On the cusp of turning 80, obsessed with aging, I did what I've done throughout my life: I turned to writing. My Facebook page became a diary, documenting my plunge into 80-Land. To my surprise, I was flooded with supportive responses validating my dread and confusion. Invigorated, I wrote and published a piece in The Ethel: Overcoming the Dread of the Big 8-0.
Everything sailed along well enough until … I hit my next birthday and faced an unexpected hurdle — I failed to meet a writing deadline. My unfinished piece loomed, haunting me. I’d been writing for decades and had, of course, faced other moments of “writer’s block” but I’d always been able to reclaim my center.
But now? New worries loomed. Could my creative spark be permanently dimmed with age? Maybe I’d never be able to write again!
I knew a lot about “creativity resets,” but what exactly would work now? I renewed my Audible subscription and began taking long walks. I joined a new pickleball league, cleaned up my office and even experimented with cooking. Nothing helped.
Scrambling, I went to the Internet, and the vast cyberspace turned out to be my savior. Aimlessly scrolling, a name jumped out at me — author/editor Georgia Clark. And something clicked: I dashed off an email to her, and pushed “send.” As it turned out, we were a wonderful fit. Wrapping up the last of three successful editing sessions, Clark surprised me with an invitation:
“Would you like to perform at Generation Women?” she asked.
“What’s Generation Women?” I responded.
Inspired by her mother’s dread of the invisibility women face as we age, Clark created this magical event, Generation Women: a cross between a literary salon and a feminist campfire. It’s a multigenerational storytelling night held monthly at the iconic Joe’s Pub, a bar at Joe Papp’s Public Theater in lower Manhattan. Women and those who identify as non-binary in their 20s through 70s and beyond are invited to tell personal uplifting stories. The event sounded remarkable; the invitation, daunting. Did I really want to perform at a bar?
As a psychologist, I’d spent the past five decades sitting in my therapist’s chair, listening to patients while carefully maintaining a warm presence, which included appropriate boundaries and anonymity. This is the theoretical stance I’d learned in my doctorate training.
A therapist’s self-disclosure was clearly frowned upon — however, I’d recently published a memoir about my mother: The Girl in the Red Boots: Making Peace with My Mother. Still: naked on the page is one thing. Did I have the courage — or the desire — to be emotionally naked on the stage?
Clark’s next question sealed the deal.
“Would you like to represent Generation 80?” she asked. “It’s not easy to find people your age who are comfortable with public speaking and I know you’d be great on the stage. We really need to give voice to older women’s stories.”