The phone rang when I was deep in the evening television news. It was someone I knew, a representative of the local business association. She wanted to discuss a proposal for a grant and shared her idea. It was to make a short documentary celebrating the contribution that migrants had made to Hamilton, after World War II. I had told the stories of some of these resilient and courageous people in my Hidden Hamilton blog and books.
Meeting and becoming friends with Australians of rich European heritage – Italian, Greek, Macedonian and more – had been a highlight of this work and their stories had touched my heart.
They were the reason I said yes.
My volunteer role would be substantial, working with a filmmaker to provide access to families to create fresh footage, content, images and narration. The film would be screened as part of a larger multicultural festival in Hamilton later in the year.
As the weeks passed, the project began to weigh heavily on me. It was eight or nine years since I had worked on Hidden Hamilton material: 2013–2016. Since then I had collaborated occasionally with the City of Newcastle on further initiatives to embed Hamilton’s history in its streets and Plaza, written many articles for social and other media, and made a speech or two.
Of course, the application may not be successful. But the more I thought about this latest proposal, the more anxious I became. I’d had a fall recently, my first in five years, which had shaken my confidence. I was finding it more difficult to reach firm decisions. Since losing my partner of the last 20 years, every day has been filled with ‘work’ of one kind or another and I am tired. Opportunities – and time – to do the things that rejuvenate me seem to have shrunk.
One morning I awoke and, flooded with clarity, knew I needed to withdraw from the project. Applications were closing soon so I rang my contact to apologise and explain. With difficulty, I laid out the reasons why I felt it was not within my capacity at this time. Reluctantly, she accepted the inevitable.
The experience was a bit like my scamming encounter. What was my mental state when I went along with the scammer? When the film proposal was put to me, where were my usual probing questions? I’d been involved in making a documentary before and perhaps I felt I knew the ropes.
What I failed to take account of was that this is the year in which I turn 80. It is just a number I know, but I’m beginning to feel every year of that. I’m not who I was a decade ago.
If Ken had been here, he would have asked his favourite question – WHY? Why do you want to do this? And then – who will be helping you? What will happen to the project if you can’t keep going? What won’t you be able to do if you take this on? And when is enough, enough?
I am my own guardian now and still learning on the job. I’m grateful to two good friends who supported me after the event. I know now I should not have committed so readily and reached out for help earlier.
So I’ll pick myself up and go on, still with plenty of things to do, but with a lighter heart.
12 Responses
Thank you, Ruth. Your generous ‘yes’ had to be nudged by the realistic questions that you suggest Ken would have posed.
Well done. The fear of boredom can make it difficult to change one’s mind about such a flattering proposal but I agree with you. As years stack up behind me, less feels like more a lot of the time.
I hope your new decade contains many more enchanting days.
Cecile, thank you for your comment and your empathy.
I fully agree with Cecile, Ruth. I also think it’s a lot to be asked of a volunteer to take on a role like this, especially when a grant is being applied for. It’s flattering for sure but it sounds like a huge project for you to take on
Thank you Vicki. There was no team approach either.
Hi Ruth
You made the right decision. A difficult one but better to say no when you did than become overwhelmed in the middle of the project. I can’t believe you are 80 this year though!
Debbie
Thank you Debbie.
It’s good to know when to “stand down”, Ruth.
You are the best judge of your own capacities- the project would have been a good one, if it had been a bit earlier. Love and best wishes to you, Sue.
Thank you Sue – though my confidence in being a good judge of my own capacities is a bit shaken!
I have to say that I don’t agree with the ‘age is just a number’ sentiment. For one thing it is more than a number, it is a measure of time, with units of years, months, etc. Aging is real, and the important thing is to manage it well, just like you are doing Ruth.
Thanks Geoff, you are spot-on. While each of us ages at a different rate, it is of course, inevitable. I remember seeing my father after a break and being shocked at how much and how suddenly he had aged. Until then, he had seemed timeless.
Hi Ruth, as I have just turned 70 I too think, like your friend Geoff mentioned, it is a measure of time and we do all age differently. I have only just started looking at myself as an aging woman, no longer able to do the things I used to do, even without our mutual diagnosis of M.S. I think I would have thought twice about agreeing to do such a project.
I have been wondering why I haven’t seen you on Beaumont St on your scooter recently. Now I understand after reading your blog. We will definitely have to catch up for coffee soon. Take care of yourself. Love Janx
Jan, a belated congratulations on your 70th! Thanks for your comment – I have been around – but the weather hasn’t been conducive to lingering long. We’ll catch up soon.