I’ve been thinking a lot about Mom’s retirement these past few months. It’s been hard not to as we’ve been doing the things that people our age do when this chapter of life arrives. You review your portfolio, you complete your transition to Social Security and Medicare, you update your will, your Advance Living Directive, and carefully review your estate planning. You engage in lots of decluttering and you look to simplify as many things in your life as you can.
And as you go through each of those important things, you find yourself harking back to that great Thornton Wilder classic called “Our Town” when one of the characters says “You know how it is: you’re twenty-one or twenty-two and you make some decisions; then whisssh! you’re seventy.”
I think it’s a line that anyone facing retiring can relate to because in life we make lots of decisions in every chapter of life. And when that moment of transitioning into retirement finally arrives, you ask yourself where did all that time go? You relive and cherish those earlier days of the journey like falling in love; getting married; the first apartment and saving one of our paychecks for that down payment on the first house in Wyckoff; being blessed with our three beautiful children; planting seeds for 18 great years in the town we loved called Pennington and then the decision to spend our empty nest years in Spring Lake.
I thought a lot about Mom’s courage to leave behind a promising career at Prudential as an Industrial Psychologist to see if academia could work for her, but always knowing that any career she chose would be secondary to her primary role as your Mom and caretaker in chief of the family.
I thought about how scary that first interview must have been at TCNJ in 1986 – a new Mom of 6 months and the parking gate falling down on her car as she arrived on campus and still wowing the hiring team that day with her incredible credentials.
How what was initially a one-year appointment turned into a tenure track opportunity the following year as an Assistant Professor, then a promotion to Associate Professor and several years later to full Professor, the holy grail of higher education. And now in retirement an even more rarefied title to behold “Professor Emeritus?.
How throughout Mom’s distinguished career, she consistently scored the highest teacher evaluations – a testament to her commitment to her students; how she could find the time to be able to publish numerous refereed journal articles as well as her first book on Ethics with the second one targeted for publication early next year.
In a testament to her leadership and ability to bring people together, getting elected overwhelmingly by her peers to the position as the Chair of the Psychology Department, the most popular major at TCNJ and the cultural revolution she helped engineer in a period of 4 years. It was a change that was very much needed at that time and one that serves as a template for how to manage a department in academia with compassion, understanding, and inclusion of all.
I think about her passion in getting involved in dog therapy these past 15 years and the healing and emotional support it has offered to young children, those suffering from anxiety, and those navigating a loss.
But what I keep coming back to these past few months is how Mom could succeed so demonstrably in her career and yet never lose sight of her primary role and love of just being a Mom to each of you and all that comes with that title and which I think is the greatest title of all in life.
How your Mom was always there for you – getting you ready for school, making your lunch and dinner, helping with the homework, driving you to and from school and to all the practices and games, all those birthday parties, and fully present in all of your most private conversations. Yes, your Mom was always there for you.
She never lost sight of how important wearing that hat of being your Mom was to her no matter what else was going on in her work or in other parts of her life. I know how important it is to her at this stage in life to continue to be there for you as your Mom, to Tarah and Katie in their own roles as a Mom, and to Pat, Logan, and Brian as they navigate their own lives, and to be there for her four beautiful grandchildren.
Mom never judged but always showed up with unconditional love whether she was wearing the hat as Tarah, Katie, and Pat’s Mom; as a sister to Sue, Donald, and Norm; as Bernie and Marie’s daughter; as my wife or the many other family members and friends Mom has helped over a lifetime.
I want to send a huge thank you to Tarah and Katie and everyone else for planning this special celebration for Mom and for sharing your own reflections on Mom’s career as hearing them brought me great joy.
I’d like to close with a final thought that takes me back to a moment in October 1993 when we were still in those early days of living and loving Pennington. There’s a photo of the 5 of us at the Hopewell Valley Harvest Fair and whenever I look at it I think of how special that day was and the lyrics from one of my favorite songs that year called “Harvest Moon” by Neil Young which perfectly captures how I’m feeling about the love of my life and my hopes for her in this next chapter called retirement.
“But now it’s gettin’ late
And the moon is climbin’ high
I want to celebrate
See it shinin’ in your eye.
Because I’m still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I’m still in love with you
On this harvest moon.”
Congratulations Jean, sending you all my love and wishing you a very happy and healthy retirement, Jack
