Live long enough, and we reach yet another awkward age: our 60tweens—old but not old enough … ineligible for some senior discounts; not old enough to retire, get on Medicare or collect Social Security. As an observer of human lifespans, watching my parents and relatives and celebrities age, I’m thinking this decade of life may be the last hurrah. If other health battles haven’t interrupted our relatively long lives, such as cancer or debilitating injury, then 60something is likely our last decade of still getting around, confidently walking on our own, still somewhat flexible, able to exercise though moderately, traveling, driving, dancing, thinking, creating, working. Besides, a recent AARP magazine article made clear the 60s are when we really start dying out as a generation. Thanks for giving us the straight dope, AARP.
Perhaps having old U.S. Presidents is making us think 80 is the new 60, that we will all be just as active as Biden and Trump. How long we live and age truly is in the genes for the most part. Some families have long life spans. Look at Jimmy Carter. Other than sheer luck, health is the most important factor. Just keeping ourselves healthy by eating right, modest indulgences like drinks and sweets, managing stress, and maintaining an active as opposed to sedentary lifestyle. In short, KEEP MOVING. Keep on keeping on.
So, I keep working—despite awakening almost every day with new aches and pains, some that will become chronic. But each day I realize my mind is not as sharp as it used to be. Often the single precise word I need has left the building of my mind. On the other hand, I’ve always been that a-way even as a kid. I remember it well, talking 90 words a minute then drawing a complete blank over the right word or name of someone, always just on the tip of my tongue, ahhhh nuts. Sometimes even when writing, this can occur. But in writing, I have time to remember the perfect word(s) I wanted to use. And in our wonderful century, I can easily edit something already published digitally. Gotta love our times sometimes.
Both my dad and mom had heart attacks at the end of their 60s. Afterwards, physically they were brought down a few notches, not as agile as they had been most of their lives, never again to consider traveling anywhere, more inclined to stay put at home, enjoying simply sitting and watching TV and napping. My parents still exercised, their living room adorned with a treadmill and stationary bike. In good weather, they used to take country walks, enjoying their golden years of well-deserved retirement. But their respective heart attacks changed them from active and energetic seniors to … more cautious with every step and breath.
Twenty years later, mom fell and broke her hip. That was it. A year later, she was dead, so traumatic to the body is a broken hip perhaps at any age. But at 85, her bones were brittle, too.
Many of my high school classmates have retired, having lucked out with a solid job for 30 or so years. Not me. The truth is I enjoy working. Makes me feel useful, like I’m part of life on the planet. Don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have a job to go to, a big purpose. Besides, unemployment makes me extremely depressed. And I wouldn’t have health insurance without a job. Not yet. So I keep on truckin’.
The future is now
If this is indeed my last great decade, I hope to travel the world again. Number one on my bucket list is Latin America. Never been, not even to Mexico. Traveling to Germany, of which I have some ancestry around the Rhineland, would be another adventure to look forward to. Scotland, too. And I’ve never been to Hawaii or taken an ocean cruise.
While I still have my health, vision, hearing and mental faculties (as good as they’ve ever been, I suppose), I realize the time to do whatever makes up my final chapter is now.
When I was in my 40s, I wrote my obituary and memorial desires and instructions. Have it all figured out. Over the years, I’ve gone back into the doc to update, changing specific songs, to me the most interesting aspect of a person’s memorial. Still keeping Carry On by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. And the more I think about it, that Laura Nyro song And When I Die seems a fond farewell sentiment I’d like to leave everyone. Both songs are optimistic; they are songs encouraging the rest of humanity who will see and experience things I won’t after crossing into that great Classroom in the sky.
Life is for learning. That is my philosophy. Religion is not the study of God but the study of people, cultures. Yes, it is. In pondering the Great Unknown—where we all ‘go’ when, you know, we skip outta this human existence on Earth—I’ve been fascinated by stories of people who’ve actually died at least for a few minutes. Their stories are remarkably similar, and their experiences are real. The most amazing claim is they no longer fear death. And neither should the rest of us. It is a blessing that we don’t live forever, that we finally retire permanently, thank God. The older I get, the more I find myself looking forward to the Glad Reunion in the Sky … just not quite yet. Please, please, please?