[B]old women are too busy
Behind The Scenes with me... and with my college classmate, best-selling author Dale Russakoff
🎙️ Listen to this episode of the [B]OLD AGE podcast: Bestselling Author Dale Russakoff on Being a Southern Woman at Harvard, Ambition at 71, and How Family Matters Most.
Before we go Behind The Scenes…
Welcome to the many new subscribers this week. I am so happy you’re here! Old age is hard to imagine; and if you’re “old,” it’s hard to articulate what it’s really like. The goal of this newsletter is to dive deep, even when it’s uncomfortable, and to talk about the things we associate with old age: disability, disease, cognitive decline, and, of course, the hard stop of death. And the things we don’t talk about, like how hard it is to slow down. I also talk about the things that are wonderful and surprising, such as increased gratitude, more time for family and friends, greater pleasure in small things, and more time for a creative pursuit such as writing.
I’d love to hear your questions about [b]old age, no matter how big or small, and I will answer them as honestly as I can in a future post. You can submit a question below:
And now, a slightly different Behind The Scenes…
I’m going to tell you why I interviewed my college classmate Dale Russakoff for the [B]OLD AGE podcast. It’s a terrific episode and I hope you’ll listen here. But before I do, I want to tell you about a condition that is rampant among the semi-retired, 70-somethings that I know.
It’s called being AT. CAPACITY.1
In other words, we are not only busy, we are too busy. We can’t take on one more thing. We are fully at capacity. This is a bit unexpected, given that those in their 70s are supposedly in a life phase where we are slowing down. But that doesn’t seem to be the case for many of us.
It’s a familiar feeling, one that’s chased me my entire adulthood. I find myself wondering, why do I feel so pressed for time when I don’t have a 9 - 5 job? Why do I sometimes feel so busy I forget to eat (or go to the bathroom)? Why do I let ten minutes of morning meditation fall by the wayside? Why do stretching and exercise, which I genuinely enjoy, keep getting left out of my day?
The answer is a little painful because it illuminates an uncomfortable truth. It’s this: even though I aspire to slowing down and living more mindfully – and I keep saying how important this is – I haven’t yet learned how to do it.
This past week was an example. I was overly busy. I was AT. CAPACITY. For the past six months I’ve been working on a multi-generational women’s storytelling event that we stage live here in Stonington, Maine. It’s an event I conceived of after participating in a similar project in New York City2. Seven women, one from each decade (20s to 70s), told five-minute personal stories from the stage, a performance idea based on The Moth’s approach to storytelling. I found the experience to be so much fun3 and so inspiring that I decided I would create a similar event in my little Maine town.
Never mind that I had no experience as a live theater director and I get stage fright myself when I have to perform. But I knew how to tell a story and how to edit others’ stories. And, I told myself, I would figure out the rest. Island Women Speak, the name I dreamt up, has stuck; we live on an island off the coast of Maine so it’s just right.
Six years later, IWS has become a spectacular success and I have learned A LOT about directing a live performance. It draws a full house to our little theatre on cold January nights; this year, tickets were sold out a week in advance! The theme was #ahotmess. It proved to be the perfect hook for personal stories from the seven Deer Isle women4, ages 23 to 83, whom I convinced to participate. (Initially, no one wants to get up on stage.) Turns out it was also the perfect hook for my own story, the one I’m sharing with you today. By the time last night finally came around, after months of effort, I indeed felt like #ahotmess.
But directing Island Women Speak is also gratifying. I love working with each of these women and helping them find a personal story on our theme (it changes every year). I love that Islanders love IWS and recognize me as the creator and director, when I’m in the dentist’s chair or at the grocery store. It’s just that it’s a lot… and seems like too much in the final stretch.
What is wrong with being too busy?
Aside from some particularly challenging commitments (like Island Women Speak, producing my podcast, and writing my Substack), I don’t want to live in a state of breathless productivity. My mother, who died almost exactly one year ago, was never still. She was a force to be reckoned with, in so many ways. But this meant she was always in a hurry. She never had time to sit down and talk (something I deeply wished for), or just “be.” Her busyness made her inaccessible, and it was frustrating. I want to be different.
And yet, it seems to be part of being a [b]older woman, this busyness. Especially when you’ve led a life of achievement and high expectations… I’m realizing the drive to continue achieving doesn’t slow with my increasing years on the planet. Even in my early 70s, I’m struggling to relinquish my grip on it.
Now onto Dale Russakoff and this week’s episode of [B]OLD AGE
First, I stole the phrase “at capacity” from Dale. A friend offered her the expression, Dale told me in our conversation. Dale had confided that she was busier than ever in semi-retirement, too busy. And her friend suggested she say she’s AT. CAPACITY. when turning things down. We both laughed because it’s so perfect. I hope she laughs again when she sees how much I’ve used it in this post!
This interview with Dale is the third of three5 podcast interviews I’ve done with extraordinary classmates, all [B]OLD women from the 1974 class of Harvard/Radcliffe, as we prepare for our 50th reunion in May. Continuing a theme, I wanted to ask Dale about what has changed for women in the past 50 years, about her ambition as a young reporter, and about what she’s up to now. Her answers surprised me and you can hear them in this episode.
Dale had an almost 30-year career as a reporter with The Washington Post and then wrote a highly-lauded book, THE PRIZE, described by The New York Times as “a brilliantly reported behind-the-scenes account of Newark, NJ’s attempt to right its failing public schools.” She’s now the chair of a local nonprofit, regularly visits and takes care of her two grandchildren, is committed to a weekly visit with her 97-year-old mother-in-law (preparing and taking her dinner), and is contemplating writing a children’s book.
Doing so much (too much?) echoes my own experience these days. It was reassuring to hear Dale’s story, reminding me that we’re all in some form of #ahotmess, much of the time.
Do you feel you are “at capacity,” or too busy?
Are you busy but you have it all under control? Are you ever #ahotmess?
I’d love to hear.
You may know that I am obsessed with punctuation. If you’re wondering, the ALL CAPS followed by a PERIOD, is an online convention for emphasis.
The event in New York City is Generation Women, conceived of and produced monthly by author and storyteller Georgia Clark.
The first line of my story told live for Generation Women was, “I’m 65 and I still have sex.” It brought the house down.
"She was a force to be reckoned with, in so many ways. But this meant she was always in a hurry. She never had time to sit down and talk (something I deeply wished for), or just “be.” Her busyness made her inaccessible, and it was frustrating." -- I feel this so deeply about my mom and her (now passed) mom. I don't blame them, but I have always had that same longing for them to just "be" with me.
What a great topic, Debbie and so on my mind!!
I just had another baby (my 4th) and I LOVED the slow-down of late pregnancy and early postpartum. I've been noticing a tendency to feel guilty about getting busy again--an inclination to punish myself for 'missing' this baby time. But I love many things: exercise, writing, community-building. I'm being careful not to jump headlong into busyness as an addiction/ compulsion (which I was definitely practicing up until the middle of this last pregnancy) while also realizing that different forms of work and play light me up in valuable ways. I'm trying to hold onto variety because it makes everything better, while also building in deliberate periods of contemplative quiet--what I'm calling "sacred returns." Moments when I am with my new baby, nursing, playing, having snacks with the other kids. Cooking dinner. Reading with them in bed. Weekend family walks in nature with the baby on my chest. In other words, there is room for all of it, if I am super intentional about every moment.