Finding My Way (Or Trying To...)

So, as I write this, I am now officially without a job. I haven't been without a job since I was a teenager, and frankly, I don't like it very much. I'm not the kind of person who is eager to retire: I actually enjoy working. In fact, my professional life has long been a major part of who I am as a person. Whether I was a deejay, or a music director, or a radio consultant, or when I reinvented myself and became a college professor, these things all helped to define my identity. In radio, I was that person making a difference for my audience by playing the songs they liked; and I was the friendly voice they heard when they tuned to their favorite station. Later, as an educator, I was that person making a difference for my students by teaching them, mentoring them, and training them. I not only taught whatever the subject was, but I also taught critical thinking, and respect for differing points of view. And I ran the school newspaper: some of my student interns went on to get good jobs in media.  

And then, the university where I worked decided to get rid of a bunch of us, in a move that was ostensibly about budget-cuts. These things happen. I understand that. During my years in radio, I was fired on several occasions-- stations changed ownership, and the new folks wanted to bring in their own people. In this case, there has been a budget crunch and the administration believed that firing more than two dozen professors was a way to save some money. But knowing the reason (whether I agreed with it or not) didn't make it any easier. The bottom line is I'm now unemployed, and that's not something I was planning on, nor something I was looking forward to.

I don't know about you, but I function best when I know where I'm supposed to be and what I'm expected to do. Thus, not knowing what the next thing is for me is very disconcerting. It's also very worrisome, given that, as I've mentioned in previous blogs, I'm 77. Still young and cute, still active, still energetic, but 77. I sincerely don't know if other companies are going to see me as someone with a lot to offer-- someone with many accomplishments who still has much more she can achieve. My fear is that they'll see me as someone who might require a higher salary, or someone who is (gasp) too old, and they will simply gravitate towards folks who are younger.    

A couple of weeks ago, a student of mine told me that someone on Reddit had posted an old photo of me, the one in the studios at Northeastern in 1968, when I became their first female deejay. I'm rarely on Reddit, but I went to check out the site and thank whoever had posted the photo. And while I was there, I found a Rush fan group. I'm not a member of many fan groups (no time, usually), but I saw a post that I thought I could contribute to, and so I joined. Needless to say, some folks didn't think it was really me, but once they realized that it was, we had a nice conversation. It took my mind off of how I was feeling, and that was very helpful.

But the experience reminded me of how grateful I am to the folks I chat with online-- whether it's the people I play Wordle with on Twitter (I refuse to call it X, and I know I'm not alone), or the educators I help to support through charities like Donors Choose, or the fans who respond when I post something about Rush, or those who respond when I post something about politics, or media, or baseball-- and yes, that includes everyone who reads my blog. I have no idea what is going to happen next for me, and that isn't easy to deal with. But I feel a lot better knowing there are people online (some of whom I've never even met) who reach out to me on a regular basis. In difficult times, in insecure times, in times when nothing seems to make sense, I know I'm not going through it alone. I've said this before, but it needs to be said again: to all of you who are part of my extended online community, I appreciate you more than I can put into words.