So this afternoon, at work, my colleague Jessica asked how long it’s been since I graduated high school. “43 years”was my reply, quickly followed by my statement that there are more shorter days ahead of me than the longer ones from my past. She was more than kind and told me that wasn’t so until I reminded her that in 43 years, if I’m still around, I’d be a young 103 year old. I got to thinking about my age now. Sixty is a big round number, seeming to mark, once and for all, the difference between middle age and the thing that comes after that. Who else turned 60 last year? Madonna, in August. Prince and Michael Jackson would have, too, if they’d made it. As for me, I had always hoped I would arrive at this age with equal measures of joy and acceptance — grateful for what has mostly been a happy life, even if wistful that there are surely more days behind me now than ahead. I had imagined myself being 60 sitting in an Adirondack chair, listening to all my intolerable 1970s music while my loved ones expressed their adoration, Cat Stevens-rock notwithstanding. I offer the following additional observations about what it means to be 60 now. First off, siblings are great, but never forget that sometimes what you need most are your cousins. Dogs continue to amaze me. A dog loves a person the way people love each other only while in the grip of new love: with intense, unwavering focus, attentive to every move the beloved makes, unaware of imperfections, desiring little more than to be close, to be entwined, to touch and touch and touch. Nothing tastes as good as being healthy feels, except for maybe fresh pizza hot out of a wood-fired oven, garnished with kosher salt and freshly chopped basil leaves. It is unlikely you will ever speak a foreign language as well as you did in high school. ( Father Aracich, my Jesuit Italian teacher from high school, would tell you that I never could speak ANY language). It costs nothing to forgive people who have wronged you. Forever bearing the burden of anger, on the other hand, will eat you alive. It is impossible to lose weight unless you also stop drinking or get really sick. If you have writer’s block, lower your standards, and then revise. You never stop missing your parents, no matter how old you get, no matter how long they have been gone. Or, for that matter, your children. Admit when you are wrong. The older you get, the more frequently you’ll have the opportunity. Have a sense of humor about everything, including the things that are the saddest.
And Jessica, you’ll be a ‘young 80’ in just 43 years!
The Valley Viewpoint 