Staying active — and activist — in retirement

People often ask me: why are you still doing all those professional things? Haven’t you “retired”? The underlying and well-meaning message is: why aren’t you relaxing more, travelling to faraway places, and binge-watching your favourite television shows?  I am engaged in these activities, as well as attending scholarly events, seeing students or community members who request an interview, writing articles and offering commentary when requested. In fact, most of my friends and acquaintances know that I don’t use the word “retired” because of its negative connotations. Since childhood I have been very active, and I plan to remain so, barring significant body breakdown. Why would I change now when I’m still able to continue with rewarding activities? 

Nonetheless I am surprised at the pointed inquiry that I often encounter, mostly at the local ski hill: “How old are you?” One young man even apologized for his father’s question on an earlier chairlift ride. I am tempted to ask these individuals their age, but I usually smile and either respond truthfully or demur, depending my mood. I’m generally open about my age of 84. 

There seem to be unwritten rules about age-appropriate behaviour: stay in your own lane; don’t be too different from your peers; and don’t take up space reserved for younger people. While I resist such ageist ideas, I’ll willingly engage with someone who is seeking to understand the lives of older folks. 

I believe it is important for all of us to follow our own beliefs. I enjoy my professional activities; others have closed the door on their former work selves, and some become increasingly private. There is no one path for all older people. Choice is very important for most of us, be it how you spend your time, whom you love, reproductive decisions, or the time and manner of one’s final exit. My belief is that retaining a sense of agency is critical to one’s well-being. I will argue for the rights of all individuals to choose how to lead their own lives, within a context of peaceful order. 

A lifelong work ethic 

In understanding my own work tendencies, I realized that my late partner, Jim Gripton, and I reinforced each other by engaging intensively in our work, often a joint endeavour in writing or teaching.  We both had a strong work ethic, though our childhood backgrounds were radically different. I saw my parents working hard all their lives for the benefit of my brother and me. I lived my first five years in a house with four male boarders who worked in the brickyards in Cooksville, Ont. My mother was the boarding house boss or, in the Croatian version, the “boort boss.” She did all the shopping, cooking, cleaning, laundry, and even worked in a munitions factory during the Second World War. Neither of my parents knew how to stop aiming for a better life.  

Jim came from a privileged background, complete with private schools and his own pony. Two days before his death while hospitalized, he was planning a workshop we could offer to First Nations in southern Alberta; on the next day, he was helping our son with his master’s thesis. When reviewing Jim’s medical records, his hematologist said there was no explanation as to how Jim survived his last two years, while enduring multiple myeloma. He should have been dead! One friend affirmed that Jim lived to 84 because of his love for his profession of social work and his family. 

Is that it? Do I engage actively to fend off death? Perhaps. I remain active primarily to maintain my visibility. I don’t want to give up professional and social activities that are central to my identity.  I did put away my skates years ago after falling from a standing position and knocking myself out. But then, I never really considered myself much of a skater. It is harder to contemplate giving away my downhill skis. I certainly won’t be donating my tennis racquet very soon. After all, I might have a shot at winning gold in the over-75 group, given the lack of competitors. 

Activism never gets old 

Apart from my sports self, I have previously examined two key identity descriptors that explain why I remain professionally engaged: activist scholar, and feminist social worker. Within the university, both roles have their risks. Institutions change very slowly and someone who speaks up about inequities will likely encounter pushbacks of varying kinds.  On the other hand, I’ve experienced a sense of accomplishment as well as friendship when working collaboratively with others about shared concerns. 

I was recently asked how older people might become more activist. While I obviously cannot speak on behalf of this diverse demographic, I suggest that we look to heroes like David Suzuki, age 90, and Stephen Lewis, who died in 2026 at the age of 88. I hope to continue as long as I can, writing letters, signing petitions, attending rallies and lobbying politicians. Older activists bring knowledge to their change efforts. We have been around the block, more than once. We also know how to persist. 

Are we more patient? On the contrary, I would say that older activists become increasingly impatient about the slowness of social change. We know our time is running out and much remains undone. Hope remains that we can still make a difference by fostering resilience and entrepreneurial thinking .