Erasme Forte, born in 1940 in Vitry-sur-Seine (France), embodies the resilience and determination of a post-war generation. The son of Italian immigrants, Erasme carved his path through the technical fields of heating and plumbing. After returning from military service in 1963, he began his professional journey, spending decades in the heating industry. “I kept in touch with clients, managing heating systems, preparing renovation quotes, and handling maintenance contracts. Boiler rooms in apartment buildings were part of my routine. When I reached retirement, the pleasure of getting up at 7 a.m. to head to the peripheral was gone.”
In 2000, he transitioned from the hustle of the city of Aubervilliers to the quiet rhythms of a suburban lifestyle in Marolles-en-Brie.
Living with his wife, Monique, in their “pavillon” (detached house), Erasme found solace in the familiarity of daily life: "I immersed myself in the joy of the pavillon: DIY, maintenance, routine...". His newfound role as a grandfather added layers of meaning to his days, even as he embraced household tasks and participated in the rhythm of family life.
Yet, this simplicity contrasts with the transience of urban landscapes. Reflecting on his past, Erasme laments the erasure of memory in the periphery of Paris: "Around big cities, a lot of your visual memories are being erased and only remain in your head: my childhood house is gone, another building is gone... It’s the result of modern life." His observations underscore the disconnection he felt upon retirement, as work relationships faded and the cities he once knew became unrecognizable.
Why did you retire or why are you still working?
Why did you retire?
Why are you still working?
I retired because I had to — I didn’t really have a choice. Back then, 60 was the retirement age, and that was it. Companies didn’t insist on keeping you like some do now.
Work was demanding: 7 a.m. to 7 p.m., with the Parisian ring road and all the stress that came with it. When retirement came, I welcomed the break from the daily grind of long hours and city commutes.
Initially, it felt liberating—a chance to rest and enjoy the simple joys of home life. But over time, I realized something was missing. The connections I’d built at work faded quickly; colleagues moved on, and we lost touch. Retirement isn’t just about stopping work, it’s about finding new anchors. For me, that meant focusing on family and embracing the life my pavillon offered, even as the world around it kept changing.