Where Everybody Knows Your Name

A few years before he retired, Mike Ragan took a daring step: He walked into an Arthur Murray dance studio in his hometown of Federal Way, Wash., and asked about lessons. His wife was dying, his career was ending, and he knew he needed to “invest in living,” as he puts it. 

“All I was doing was working and taking care of her, and I knew I needed to do something else—and I would say that’s true of most people who retire,” says Ragan, a former physics and engineering teacher who is vice president of Washington Education Association-Retired. “You need to find something that gets you up and out of your shell. It could be a part-time job, it could be volunteering at a local hospital. It doesn’t matter what it is, so long as you aren’t just sitting at home.”

Today, about five years after that first tentative step, Ragan waltzes, foxtrots, rumbas, cha-chas, tangos, and hustles for up to several hours a day, six days a week. 

“Years ago, I used to go to a gym, and I felt pretty good afterward, but I never looked forward to going there,” he says. “I look forward to going dancing!”

Ragan’s dance studio is what sociologists call his “third place.” It’s where Ragan smiles and sweats and connects with others. “I’m out with people—and they’re happy people!” he says. 

“These places help us connect with other people and make us feel like we belong.”

—Danielle Rhubart, sociologist, Penn State
 

What is a ‘third place’?

The theory around third places originated with sociologist Roy Oldenburg, author of the book Celebrating the Third Place. Your first place? It’s your home, wrote Oldenburg, who died in 2022. Your second place? Until retirement, it’s work. But each of us needs an additional third place to relax in public, encounter familiar faces, and make new acquaintances, Oldenburg suggested. 

Warm and welcoming, third places are where we make friends and have a little fun, which makes them critical to our well-being. The more interactions we have, whether with strangers or old friends, the happier we tend to be, a 2022 Harvard University study found. 

Friendships among older adults are also tied to better health and longer lives. But third places don’t just benefit individuals, they make for healthier communities by tying us together, says Penn State sociology professor Danielle Rhubart. 

For Alabama retired teacher Cynthia Miles-Peebles, the 8 a.m. service at Tuscaloosa’s Elizabeth Baptist Church is a third place. “It’s an assembly with like-minded people—and I draw strength from that,” Miles-Peebles says.

Think dog parks, coffee shops, churches, neighborhood bars or fast-food joints, and senior centers—all of these are third places (if we put down our phones while we’re there!). Anyone can walk in and linger. Cost is minimal. Conversation is almost guaranteed. 

“These places help us connect with other people and make us feel like we belong,” Rhubart says. And, in case you are wondering, Facebook doesn’t count. “Face-to-face interaction really matters,” Rhubart explains.

You have to reach out

For retirees, it’s complicated. Not only do you need a third place, but retirement means you’ve recently lost your second place. And, if you’re like Kari Vanderjack, of Illinois, you’ve also uprooted your first place. 

When Vanderjack retired, in 2020, in the middle of the pandemic, she sold her suburban Chicago home and moved three hours south to a lakefront community in Effingham, Ill. 

“All of a sudden, we had nobody,” she recalls. “We had no friends down here—and we couldn’t go anywhere. Everything was closed!”

When businesses started opening up, in late 2020, Vanderjack was intentional in reaching out. She’d always been an active Illinois Education Association (IEA) member, so she started with the local IEA-Retired chapter. That became her new second place, as Vanderjack attends monthly chapter meetings and social events, and serves as the retired liaison to the local active union. 

After that, her third place was a cinch. “My husband and I … joined four bowling leagues!” she says. 

Vanderjack, who is 59, has been bowling almost all her life. When she was a kid, she pedaled her bike to a bowling alley about a half-mile from her childhood home to practice her sport. As an educator, she coached the local high school’s team. And one of her sons bowled in college. 

“We’re a bowling family,” Vanderjack says. 

As soon as she could, Vanderjack reached out to bowling leagues in her new hometown. “I put my name out there,” she says. She was quickly offered several roster slots. 

To make social connections, you have to make an effort, she advises. The door may be open, but you have to walk through.

“You just start talking to people, and then you’re making friends, going out for coffee.”

—Janice Dwosh, former elementary school teacher, Arizona
 

‘Just start talking’

Another Oldenburg-style third place is the YMCA. When Arizona retiree Janice Dwosh turned 65, her Medicare Advantage plan offered a free gym membership. 

“I was walking, but I wanted to participate in activities with other people,” recalls the former elementary school teacher. “So I said OK!”

Dwosh signed up for trainer-led, older-adult classes at the YMCA Desert Foothills, in Scottsdale, joining about 60 women and 5 men. 

“I met a woman who I basically grew up with in Southern California. We were in next-door high schools, both on drill team. Never met until this class, and now I’ve been to her house, and she’s been to mine,” Dwosh says. “You just start talking to people, and then you’re making friends, going out for coffee.”

When Dwosh hurt her shoulder, she turned the physical therapy office into a temporary third place, making friends among the other patients. 

Dwosh has also dug deeper into the Arizona Education Association Retired and NEA-Retired. In recent years, she has developed and provided trainings on social and racial justice for aspiring, active, and retired educators. 

“I can see my knowledge being used for good purposes,” she says, adding that it’s “tremendously enjoyable” and rewarding. 

“Knowing that there are people out there who care about each other gives me peace of mind.”

—Annie Baker, retired computer technician, Alaska

Don’t forget your union!

Can NEA-Retired or your local chapter be a third place? Local union meetings have many welcoming characteristics. They’re also fun! 

Vanderjack’s retired chapter investigates the best local hamburgers, hosts game days, and more. At meetings, you’ll see old friends and make new ones.

Still, you have to be a retired educator and union member to attend. In that respect, your retiree union should be considered your new second place. 

When Annie Baker retired from Alaska’s Fairbanks North Star Borough School District,in 2020, she felt a little lost. She had worked as a computer technician for 30 years and had been a union member since age 16. 

“It’s something I need in my life! I missed it,” she says. She jumped at the chance to serve on an NEA-Alaska organizing team that traverses the massive state to talk with current and potential members. 

Baker also volunteers as communications chair for NEA-Alaska/Retired. “I hate to say [retirees] have more time on their hands, but I do think we have more time than active members,” she says. 

If union organizing is your passion, dive in, she says. If you live in Alaska and sharing recipes is your thing, send one to Baker, and she’ll put it in the newsletter! Her union is a big tent where everybody looks out for each other. 

“Knowing that there are people out there who care about each other gives me peace of mind,” she says.

Similarly, when Miles-Peebles retired, she asked herself, “OK, what do I love?” 

“I kept saying to myself, ‘I love children.’ But I also am an advocate for educators,” she says. 

“I want to fight for the rights of educators. Whether you’re a classroom teacher, administrator, bus driver, lunchroom worker, janitor—I don’t care. We’re all work-ing for the betterment of students.”

This sense of mission fuels Miles-Peebles, who is president of the Tuscaloosa Education Retirees Association and a district director. As she travels throughout her state, she organizes Alabama Education Association members and meets with state legislators to advocate for educators and students. 

“I’ve been to about seven legislative contact dinners in the last 30 days, … and that’s a really important space for me,” Miles-Peebles says. “I explain to [state lawmakers] the importance of supporting retirees. Here in Alabama, 60 percent of … retirees live below the federal poverty level. That’s terrible!”

She adds: “That’s my passion—that’s what gets me riled up.”

Her advice to retirees “Dig into your heart and find your passion. Life is short. When you retire, don’t just look out the window. Get outside.”