Cecilia Williams

I grew up in a day and age when girls were advised against going to college (it will make it harder to get married), or if they did go, choosing a feminine career. This type of guidance permeated my life just as it permeated the lives of most girl at the time. As a child, I was primed to be a ballerina and a pianist; yet I much preferred playing basketball or fighting for the right to be a priest. Not sure where it would lead, I enrolled in college and soon found myself working nightshift while obtaining a Ph.D. during the day. I think it was exposure to my dad's office with its big wooden chair that was the catalyst to my ambition. Dad took me there when I was eight - right after I had announced in class that, as a school administrator, my dad really did not work. I don't think my dad ever realized what an impact his office had on me. I didn't know what it would take, but I knew that one day, I would have a swivel chair in a cozy office of my own. Even as a child, the word retirement made an impression on me. My father's retired Spanish teacher was a fascinating woman. She had three cats, each with their own bedroom in her home, and although she had retired from her formal day job, she continued to tutor. At the time I met her, she was also planning a trip to Spain. In my young mind the translation was that retirement meant being able to spend time with pets and travel where one wanted. And this impression was reinforced by another couple who lived in an upscale retirement community and travelled the world helping under-privileged kids in school. They also demonstrated that retirement was about travel with the added component of helping others. Bring it on. At age eight, I was ready for retirement. I had two experiences in my early teens which made lasting impressions. One was seeing the Broadway musical, Man of La Mancha. I soon embraced the dream of fighting for a cause, doing what is right, and bringing out the best in others. The other was words of wisdom from my mom. One day, when asked what "style" she had chosen for the dEcor of our house, she responded, "In the style of everything I love." These scenes have guided my life: fight for what is right, stretch beyond the norm, see beauty in others, and surround yourself with what you love, "without question or pause." My life is indeed styled in what I love. Throughout the years, I traveled worldwide. To me, travel has never been something to wait for until retirement; rather, it is something to be enjoyed along the way, the experiences enriching our lives in countless ways. I love to garden, and my garden is made up of fairy gardens, meditation circles, succulent gardens and vegetable boxes--all that I love. My two kitties don't each have their own bedroom; rather, they share mine. Life is purrfect. My diversity of interests also defined my school and professional work. I always studied and pursued what was interesting to me without necessarily having a goal as to how it should turn out. Learning was an end to itself. So in spite of the fact that my doctoral studies included eight extra courses in quantitative methods, I never realized I was a mathematician until someone offered me a good-paying job as one, as a manager of a research group. In retrospect, I had tutored kids in algebra when I was 13. I was a teacher's assistant in statistics as an undergraduate. And I helped all my teammates in their graduate stats classes. I was just too busy enjoying myself to notice where I was headed. As I continued in my professional life, I never chose a career path, but followed the next step that interested me. As a result, loving what I do, I have never felt like I really worked. A data processing manager in my first job, I was at the forefront of technology. Next moves were into more advanced management positions, followed by a stint as a consultant in organizational development where I helped executives manage change. Eventually, I landed a vice president job with a Fortune 500 company. Using the broad range of skills absorbed in all my experiences kept things fresh for me; I was always learning. It was only in retrospect that I was able to see how every experience opened up the next, and greater, opportunity. With my mother's Alzheimers diagnosis, my career path re-directed, and I opened a health care facility dedicated to long-term rehabilitation, founding, building, and selling the company in six years. At the same time, my love for helping others fulfill their dreams led to a part-time position teaching statistics, leadership, and business at the university level. Without realizing it, I was gravitating to a career in higher education and, when the Campus Dean for Business position opened up, it was perfectly timed with the selling of my business. I took the job without hesitation! (Besides, it came with a cozy office and swivel chair). My favorite time is during transition when I see a world of opportunities in front of me. Change can be intimidating, it can be scary. But when I see choices, I choose to say "that seems like fun." My life has been full of transitions, and, though there is always the temporary pause, there was always a forward motion; a forward transition; a forward metamorphosis. Through all my changing roles, I have never seen a job as something to be done until retirement. Instead, I continue to wonder what is next to do, to learn, to experience. I continue to see life as a series of opportunities. Perhaps that is why I so wholeheartedly avoid the traditional view of retirement and instead am immersing myself in my Act III. I met my coauthor and best friend, Paula, as she was transitioning to life in California and looking for a place to stay. I invited her to stay with me and we soon discovered we had commonality with the caregiving of our parents and our general attitude towards life. In addition, we both love to cook, particularly love to find new ways of cooking veggies. Above all, as we both enter our ACT III, neither of us want to define a traditional idea of retirement any more than we feel there was one perfect stuffing for a Thanksgiving turkey. If you come to visit, I might serve spareribs, sweet potatoes and a chai tea latte. Then some chocolate chip cookies for later. Or maybe a pastrami sandwich on a dipped Kaiser roll. Hmmm Fried oyster sandwich? I now look forward to bringing others to the realization that what we once called retirement is now Act III - a time of adventure, self-discovery, further metamorphosis, and certainly not a time for slowing and stagnation. Act III is the time to take huge bites out of life, trying and tasting the new, all the better prepared to enjoy because of wisdom and experience acquired along the way. Act III--everything you love-- savoring at its best.