Quantcast
4S Ranch Allied Gardens Alpine Baja Balboa Park Bankers Hill Barrio Logan Bay Ho Bay Park Black Mountain Ranch Blossom Valley Bonita Bonsall Borrego Springs Boulevard Campo Cardiff-by-the-Sea Carlsbad Carmel Mountain Carmel Valley Chollas View Chula Vista City College City Heights Clairemont College Area Coronado CSU San Marcos Cuyamaca College Del Cerro Del Mar Descanso Downtown San Diego Eastlake East Village El Cajon Emerald Hills Encanto Encinitas Escondido Fallbrook Fletcher Hills Golden Hill Grant Hill Grantville Grossmont College Guatay Harbor Island Hillcrest Imperial Beach Imperial Valley Jacumba Jamacha-Lomita Jamul Julian Kearny Mesa Kensington La Jolla Lakeside La Mesa Lemon Grove Leucadia Liberty Station Lincoln Acres Lincoln Park Linda Vista Little Italy Logan Heights Mesa College Midway District MiraCosta College Miramar Miramar College Mira Mesa Mission Beach Mission Hills Mission Valley Mountain View Mount Hope Mount Laguna National City Nestor Normal Heights North Park Oak Park Ocean Beach Oceanside Old Town Otay Mesa Pacific Beach Pala Palomar College Palomar Mountain Paradise Hills Pauma Valley Pine Valley Point Loma Point Loma Nazarene Potrero Poway Rainbow Ramona Rancho Bernardo Rancho Penasquitos Rancho San Diego Rancho Santa Fe Rolando San Carlos San Marcos San Onofre Santa Ysabel Santee San Ysidro Scripps Ranch SDSU Serra Mesa Shelltown Shelter Island Sherman Heights Skyline Solana Beach Sorrento Valley Southcrest South Park Southwestern College Spring Valley Stockton Talmadge Temecula Tierrasanta Tijuana UCSD University City University Heights USD Valencia Park Valley Center Vista Warner Springs

He says he will never retire

In San Diego, dreaming of what it was like to be young

“Above us, the cliffs loom. I can imagine the children’s delighted laughter as it bounces off the cliffs.”
“Above us, the cliffs loom. I can imagine the children’s delighted laughter as it bounces off the cliffs.”

Post Title: Phase Three

Post Date: December 6, 2014

We are in toasty San Diego and I am pleading. “This will be our Phase Three” — at least, I’m hoping that as I try to ease my husband into less work. He has already admonished me that he will never retire, and even when he is ready, he will still work six months a year. So there. Maybe it’s because the Whole Foods smoothie of açai, spinach, and mango isn’t quite working its breakfast magic. He makes a face and says it makes him feel sick — even when sitting on a glorious, sun-dappled patio.

But here we stand, researching condos in a place that is warm, where we can stroll along the beach at Torrey Pines, gawking at body surfers and delighting in small children as they run to the edge of the waves, dip their toes, and quickly retreat to the safety of the shores. Above us, the cliffs loom. I can imagine the children’s delighted laughter as it bounces off the cliffs.

That was Phase Two for us: the kids. Their growing up, their schooling, their move toward independence and their own families. Those years focused on their needs, stretching for a very long time.

Our first sabbatical in Europe was three months long so we could introduce them to art galleries, foods (even though the youngest ate only French fries and chocolate bars), castles, and culture, and so that they might use the French-immersion skills they had nicely gleaned at school. I remember how smoothly they launched into their second language and how haughtily the French shook their heads at us, the parents, when we dropped our cool and decided to interject our broken French into the conversation. Better to smile than to speak, we learned. And I recall our son miserably leaving his friends In Toronto, pitifully weeping; and how he cried again — bitterly — when he had to leave Paris and return home.

When one of our girls plunged into drama and the other to opera, our eyes were refreshed and we were allowed to see again as children. Saturdays we dragged ourselves from warm beds to wander St. Lawrence Market while the eldest took classes at Young People’s Theatre. No surprise, she became a writer. For the younger, still hooked on fries, it was chaperoning trips to Salt Spring Island in British Columbia for operatic productions of The Snow Queen. As I write this, it is as if I am looking through the wrong end of a telescope, observing my now-grownup children as once-small tikes in sunhats and sandals, consuming rijstoffle in Amsterdam, pizza in Montbuono, and freshly baked chocolate croissants in the Loire Valley. Later, it was which universities, which grad schools, which flowers for which weddings. Decisions, letting go, providing advice (most often ignored), being supportive, reflecting…

Phase Three, as I call it, resembles Phase One a bit: when we first started out together, more than 40 years ago. When we were young, perky, flirty, full of dreams for a life together, brazen and bold, daring, dipping our toes, retreating, going forward, unabashed.

With only $75 in the bank but a promise of a new job, we bought our first house. We flew at new adventures, never believing that one day we would move into this phase. As the Baby Boomer generation, we scoffed at old age. I would wear my hair in braids that swung down to my love beads; and he would continually, wistfully tap his pipe and engage in thought-provoking discourses as he charted a better world. We embraced it all, sailing away from the world we dismissed as being manageable and controllable.

Now, the pace is slower, more contemplative: our aches more, our optimism less strident. Life and its burdens could not help but weigh us down; our once-fierce optimism tempered by the eventualities of life’s numerous struggles and politics. Becoming wise at the cost of painful realizations, comprehending the ways of the world, sadly.

And now we stand here at the threshold of being refocused, of being able to re-invent ourselves, gather the sunshine lost during an oppressive winter. Maybe this is where old hippies come — not quite to Berkeley, but to San Diego, dreaming of what it was like to be young.

Title: Blogging Boomer | Author: Dr. Patricia Goldblatt | From: La Jolla | Blogging since: November 2013

Here's something you might be interested in.
Submit a free classified
or view all

Previous article

Reader writers' music picks, San Diego's history of punk, singer bred in TJ's Zona Norte

FM radio survey, local jazz greats, tribute to Mr. Lennon
Next Article

San Diego fishing life, dirty work, tools of the trade

The heady job of a waiter, nurses on the run, who brings you your candy
“Above us, the cliffs loom. I can imagine the children’s delighted laughter as it bounces off the cliffs.”
“Above us, the cliffs loom. I can imagine the children’s delighted laughter as it bounces off the cliffs.”

Post Title: Phase Three

Post Date: December 6, 2014

We are in toasty San Diego and I am pleading. “This will be our Phase Three” — at least, I’m hoping that as I try to ease my husband into less work. He has already admonished me that he will never retire, and even when he is ready, he will still work six months a year. So there. Maybe it’s because the Whole Foods smoothie of açai, spinach, and mango isn’t quite working its breakfast magic. He makes a face and says it makes him feel sick — even when sitting on a glorious, sun-dappled patio.

But here we stand, researching condos in a place that is warm, where we can stroll along the beach at Torrey Pines, gawking at body surfers and delighting in small children as they run to the edge of the waves, dip their toes, and quickly retreat to the safety of the shores. Above us, the cliffs loom. I can imagine the children’s delighted laughter as it bounces off the cliffs.

That was Phase Two for us: the kids. Their growing up, their schooling, their move toward independence and their own families. Those years focused on their needs, stretching for a very long time.

Our first sabbatical in Europe was three months long so we could introduce them to art galleries, foods (even though the youngest ate only French fries and chocolate bars), castles, and culture, and so that they might use the French-immersion skills they had nicely gleaned at school. I remember how smoothly they launched into their second language and how haughtily the French shook their heads at us, the parents, when we dropped our cool and decided to interject our broken French into the conversation. Better to smile than to speak, we learned. And I recall our son miserably leaving his friends In Toronto, pitifully weeping; and how he cried again — bitterly — when he had to leave Paris and return home.

When one of our girls plunged into drama and the other to opera, our eyes were refreshed and we were allowed to see again as children. Saturdays we dragged ourselves from warm beds to wander St. Lawrence Market while the eldest took classes at Young People’s Theatre. No surprise, she became a writer. For the younger, still hooked on fries, it was chaperoning trips to Salt Spring Island in British Columbia for operatic productions of The Snow Queen. As I write this, it is as if I am looking through the wrong end of a telescope, observing my now-grownup children as once-small tikes in sunhats and sandals, consuming rijstoffle in Amsterdam, pizza in Montbuono, and freshly baked chocolate croissants in the Loire Valley. Later, it was which universities, which grad schools, which flowers for which weddings. Decisions, letting go, providing advice (most often ignored), being supportive, reflecting…

Phase Three, as I call it, resembles Phase One a bit: when we first started out together, more than 40 years ago. When we were young, perky, flirty, full of dreams for a life together, brazen and bold, daring, dipping our toes, retreating, going forward, unabashed.

With only $75 in the bank but a promise of a new job, we bought our first house. We flew at new adventures, never believing that one day we would move into this phase. As the Baby Boomer generation, we scoffed at old age. I would wear my hair in braids that swung down to my love beads; and he would continually, wistfully tap his pipe and engage in thought-provoking discourses as he charted a better world. We embraced it all, sailing away from the world we dismissed as being manageable and controllable.

Now, the pace is slower, more contemplative: our aches more, our optimism less strident. Life and its burdens could not help but weigh us down; our once-fierce optimism tempered by the eventualities of life’s numerous struggles and politics. Becoming wise at the cost of painful realizations, comprehending the ways of the world, sadly.

And now we stand here at the threshold of being refocused, of being able to re-invent ourselves, gather the sunshine lost during an oppressive winter. Maybe this is where old hippies come — not quite to Berkeley, but to San Diego, dreaming of what it was like to be young.

Title: Blogging Boomer | Author: Dr. Patricia Goldblatt | From: La Jolla | Blogging since: November 2013

Sponsored
Here's something you might be interested in.
Submit a free classified
or view all
Previous article

Padres vs Il Padre

It’s hard to keep the faith when you’re losing your religion
Next Article

Polo G and Chief Keef, Hallo-Wine Fall Festival, Cinema Under the Stars: The Graduate

Events October 22-October 25, 2020
Comments
0

Be the first to leave a comment.

Sign in to comment

Sign in

Art Reviews — W.S. Di Piero's eye on exhibits Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed Best Buys — San Diego shopping Big Screen — Movie commentary Blurt — Music's inside track Booze News — San Diego spirits City Lights — News and politics Classical Music — Immortal beauty Classifieds — Free and easy Cover Stories — Front-page features Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts Famous Former Neighbors — Next-door celebs Feast! — Food & drink reviews Feature Stories — Local news & stories From the Archives — Spotlight on the past Golden Dreams — Talk of the town Here's the Deal — Chad Deal's watering holes Just Announced — The scoop on shows Letters — Our inbox [email protected] — Local movie buffs share favorites Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news News Ticker — News & politics Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated Of Note — Concert picks Out & About — What's Happening Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated Poetry — The old and the new Pour Over — Grab a cup Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers Reading — The hunt for intellectuals Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds SD on the QT — Almost factual news Set 'em Up Joe — Bartenders' drink recipes Sheep and Goats — Places of worship Special Issues — The best of Sports — Athletics without gush Street Style — San Diego streets have style Suit Up — Fashion tips for dudes Theater Reviews — Local productions Theater antireviews — Narrow your search Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads Waterfront — All things ocean Your Week — Daily event picks
4S Ranch Allied Gardens Alpine Baja Balboa Park Bankers Hill Barrio Logan Bay Ho Bay Park Black Mountain Ranch Blossom Valley Bonita Bonsall Borrego Springs Boulevard Campo Cardiff-by-the-Sea Carlsbad Carmel Mountain Carmel Valley Chollas View Chula Vista City College City Heights Clairemont College Area Coronado CSU San Marcos Cuyamaca College Del Cerro Del Mar Descanso Downtown San Diego Eastlake East Village El Cajon Emerald Hills Encanto Encinitas Escondido Fallbrook Fletcher Hills Golden Hill Grant Hill Grantville Grossmont College Guatay Harbor Island Hillcrest Imperial Beach Imperial Valley Jacumba Jamacha-Lomita Jamul Julian Kearny Mesa Kensington La Jolla Lakeside La Mesa Lemon Grove Leucadia Liberty Station Lincoln Acres Lincoln Park Linda Vista Little Italy Logan Heights Mesa College Midway District MiraCosta College Miramar Miramar College Mira Mesa Mission Beach Mission Hills Mission Valley Mountain View Mount Hope Mount Laguna National City Nestor Normal Heights North Park Oak Park Ocean Beach Oceanside Old Town Otay Mesa Pacific Beach Pala Palomar College Palomar Mountain Paradise Hills Pauma Valley Pine Valley Point Loma Point Loma Nazarene Potrero Poway Rainbow Ramona Rancho Bernardo Rancho Penasquitos Rancho San Diego Rancho Santa Fe Rolando San Carlos San Marcos San Onofre Santa Ysabel Santee San Ysidro Scripps Ranch SDSU Serra Mesa Shelltown Shelter Island Sherman Heights Skyline Solana Beach Sorrento Valley Southcrest South Park Southwestern College Spring Valley Stockton Talmadge Temecula Tierrasanta Tijuana UCSD University City University Heights USD Valencia Park Valley Center Vista Warner Springs
Close