Retirement: The Joy of Saying Yes to New Opportunities
A Reading Specialist's Journey of Reinvention, Purpose, and Unexpected Blessings
Retirement: The Joy of Saying Yes to New Opportunities
When I retired after 15 years as a reading specialist, I assumed that I would be slowing down. In reality, retirement became the busiest—and most meaningful—chapter of my life.
It all began while I was sitting on the beach with my daughter, talking about my upcoming retirement, when she said, "Now, Mom, there are no excuses not to write the book you always said you would." I knew she was right, but writing a book felt daunting and overwhelming. Finally, I decided to begin writing and see what happened. Did I even have the stamina to finish a book? I wasn't sure.
I knew I was on the right track because every time I sat down to write, I felt excited. Many times, my fingers moved faster than I could type! The story my parents had told so often lived inside me. It was there. I could feel it. Life interrupted the process many times, but eventually I finished the manuscript.
I was excited to share my parents' little-known story of surviving the Holocaust. I didn't think I could find an agent for yet another Holocaust memoir, so the manuscript sat on my computer. Then a dear friend encouraged me to get it off the screen and into the world. She convinced me that it was worthy and that it was a story that needed to be told. I will always be grateful for her encouragement and belief in me. We all need someone who nudges us beyond our comfort zone, and retirement is a wonderful time to let that happen.
After self-publishing Sarinka: A Sephardic Holocaust Journey from Yugoslavia to an Internment Camp in America, I couldn't wait to speak about it. I shared my parents' story with Hadassah groups, synagogues, Rotary Clubs, Men's Clubs—anyone who wanted to listen. Each presentation felt like another opportunity to keep my parents' memories alive. Before long, my book found its way into libraries and museums because I had finally come to believe that this story mattered. At that point, I realized retirement would become whatever I was willing to make of it.
One day, I received a call from the Zekelman Holocaust Center asking if I would become a Next Generation Speaker. It required meeting with a professor over the course of a year to prepare a presentation for students about what it was like growing up as the child of Holocaust survivors and how my parents' experiences shaped my own life.
The process led me to do some unexpected soul-searching. Memories surfaced that I had never spoken about before. Once again, I found myself stepping outside my comfort zone. I came to appreciate that my own story mattered too—how growing up with immigrant parents who had survived the Holocaust was very different from the childhoods of my friends with American-born parents. When my presentation was finally approved, I began speaking to student groups after they toured the museum. Every visit became a meaningful opportunity to answer thoughtful questions and encourage reflection. It remains the most rewarding volunteer work I have ever done, and I hope to continue doing it for as long as I am able.
People often say that we need to pay attention to life—to listen for the opportunities that unexpectedly appear. One day, I received an email from CURE®, an online cancer magazine, inviting readers to share their cancer stories. I had already been receiving the print magazine. By then, I had been living with small lymphocytic lymphoma for many years. Fortunately, it is a chronic form of cancer that has been treatable when necessary, although I still require antibody infusions every four weeks because of my severely compromised immune system. Writing has always been something I loved, so I decided to tell my story. Perhaps it would encourage someone who had just received the frightening news of a cancer diagnosis. I submitted it and thought nothing more about it.
Quite a while later, I received an email thanking me for my story and asking if I would consider becoming one of their bloggers. I was shocked, honored, and couldn't wait to begin. Writing about my cancer journey a couple of times each month has been unexpectedly therapeutic. Even now, I continue discovering new topics and perspectives that I never imagined I would have to share.
Then came one of retirement's greatest blessings—becoming a grandmother. Perhaps it became such a priority because, growing up, I had almost no extended family. My parents' Yugoslav friends became the family we didn't have. Now, my grandchildren are my greatest joy, and everything else fits around them.
I began telling them stories from my own childhood—especially the times my sister and I found ourselves in trouble! One day, one of my other daughters said, "You should record your stories so we'll always have them." I loved the idea.
I went on Spotify to figure out how to create a podcast. The learning curve was steep, but eventually I learned how to record, edit, add music, and publish episodes on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, YouTube, and Amazon Music.
Wonder Storytime for Kids was born.
I began writing original stories, retelling favorite folktales, and, with permission, reading some of my favorite children's books. At first, I hoped to publish a new episode every week, but eventually I settled into a monthly schedule that was more realistic. I am now beginning my fourth season, and it amazes me to see listeners tuning in from more than a dozen other countries around the world. I never thought I could do this and found it extremely challenging. Sometimes, I was even at the point of giving up, but my children know my motto is, "If there's a will, there's a way."
I am especially proud of this podcast because my goal has always been to help children develop a lifelong love of stories. Along the way, they naturally build vocabulary, develop an understanding of story structure, spark their imaginations, and discover meaningful life lessons hidden within each adventure.
This has been my retirement journey, and I have loved every chapter of it. I also remain active in efforts to combat antisemitism, an issue that concerns me deeply. Looking back, I realize that retirement didn't mean slowing down—it meant discovering new ways to use the gifts and experiences I had accumulated over a lifetime. I realized it could become whatever I was willing to make of it.
I didn't have a retirement plan, but I had a willingness to say yes to meaningful opportunities when they appeared. Retirement has given me the freedom to write, to teach, to speak, to advocate, to create, and, most importantly, to continue making a difference. For me, that has been the true key to a joyful and meaningful retirement.
F. Linda Cohen
July 17, 2026
flindacohen@gmail.com
