"I'll Be With You Until the End" — Wait, What? Not So Fast!
Here’s how my podcast origin story begins: 3 years ago, my doctor at Duke looked at me earnestly after an annual checkup and said, “Judy, I’ll be with you until the end.”
THE END?! Excuse me? What end? Did she just... what does she know that I don’t know?! She clearly didn’t get the memo about bedside manners.
Yes, my knees are — according to my orthopedist — basically trash. My hip was justreplaced. And sure, various body parts have started staging their own little rebellions in ways not to be described. Me, dwell on these challenges? No way. But older? I genuinely had not considered that word applicable. And yet, there I was, officially in my 70s, staring down the concept of mortality like it had just walked in without knocking.
And here’s what’s true: I had zero plans. None. No retirement plan, no “what if I get sick” plan, no “what if I can’t live on my own” plan. Nada.
My whole life has kind of worked that way, honestly. When I entered law school at the University of Florida — there were 1,000 students and exactly 9 of us were women (up from 3 the year before). The 70s. A different day. I never intended to practice law. It was more of a “well, this degree will give an odd duck like me some credibility.” From there, life became a wonderfully chaotic mix of following duties, dreams, chasing ideas, walking through doors that opened, stumbling back through doors that closed, and generally winging it with tremendous enthusiasm. No master plan. Just a commitment to save the world, make some money, do some good, have fun, and live like a Hollywood movie fantasy. Through the years I danced between the raindrops — even if it was pouring.
Slowing down was simply never on my itinerary. But with my sweetly intentioned doctor’s comment, suddenly it was very much on the docket.
I’ll confess: When I was a kid, I dreamed of being a singer, actress, comedian, an entertainer, someone who makes people feel good for a living. When I was a teenager babysitting in the neighborhood, I’d put on a Judy Garland record and pantomime singing all night until they came home. I shelved that dream — too scared, not enough confidence, no encouragement, and deeply concerned about what other people would think. Fear of failure, fear of being poor — all those fears ganged up and sat on that dream while I went off to other interesting adventures and endeavors. (I often say I’m “Judy Gump” based upon where I at times found myself.)
But when your doctor casually drops the word “end” into your annual exam, something shifts. You start doing the math on how much time is left on your “To Do” list, and suddenly now or never feels less like a cliché and more like a personal urgency.
And so — here we are.
Not Ready for the Farm was born. Because we are all aging (it starts the moment we arrive, rude as that is), and most of us are navigating that journey with a mix of regrets, guilt, unfinished business, family drama, creaky joints, and a calendar that somehow feels shorter every year. Nobody hands you a guidebook. Nobody tells you what your options are depending on your health, finances, family situation, attitude, ZIP code, or approximately 85 other factors.
That’s what this podcast is for. To figure it out together, this journey of aging. To laugh about it when we can. To be honest when we can't. To ask the questions that need asking and share the answers we find along the way.
I also won’t pretend this isn’t personally terrifying for me. Putting myself out there — really out there — is outside my comfort zone after all these years, now in front of the camera. Fortunately, we’ve got an incredible Team who showed up with talent, patience, laughter, and genuine kindness to help build Season 1 with 13 Episodes from scratch.
They make the show better. They make me better.
So, let’s just see how this unfolds, shall we?