So It’s New Year’s Eve – Must Say Something Meaningful

So It’s New Year’s Eve – Must Say Something Meaningful

How many New Year’s Eves has it been? I remember the year I said that I had no expectations of anything happening in the coming year. Funny, before the year was over, I was married. The one and only marriage I have ever had. While that may be a subject of future posts, it is not now. I felt obligated to do at least one post tonight, one more New Year’s Eve. How many more will there be?

All around me, folks are retiring. I am always asked when I will retire. My answer is always: retire to what? I learned of another colleague’s retirement tonight. Again, I ask: retire to what?

Travel? I have traveled more in the last three years than I have in my entire life. Grandchildren? Of course. But that is not a full-time occupation. What else? Needlepoint? OK. Not that there is anything wrong with that but is that it? Who says you cannot do needlepoint, photography or travel or, or, or? I intend to do it all.

This holiday weekend I moved into a new office. Does that sound like retirement? My new office is a launchpad for whatever I choose to be in the next year and the next few years. A home office just does not cut it. A home office, for me, is a variant on the retirement theme. I want to get dressed, interact with colleagues, and get out there. Retirement? I don’t think so. Gardening? Are you kidding me? I live in a dark, gloomy, sunless, always looking like it will rain during the winter part of the country. Gardening? I think not.

Writing? Of course! But what does one write about once one is retired? Gardening? Grandchildren? Needlepoint? See above. Writing means having something interesting to say. Call me judgmental, but I do think that if you are going to write, you need to live.

Mood Indigo Blues: From the Archives of Not Your Grandmother’s 70 – May 2017

Mood Indigo Blues: From the Archives of Not Your Grandmother’s 70 – May 2017

You ain’t never been blue; no, no, no

You ain’t never been blue,

Till you’ve had that mood indigo. 

That feelin’ goes stealin’ down to my shoes… 

You know what it is.  The pits, the gloomies, down in the dumps.  Rolled up in a ball on the bathroom floor.  In bed, covers over your head.  Or maybe you are the outdoor type, and you howl at the moon or scream into the wind.

Nothing in your life is right. Nothing will ever be right.  I call it my 3 am darkness of the soul. It doesn’t help to know that everyone goes through it sometimes.  You also will chew someone’s head off if they tell you platitudes like “It’s not that bad.” or “It will get better.”  That was not what you wanted to hear.  Not now, anyway.

I also like to refer to the book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible Very Bad Day, which Alexander keeps repeating after one more misadventure, “I think I’ll move to Australia.”  It ends with Alexander acknowledging: “Some days are like that, even in Australia.”  And they are.

There are books galore on how to get past this.  But right now, you really don’t want to.  You WANT to wallow.  You deserve to wallow.  We all do deserve some wallow time.  Never mind that EVERYONE on Facebook is having a WONDERFUL time.  Everyone is.  Really!

I  am not here to tell you what to do. I am not here to give you platitudes. I am merely here to tell you that it is ok.  It is ok to wallow, scream, sniff and cry.  Sometimes that is all there is.  When you are ready for more, you will find it.

In the meantime, get down with that feelin’ that goes stealin’ down to your shoes.  Some days are like that.  Even in  . . . .

Australia, or, or or.

What’s In A Name?

What’s In A Name?

I recently took a group tour abroad with what we politely call “mature” people. Most were couples, and something that stood out as unusual for such a group was that most women had different names than their husbands.

I commented to one of the women that I found this remarkable because “back in the day,” women changed their names when married. This is understandable in second (or third marriages), but several of these folks had been married forty years or more. This woman pointed out that the women I was referring to did not have advanced degrees. Is that it?
If you had an advanced degree, did you not change your name when you married? Hmm.

I married at the age of 20 back in the very dark ages, and it did not seem to even be an option. It would be “weird” to have a different name than your husband. After 22 years of marriage, I did think about a name change when I got divorced. It was much more common then. However, my name changed when I was adopted by my stepfather at age 8 and married at 20.

Therefore I had this “married” name for much longer than any other. So I kept my name. When my daughter married, it was not even a consideration. Of course, she kept her name. Why wouldn’t she? Thus my married daughter and I have the same name.

I once had a friend who changed her first name also when she got married because she wanted a less ethnic name. A few years later, she found that an ethnic name was helpful for specific employment purposes and changed it back. And this was a woman with an advanced degree.

I work with divorcing women and always discuss name changes with them. In my state, they get a free name change with a divorce. Men can as well, but rarely do. I point out that it can be something other than a name you have ever used. You can be Sunshine or Rainbow. I even met a woman who chose Newborn. By the way, I detest the term “maiden name.” What does that even mean? How old-fashioned. I use “former name.” Even though one can get a free name change with a divorce decree, changing your name on your passport, social security card, employer ID card, credit card, etc., is challenging. Seems hardly worth it.

This naming convention is only the norm in some countries. In some, the custom is to combine both names. For example, in Iceland, you cannot change your last name to your husbands, but you can change your middle name to his last name. Confusing. Any more confusing than what we do?

Some of my women clients are concerned that they won’t have the same name as their children. I point out that it is not unusual for children to have a different name than their mothers. I cite my own grandson. This raises the question, why does the American naming convention determine that children have their father’s name? There is no such requirement. Don’t get me started on hyphenated names. A whole new challenge.

Maybe both parties in a marriage should change their names to something else. Wouldn’t the family tree researchers have fun with that?

So what has been your experience with name changes? Do you have some cultural norms? Do you wish you had done it differently?

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Karin Quirk