. This has terrified me for 10 years, but I am slowly becoming more confident, even though I always feel that I mess up.
Now I belong to two choruses, including a wonderful gospel group. I volunteer weekly to sing with a small group for dementia patients. They are so appreciative and nonjudgmental. Singing wonderful music has been challenging and stressful, but it has really enriched my life. Am I Barbra Streisand? No, but I am making progress!
Janet Feder, Mundelein, Ill.
I have made a career in music, as a musicologist, but only late in life turned to the instrument I have always loved, the flute. I was too afraid that sounding like a beginner would damage my credibility as a writer of music.
Finally, I took the plunge, and it has been both satisfying and humbling. Learning a new skill at my age is not the same as learning it as a child or young adult. After declining to play in a couple of recitals, I finally played for the first time in a recital in front of my colleagues, friends and students. Was I crazy exposing myself like that? The flute demands not only coordinated finger work but also great breath control and a loose throat, none of which my nerves allowed. Somehow I got through the piece, the Sarabande from Bach’s Partita in A Minor. I was disappointed and elated. I did not sound like I wanted to, but most important, I did it. And my friends, colleagues and students were all too kind; they were with me and supportive.
I continue to study. Will I ever get where I want to be? The pace is glacial, another product of starting late. But while it does remind you of the reality of your age, the slow progress and small victories also remind you that challenges can be overcome regardless of how old you are.
Michael Broyles, Tallahassee
As a freshman at City College of San Francisco in 1947, I signed up for architecture, interior decorating and art classes. During my first art class, which involved sketching furniture, the teacher told me to drop out and take a simpler class. I was embarrassed, to say the least. Later, my mother-in-law was an artist, followed by my two daughters, and I was intimidated to even think I could learn to paint a straight line.
But now, at age 94, I have become a true artist! A local art teacher is giving acrylic painting classes once a month, and I started eight months ago. I was so excited with the results of my first piece. My family provided me with supplies to paint for months. My second bedroom is now my studio.
Beverly A. Moglich, Bend, Ore.
When I was growing up in the late ’60s and early ’70s, my parents allowed me one after-school activity. I wanted to play the piano. But I did want to learn to paint, too. I loved going to art museums to gaze at the masterpieces by Claude Monet, Vincent van Gogh and Camille Pissarro, among others.
Time passed, and I was raising a family and working. There was little time for myself. Now that I am retired, I decided to take a big jump and learn to paint. I found a class at my local community college, and I signed up. I was incredibly apprehensive. Was this a class for a beginner? Did I need some background knowledge? Would I be able to do this? Before the class began, I emailed the instructor, and she told me not to worry. As it turns out, my new hobby is bringing out my creativity. Plus, I find it calming. Best of all, I am having fun. I met lovely fellow artists, and I am learning from them, too. I will never become a great painter, but I’m having a blast trying!
Theresa Wiecezak, New Hyde Park, N.Y.
I’m a social worker and former singer, and I’ve always wanted to play the piano like a concert pianist. However, I live with learning disabilities, and one of them, unfortunately, is that my left hand and my right hand don’t like each other. I’ve tried piano lessons various times in my life but only met with disappointment, failure and shame. As one piano teacher said to me, “You have such long fingers. Too bad you can’t play piano.”
However, as an octogenarian, I found a piano teacher who can deal with my obstacles. I, like David Bonior, was in a piano recital with a bunch of children who played much better than I did. But people can be nice to old ladies, and I was received with warmth by a gracious audience. I guess exposing one’s frailties in the right context can have some benefits.
Myrna Orenstein, Evanston, Ill.
I’ve been an active musician since high school, playing saxophones, flute and clarinet. My favorite setting is the jazz ensemble, and I currently play baritone sax in a local group. As I approached retirement in my government contractor job, I knew music would play an even larger role in my life.
At age 62, I studied a textbook on jazz ensemble arranging and started writing “charts.” Finally, I could stop complaining about deficiencies in other people’s charts and start writing my own, based on decades of experience. I’m now 69 and retired and have written nearly 30 charts, most of which have been published and performed. My lifetime goal is at least 100 charts. One of the beneficial side effects is that the mental discipline of writing music makes me a better player on all of my instruments. As legendary cellist Pablo Casals is said to have remarked when asked why he still practiced daily at age 80: I think I’m making progress.
James Vedda, Alexandria