Always a Question of Time
By Anne Marszalek, Maybeck teacher 1980–2019
For decades, the school’s daily schedule and yearly calendar provided a structure for my life, a clear map for navigating time. More often than not, time eluded me, and like most of us, I found myself wishing for more. Back then, time seemed impervious no matter how much I tried to stretch or “organize” it. When I first stopped teaching, the thought of this unlimited expanse of completely free time almost made me dizzy. Quite a bit of that first summer went into planning my husband’s and my European extended fall vacation, an enhanced stretch of time spent in the Balkans, Venice, and France. Traveling had been very high on my retirement agenda, but those were pre-pandemic dreams. Since then, we’ve remained on this continent, and our trips have required shorter flights to more reachable, if still wonderful, discoveries. Soon, though, I hope to be on my way to Europe again…
Finding myself more housebound than I had expected, I turned to… home improvement. I left the execution to skilled and nimble people but took on most of the research and planning: so many options every step of the way, so many hours spent weighing pros and cons or considering aesthetic choices… almost overwhelming at times! It was a crash course in the building arts. Although new projects are not hard to find with a house over 100 years old, the garden was next on the list. I’ve been defeated in my attempt at growing fruit trees by assorted pests… and have grown tired of only getting their leftovers; I even entertained murderous thoughts about squirrels. In any case, it seemed right to start again with all native plants. I can’t claim that I love gardening, although I enjoy puttering around in the garden when my body lets me. What I do love is the results when they’re successful, and mine are definitely mixed. Gardens, both grand and intimate, designed and maintained by knowledgeable minds and hands, are wonderlands. So, while I help select plants, learning a whole new vocabulary of plant names, I’m letting experts work their magic and will sit back to admire the more guaranteed result.
As for hobbies, I’ve held on to some (photography, mosaics) and let go of others. But retirement has offered me the highest form of luxury: unlimited time for reading, with some writing on the side. And I have lovely friends in my book group with whom to discuss some of those readings. I watch a lot of movies, too. Obviously, I couldn’t think of a better place to volunteer than the library. And I’m afraid I’ve become somewhat of an armchair activist. But one of the most enjoyable parts of retirement for me is that it allows for spontaneity, something I’ve always strived to maintain in my life: a spur-of-the-moment outing, a hike, a ride into the wilderness, a walk with a friend.
That said, retirement time has acquired an elasticity that sometimes mystifies me: it seems life slows down, but time accelerates. Not counting the hours spent trying to pry elusive answers from unresponsive bureaucracies or on indispensable body maintenance, my time is all mine, and the concept of free time has lost its meaning. But I am just as eager to use it wisely, not to squander such a gift, and I try to end each day with a sense of accomplishment. According to a friend of mine, the ideal number is three accomplishments, but I do my best…
Anne Marszalek (February 2024)