Today is my 60th birthday, I just rolled out of bed and made coffee, and this will be a stream-of-consciousness free-writing exercise. Bear with me, if you will.
It feels as though I crossed a sort of border upon waking this morning. Not because I'm 60, but because, coincidentally, someone I love of the same age received a dire cancer diagnosis last week. As I observe this milestone for that dear person and myself, I'm forced to confront mortality in a new way, by witnessing the suffering of someone very close.
I was a soldier for 23 years. I participated in two Middle Eastern combat operations--fewer than many service members, but sufficient for the purpose of working in the presence of people trying to kill one another and living with the concept of violent death striking without warning. When I returned, physically intact, I was as relieved as one might imagine, but also surprised. I'd had a couple of close calls, and I lost a couple of friends.
Like so many returning from war, I wondered, "Why did I make it, when Brian and Sid didn't?"
I realized that whatever was going to kill me, it wouldn't be war. That sense of a new "lease on life" led me to reevaluate everything. I left my stagnant first marriage. I went to graduate school and instead of becoming a "tie guy" (a retired soldier who trades the uniform for a shirt and tie to work for the Defense Department) I focused on writing and editing to keep the lights on.
When love struck like a bolt from the clear sky a few years later, I remarried. And as my partner and I age together, each after previous 20-year marriages, my identity as a warrior has receded far behind and seems foreign to me, like a life read about in a novel. Those memories are fresh, but they no longer define my identity.
My sense of myself is defined these days by love, family, and challenging myself to be kind, make a difference in my community, create something beautiful whenever possible, and stay healthy. I speak and stand for democracy, and against the corrupt authoritarianism we're now forced to endure in America.
I'm still running a few miles every other day around Winston-Salem, North Carolina. My wife and I take our bikes out to Salem Lake to ride the trails. We hike in the mountains and visit the ocean. We wear our well-worn skins comfortably.
As I grieve for the struggle my loved one with cancer faces, my sense of my own identity is evolving into willing acceptance of a new kind of service to those around me. How much time to I have? Will I get sick too, or live to a truly ripe old age? The uncertainty isn't so different from that of living in a combat zone, only perhaps less...immediate.
So, as an older person, I have a duty to stay as strong and healthy as possible, for as long as I can, to be here for our now-grown children making their way in an exceedingly difficult world. I'm not what I once was physically, but I can still stand in protest to cruelty and corruption. I can loudly advocate for the democracy I served for so many years. And if it comes to it, I remember how to resist oppression in more direct ways. I can advise, I can teach, and I'm still strong enough to act.
So, I suppose my current sense of myself, or my identity, is that I have much to contribute.
I spend time learning, writing, cultivating a garden, loving family and friends, and trying to maintain a certain level of self-discipline going forward.
Miyamoto Musashi, a renowned Japanese swordsman, strategist, artist, and writer, famous for his undefeated record in 62 duels and for founding the Niten Ichi-ryū style of swordsmanship, wrote in THE BOOK OF FIVE RINGS, that one should
"Be prepared to die every day."
Back in my paratrooper days, that meant having my affairs in order at all times and adhering to a certain mindset. At age 60, it means never missing an opportunity to say, "I love you." It means forcing myself to be more generous, accepting back pain to help a neighbor with heavy lifting, and simply being present for those I care about. It means being prepared to LIVE every day.
Dear Ms. Botton: Thanks for Oldster. You're doing great work.
This stream of thoughts shines beautifully in its drying ink. Thank you for sharing. Happy Birthday! It’s easy to tell The 60s Club is going to be your best ever. ❤️
My new group identification at age 80 is “old”. I don't mind the tag, but I do mind how it is defined. “Old” seems to mean that a vintage individual is fairly useless, not especially with it, and always moaning about something. A lot of people are apparently unfamiliar with the newer “old” models, the growing number of mature folks who are alert, aware, able, and competent. As a group we need better PR, and the generations following us need to update their LLMs to reflect the new realities of aging.
I'm 80 too and therefore "old" as well. But how can this be since I'm a member of The Pepsi Generation? For those of you who don't know, we taught "the world to sing / in perfect har-mo-ny." [Insert your comment or sound effect here.]
I have loved my sixties and seventies. I feel more at home in my own skin. I’m no longer falling prey to cultural demands to perform femininity. I have been teaching for over fifty years and it is a joy to see my students all grown up and successful. From this vantage point, I realize that I still have mentorship to offer to young writers. I’ve learned a few things; I can help them get over obstacles more readily. The only downside to being almost eighty and in this particular body is that I no longer see myself as strong physically. I’ve climbed mountains, carried heavy packs into the backcountry while skiing, done heavy domestic chores, traveled alone, all with a sense of endurance. Those days are gone. I miss my stronger self. But I also accept it and seek out what I am capable of.
I, too, miss my stronger self. At 64, I’ve given up back country skiing and rock climbing. I’m still rowing rivers and skiing downhill. I can still go backpacking as long as I walk slowly. It’s astonishing to look at maps and see places I used to go. How was I able to walk so far? I feel a sense of urgency to row as much as possible before I can’t.
Me, too, this resonates, I miss my stronger self and it has been hard to realize I can't do a trip as planned because it involves not only walking stamina but going up and down without handrails, and with the hip replacements and arthritis in other joints, feels like taking a risk for me that I no longer can afford to take.
I just turned 60 in January. A year ago I left a job I thought I’d love (and keep until I die), and the leaving brought an unexpected reckoning with my “age and stage.” I never struggled with the physical aspects of aging, but the social and professional aspects have hit me broadside. At first I was gobsmacked that my impressive resume didn’t open every door I approached; then I was enraged that I had become invisible. But slowly I set about a practice of noticing things: my reduced anxiety; my ability to survive on reduced income; my joy at governing my own time; my (re)discovery of love for reading and writing. All of this took me by surprise—profoundly so—and now I think this is the favorite age-and-stage I’ve experienced so far. What a blessing to recognize and delight in my own worth instead of wanting (needing?) recognition from a title or salary or boss.
Me too (64). A parting “gift” from my employer was basically a kick in the teeth to punish me for standing up to an abusive workplace situation. I lost a lot of social capital and professional identity all at once. I’m not at your stage of acceptance.
Thank you. Of course I have a self that wasn’t connected to work, but the catastrophic end of my work life feels like getting divorced after a 30 year marriage. I had a lot of myself invested, but it’s a fact that work doesn’t love you back.
It IS a fact--one that really sucks!! Yes, it feels like a divorce, with all the second guessing and auto-gaslighting. Nobody prepares you for the trauma.
I’m really enjoying my 70s. It’s my favorite decade to date. I feel “full of light, deep, strong, and magical” (which is my vision for my 70s).
It’s cool to be a tribal elder/grey eminence, I very much appreciate both being able to offer my wisdom/experience/expertise to help others, and to have the patience and curiosity to learn from others.
I'm so glad you asked. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, as I've only recently had a second mastectomy after many rounds of chemo and the subsequent hair loss and temporary brain loss, etc., and it would have been easy to say to hell with it, where's that rocking chair? But it looks like I'm not built that way. What I've come to see in myself, at 88 years old, is that I've been given a second chance and I'm finally wise enough to throw caution to the wind and take full advantage of it.
At 88 I own two publications on Substack that I keep going at a somewhat irregular pace, but it's my pace and I'm loving what I'm doing--even when I'm railing against the regime until my hair--if I had any--threatens to ignite. At Constant Commoner, with the highest number of subscriptions, we talk about politics and aging and grieving and life in general. At Writer Everlasting we talk about our creative lives. How as writers we need each other. How we need those writers who came before us. How it's all about confidence when it isn't about working hard to say what we want to say.
At 88 I live the way I want to live, which is by myself, still driving, even long distances, still delighted to wake up each morning looking forward to what the day brings. There are limits of course--I'm 88! But I'm doing things I never thought I would be doing at this age. Yesterday I tackled the setup of my new Mac Neo--my first Apple product so I was warned about a learning curve. At first it seemed so daunting I almost sent it back. But then I went to YouTube to see what the setup would look like, and I knew I could do it. My thought whenever something seems too hard is, "Millions of other people have done this. I can do it, too." And I did it. I bought a Bluetooth mouse (hate that touchpad thingy) and found out I could transfer almost everything from my PC, which I did. And it works! (I'm typing on it right now.)
It's not that I'm smart, it's that I've learned over time to take advantage of the resources available to me. In most cases now it's the internet. A veritable treasure trove! It teaches, it guides, it inspires, it can be irritating as hell, and it can lie (so be careful). But I'd advise every Oldster to learn to use it. They can do it. They just have to believe they can do it.
So many assume that old people know nothing about computers, but many of us have been around computers since MS-DOS. I bought my first computer when Windows first came out. When Prodigy arrived we could talk to each other! So it was no going back from there.
Because I too am 88, I thought for a moment your post was mine. Then I realized it wasn’t. But reading it reminded me of the courage of my late wife Fran who survived four major episodes of cancer over the course of 30 of our 32 years together. She loved life just as you in whatever form it took. In her case not in Internet but in direct connection with other people. She was a social worker and a patient in the same hospital—often at the same time. But it doesn’t matter how it’s expressed. It’s her passion to live that kept her going. Like yours.
You must have wonderful memories of your life together. Good for you for writing a book to preserve them and to share them. And good for you for ignoring your (our) age and just going for it. Of course we can do what we do. Age has nothing to do with it. 😉
I like this stage except the illnesses that crop up more and losing some very dear friends and family. But I am more confident about who I am--my talents, quirks and weaknesses. I know better how I want to spend my time--choosing writing work I love, having a 39-year writing partner to work with on many projects--we're a well-oiled machine, keeping a smaller tight circle of friends, whom to spend time with--on my own and as a couple, reading more, watching TV more to unwind, cooking less though I used to but who cares as much about food and focusing more on spirituality and my religion, which has been a surprise how much it now matters. I use the goal of "good enough" rather than a search for perfection now. Finally, I no longer let the Mom-isms from my mom rule my choices, but boy did that take a long time.
And another big yes! At 71 to add to your comments I do not care about what others think of me. And for those I love, I love them even more fiercely and yet bear witness versus intervening/fixing etc. my relationships have improved greatly.
At 64, my confidence has never been higher. I can't remember the last time I was intimidated by a person or by being in a certain room. If I could freeze this age I would. I hope I feel the same way in years to come.
Well said, David. I recently found myself cowering in the presence of someone I’ve always found “scary,” and then I reminded myself of how far I’ve come, and how much stronger I am now, and I stopped cowering.
I'm 68 now and totally agree with your being old enough to just say no. This concept started hitting me in my 50's. So needless to say I completely pick & choose my friends, pets, and anything that I want...I earned it! So thank you for a free Friday! (I still think getting old is the worse thing that's ever happened to me!!!)
I am 87. My partner of twenty years left me during Covid for a woman half his age — 42. Sadly, it is neither a new story nor an unusual one. The relationship did not last once she realized he did not have the wealth to support her expectations.
Several years later, I see it as a lucky escape. I am free to live entirely as I please. I have built a wonderful new circle of friends — necessary, perhaps, because many of my old friends have passed away. Many of these new friends are homosexual men, and they have given me a warmth, loyalty, and affection I often lacked in my romantic relationships.
How has getting older affected your sense of yourself or your identity?
I had extraordinary success as a textile designer and trend forecaster. My Paris studio, Trend Union, was named by Time magazine as one of the best in the world.
Yet my relationships with men were often difficult — a familiar story for many successful women of my generation. Men admire talented women, but many expected a wife to care for them, the children, and the home, rather than pursue an ambitious creative life of her own.
Was there a particular age at which your self-concept shifted? What do you suspect influenced those shifts?
My self-confidence deepened after writing my memoir, Technicolor Dreamin’ in her own fashion. A memoir about fashion, music, poetry, and art in the 1960s and 70s, and the extraordinary people I encountered. But also about how society itself changed during those years — how much freer and more open the world became, especially for women.
Writing was unquestionably therapeutic for me. It gave me the feeling that I was enough.
Later, after being abandoned by my companion, I wrote another book, Bewitched and Be Ditched. Writing it helped me understand why I had repeatedly chosen emotionally unavailable men. We often blame ourselves, but sometimes our families shape those wounds very early. Artists create partly to heal themselves.
To be born female and told that women did not deserve education was painful enough. But to be rejected by one’s family for refusing the limited role assigned to women was even more devastating. I was fortunate to be strong enough to survive being abandoned by my parents at seventeen.
Do you like who you’ve become as you’ve gotten older?
Yes, I do. I have become less critical and more accepting. At the same time, it is difficult to accept the attempts to reverse the progress women have made.
Still, I believe deeply in women. I do not think women will willingly return to being second-class citizens or become submissive and obedient to husbands as many were expected to be before the 1960s. I believe women will continue defending the rights they fought so hard to gain.
Of course, I was shocked that so many educated American women voted for Donald Trump.
Are there aspects of your identity as an older person that you don’t like?
Health issues are difficult to face, and I prefer not to discuss them publicly. When I need answers, I look for them on google. That is enough for me.
My advice is simple: eat organic food, eat well, take your vitamins, exercise, walk often, spend time with friends, and do not drink too much. Life can still be beautiful — especially when one lives in Europe, with good healthcare and cultivated, educated friends who share similar interests and values.
I am shocked to be 80. It's something I've ACHIEVED. It's also sheer luck. And FINALLY it's more important to be aware of how I regard others than how they regard me. One more "and" — regardless of the low probability of publication, I'm trying to fulfill my adolescent promise as a writer. As the Sondheim song goes, I'm still here!
You're right. I also try to tell people that a big part of aging well is luck—walking away from an accident, not getting some hideous disease, etc. There is much unearned for which to be thankful.
I've been thinking about this so much. I was reading an article on wellness talking about mid-life and I realized we need a category: old-life. Not like elder, or old or third third. Old-life is a whole phase - somewhere between retirement and decripitude. This phase is active and engaged - but there is a shift -priorities are often different, body energies are different, transitions from activity to activity are different. In mid-life I would push past my resistance to a task or call myself "lazy." Now, I've learned that "rest" is actually a task. I also have experienced some writing and publishing success in my 70's. My creative energies are blooming - but I'm not feeling anxious about it (as opposed to midlife -where I often had anxious energy). I love talking about this!
I have been thinking about this so much as well Ginny. What is this time of life and what is it called? Not a quantification or a body stage - but it feels like that time of now…between now and a more formal parting. For some reason I’ve recently (having just turned 73 ) felt a bit unmoored and so I’ve loved reading these comments - and paused to respond here.
Hi- I totally agree with your comments today about finding greater peace and happiness with yourself as you age. I just want to add that at your age of 60(per Google), I can tell you you’re not “old”. I’m 75 and am just starting to realize that I’m probably old. I have arthritis everywhere, use a walker, and see multiple doctors to put out various fires in my body. But, I workout every day and have gotten leaner and stronger in my 70’s. I was in some of my best shape at your age having just had a hip replacement and started at the gym. I look back fondly at my early 60’s. Life’s a little harder now, but my goals are more focused.
Incredible that despite all you’ve dealt with, you keep working to get stronger, and it’s working. PS By the way, Oldster isn’t so much about “old people” as it is about getting older, where every you are in life. So I (the person behind this publication) might be a different degree of oldster, but I’m still an oldster in my own way, and within my own experience getting older.
Today is my 60th birthday, I just rolled out of bed and made coffee, and this will be a stream-of-consciousness free-writing exercise. Bear with me, if you will.
It feels as though I crossed a sort of border upon waking this morning. Not because I'm 60, but because, coincidentally, someone I love of the same age received a dire cancer diagnosis last week. As I observe this milestone for that dear person and myself, I'm forced to confront mortality in a new way, by witnessing the suffering of someone very close.
I was a soldier for 23 years. I participated in two Middle Eastern combat operations--fewer than many service members, but sufficient for the purpose of working in the presence of people trying to kill one another and living with the concept of violent death striking without warning. When I returned, physically intact, I was as relieved as one might imagine, but also surprised. I'd had a couple of close calls, and I lost a couple of friends.
Like so many returning from war, I wondered, "Why did I make it, when Brian and Sid didn't?"
I realized that whatever was going to kill me, it wouldn't be war. That sense of a new "lease on life" led me to reevaluate everything. I left my stagnant first marriage. I went to graduate school and instead of becoming a "tie guy" (a retired soldier who trades the uniform for a shirt and tie to work for the Defense Department) I focused on writing and editing to keep the lights on.
When love struck like a bolt from the clear sky a few years later, I remarried. And as my partner and I age together, each after previous 20-year marriages, my identity as a warrior has receded far behind and seems foreign to me, like a life read about in a novel. Those memories are fresh, but they no longer define my identity.
My sense of myself is defined these days by love, family, and challenging myself to be kind, make a difference in my community, create something beautiful whenever possible, and stay healthy. I speak and stand for democracy, and against the corrupt authoritarianism we're now forced to endure in America.
I'm still running a few miles every other day around Winston-Salem, North Carolina. My wife and I take our bikes out to Salem Lake to ride the trails. We hike in the mountains and visit the ocean. We wear our well-worn skins comfortably.
As I grieve for the struggle my loved one with cancer faces, my sense of my own identity is evolving into willing acceptance of a new kind of service to those around me. How much time to I have? Will I get sick too, or live to a truly ripe old age? The uncertainty isn't so different from that of living in a combat zone, only perhaps less...immediate.
So, as an older person, I have a duty to stay as strong and healthy as possible, for as long as I can, to be here for our now-grown children making their way in an exceedingly difficult world. I'm not what I once was physically, but I can still stand in protest to cruelty and corruption. I can loudly advocate for the democracy I served for so many years. And if it comes to it, I remember how to resist oppression in more direct ways. I can advise, I can teach, and I'm still strong enough to act.
So, I suppose my current sense of myself, or my identity, is that I have much to contribute.
I spend time learning, writing, cultivating a garden, loving family and friends, and trying to maintain a certain level of self-discipline going forward.
Miyamoto Musashi, a renowned Japanese swordsman, strategist, artist, and writer, famous for his undefeated record in 62 duels and for founding the Niten Ichi-ryū style of swordsmanship, wrote in THE BOOK OF FIVE RINGS, that one should
"Be prepared to die every day."
Back in my paratrooper days, that meant having my affairs in order at all times and adhering to a certain mindset. At age 60, it means never missing an opportunity to say, "I love you." It means forcing myself to be more generous, accepting back pain to help a neighbor with heavy lifting, and simply being present for those I care about. It means being prepared to LIVE every day.
Dear Ms. Botton: Thanks for Oldster. You're doing great work.
Wow wow wow. Thank you for this, Steven. And for the kind words about Oldster. Happy 60th!
🙏🏻🙌🏻“Simply be present for those I care about.”
Happy Birthday Steven. And many more. Thank you for this generous and inspiring comment, and sending strength to your friend. #rolemodel
Happy Birthday 🍰!!
I agree with Musashi’s quote, and I may shift it to “be prepared to live” everyday.
This stream of thoughts shines beautifully in its drying ink. Thank you for sharing. Happy Birthday! It’s easy to tell The 60s Club is going to be your best ever. ❤️
Wow! Really lovely, Steven. Your words left me floating in a place without too many words, but plenty of admiration. Thank-you.
My new group identification at age 80 is “old”. I don't mind the tag, but I do mind how it is defined. “Old” seems to mean that a vintage individual is fairly useless, not especially with it, and always moaning about something. A lot of people are apparently unfamiliar with the newer “old” models, the growing number of mature folks who are alert, aware, able, and competent. As a group we need better PR, and the generations following us need to update their LLMs to reflect the new realities of aging.
I'm 80 too and therefore "old" as well. But how can this be since I'm a member of The Pepsi Generation? For those of you who don't know, we taught "the world to sing / in perfect har-mo-ny." [Insert your comment or sound effect here.]
Yes, except that was a Coke commercial! :)
Same poison - LOL.
100%
Me too! The Pepsi Generation slogan was Come Alive - we certainly did.
Certainly you survived it! I’ve never liked the stuff!
It can’t be the preservatives in Pepsi?
I have loved my sixties and seventies. I feel more at home in my own skin. I’m no longer falling prey to cultural demands to perform femininity. I have been teaching for over fifty years and it is a joy to see my students all grown up and successful. From this vantage point, I realize that I still have mentorship to offer to young writers. I’ve learned a few things; I can help them get over obstacles more readily. The only downside to being almost eighty and in this particular body is that I no longer see myself as strong physically. I’ve climbed mountains, carried heavy packs into the backcountry while skiing, done heavy domestic chores, traveled alone, all with a sense of endurance. Those days are gone. I miss my stronger self. But I also accept it and seek out what I am capable of.
I, too, miss my stronger self. At 64, I’ve given up back country skiing and rock climbing. I’m still rowing rivers and skiing downhill. I can still go backpacking as long as I walk slowly. It’s astonishing to look at maps and see places I used to go. How was I able to walk so far? I feel a sense of urgency to row as much as possible before I can’t.
I feel a sense of time running out to see as much of the world as I can. 😕
Yes, I feel like I am racing against time, too. Trying to just do everything I’ve wanted to before the world implodes.
Me, too, this resonates, I miss my stronger self and it has been hard to realize I can't do a trip as planned because it involves not only walking stamina but going up and down without handrails, and with the hip replacements and arthritis in other joints, feels like taking a risk for me that I no longer can afford to take.
<3
The only part about aging that really frustrates me is losing physical strength....
I just turned 60 in January. A year ago I left a job I thought I’d love (and keep until I die), and the leaving brought an unexpected reckoning with my “age and stage.” I never struggled with the physical aspects of aging, but the social and professional aspects have hit me broadside. At first I was gobsmacked that my impressive resume didn’t open every door I approached; then I was enraged that I had become invisible. But slowly I set about a practice of noticing things: my reduced anxiety; my ability to survive on reduced income; my joy at governing my own time; my (re)discovery of love for reading and writing. All of this took me by surprise—profoundly so—and now I think this is the favorite age-and-stage I’ve experienced so far. What a blessing to recognize and delight in my own worth instead of wanting (needing?) recognition from a title or salary or boss.
Me too (64). A parting “gift” from my employer was basically a kick in the teeth to punish me for standing up to an abusive workplace situation. I lost a lot of social capital and professional identity all at once. I’m not at your stage of acceptance.
I hope acceptance—of yourself, in all its messy glory—comes with time, Amy! xoxo
Thank you. Of course I have a self that wasn’t connected to work, but the catastrophic end of my work life feels like getting divorced after a 30 year marriage. I had a lot of myself invested, but it’s a fact that work doesn’t love you back.
It IS a fact--one that really sucks!! Yes, it feels like a divorce, with all the second guessing and auto-gaslighting. Nobody prepares you for the trauma.
Yes, no one prepares you.
I’m so sorry to hear you went through that.
I identify so much with this. You are not alone.
I’m really enjoying my 70s. It’s my favorite decade to date. I feel “full of light, deep, strong, and magical” (which is my vision for my 70s).
It’s cool to be a tribal elder/grey eminence, I very much appreciate both being able to offer my wisdom/experience/expertise to help others, and to have the patience and curiosity to learn from others.
I had no idea being old would be so fun.
I like “tribal elder” and “gray eminence”.
You're free to adopt them! ;-)
I'm so glad you asked. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, as I've only recently had a second mastectomy after many rounds of chemo and the subsequent hair loss and temporary brain loss, etc., and it would have been easy to say to hell with it, where's that rocking chair? But it looks like I'm not built that way. What I've come to see in myself, at 88 years old, is that I've been given a second chance and I'm finally wise enough to throw caution to the wind and take full advantage of it.
At 88 I own two publications on Substack that I keep going at a somewhat irregular pace, but it's my pace and I'm loving what I'm doing--even when I'm railing against the regime until my hair--if I had any--threatens to ignite. At Constant Commoner, with the highest number of subscriptions, we talk about politics and aging and grieving and life in general. At Writer Everlasting we talk about our creative lives. How as writers we need each other. How we need those writers who came before us. How it's all about confidence when it isn't about working hard to say what we want to say.
At 88 I live the way I want to live, which is by myself, still driving, even long distances, still delighted to wake up each morning looking forward to what the day brings. There are limits of course--I'm 88! But I'm doing things I never thought I would be doing at this age. Yesterday I tackled the setup of my new Mac Neo--my first Apple product so I was warned about a learning curve. At first it seemed so daunting I almost sent it back. But then I went to YouTube to see what the setup would look like, and I knew I could do it. My thought whenever something seems too hard is, "Millions of other people have done this. I can do it, too." And I did it. I bought a Bluetooth mouse (hate that touchpad thingy) and found out I could transfer almost everything from my PC, which I did. And it works! (I'm typing on it right now.)
It's not that I'm smart, it's that I've learned over time to take advantage of the resources available to me. In most cases now it's the internet. A veritable treasure trove! It teaches, it guides, it inspires, it can be irritating as hell, and it can lie (so be careful). But I'd advise every Oldster to learn to use it. They can do it. They just have to believe they can do it.
I love your tech savvy at 88.
So many assume that old people know nothing about computers, but many of us have been around computers since MS-DOS. I bought my first computer when Windows first came out. When Prodigy arrived we could talk to each other! So it was no going back from there.
So inspiring!
Ramona
Because I too am 88, I thought for a moment your post was mine. Then I realized it wasn’t. But reading it reminded me of the courage of my late wife Fran who survived four major episodes of cancer over the course of 30 of our 32 years together. She loved life just as you in whatever form it took. In her case not in Internet but in direct connection with other people. She was a social worker and a patient in the same hospital—often at the same time. But it doesn’t matter how it’s expressed. It’s her passion to live that kept her going. Like yours.
I’m writing a book about her now.
All the best,
IE
You must have wonderful memories of your life together. Good for you for writing a book to preserve them and to share them. And good for you for ignoring your (our) age and just going for it. Of course we can do what we do. Age has nothing to do with it. 😉
🙏🏻🪷
I like this stage except the illnesses that crop up more and losing some very dear friends and family. But I am more confident about who I am--my talents, quirks and weaknesses. I know better how I want to spend my time--choosing writing work I love, having a 39-year writing partner to work with on many projects--we're a well-oiled machine, keeping a smaller tight circle of friends, whom to spend time with--on my own and as a couple, reading more, watching TV more to unwind, cooking less though I used to but who cares as much about food and focusing more on spirituality and my religion, which has been a surprise how much it now matters. I use the goal of "good enough" rather than a search for perfection now. Finally, I no longer let the Mom-isms from my mom rule my choices, but boy did that take a long time.
Yes to all of this. It is amazing how long it can take to truly know ourselves and turn the volume down on certain voices.
And another big yes! At 71 to add to your comments I do not care about what others think of me. And for those I love, I love them even more fiercely and yet bear witness versus intervening/fixing etc. my relationships have improved greatly.
Sweet.
At 64, my confidence has never been higher. I can't remember the last time I was intimidated by a person or by being in a certain room. If I could freeze this age I would. I hope I feel the same way in years to come.
Well said, David. I recently found myself cowering in the presence of someone I’ve always found “scary,” and then I reminded myself of how far I’ve come, and how much stronger I am now, and I stopped cowering.
At 88, I’ve dropped the word “intimidation” from my vocabulary. I haven’t replaced it with arrogance—merely with comfort. I yam who I yam. 🤷🏼♂️
I'm about to turn 65, Monday. This could be my favorite age. I'll let you know!
Happy birthday, Jennifer!
Yay for Medicare!
But it's more expensive than the employer-based insurance and just when lots of people have less income. It should be free!
Lol. Who’da thought?
Congratulations and Happy Birthday!!!
Thank you--I'm actually looking forward to it.
Who’s getting older? 🤷🏼♂️
I read “Oldster” for the pictures.
😂 Thank you for the laugh, Irwin.
I'm 68 now and totally agree with your being old enough to just say no. This concept started hitting me in my 50's. So needless to say I completely pick & choose my friends, pets, and anything that I want...I earned it! So thank you for a free Friday! (I still think getting old is the worse thing that's ever happened to me!!!)
Here’s a “yes” to saying “no.” :)
How old are you?
I am 87. My partner of twenty years left me during Covid for a woman half his age — 42. Sadly, it is neither a new story nor an unusual one. The relationship did not last once she realized he did not have the wealth to support her expectations.
Several years later, I see it as a lucky escape. I am free to live entirely as I please. I have built a wonderful new circle of friends — necessary, perhaps, because many of my old friends have passed away. Many of these new friends are homosexual men, and they have given me a warmth, loyalty, and affection I often lacked in my romantic relationships.
How has getting older affected your sense of yourself or your identity?
I had extraordinary success as a textile designer and trend forecaster. My Paris studio, Trend Union, was named by Time magazine as one of the best in the world.
Yet my relationships with men were often difficult — a familiar story for many successful women of my generation. Men admire talented women, but many expected a wife to care for them, the children, and the home, rather than pursue an ambitious creative life of her own.
Was there a particular age at which your self-concept shifted? What do you suspect influenced those shifts?
My self-confidence deepened after writing my memoir, Technicolor Dreamin’ in her own fashion. A memoir about fashion, music, poetry, and art in the 1960s and 70s, and the extraordinary people I encountered. But also about how society itself changed during those years — how much freer and more open the world became, especially for women.
Writing was unquestionably therapeutic for me. It gave me the feeling that I was enough.
Later, after being abandoned by my companion, I wrote another book, Bewitched and Be Ditched. Writing it helped me understand why I had repeatedly chosen emotionally unavailable men. We often blame ourselves, but sometimes our families shape those wounds very early. Artists create partly to heal themselves.
To be born female and told that women did not deserve education was painful enough. But to be rejected by one’s family for refusing the limited role assigned to women was even more devastating. I was fortunate to be strong enough to survive being abandoned by my parents at seventeen.
Do you like who you’ve become as you’ve gotten older?
Yes, I do. I have become less critical and more accepting. At the same time, it is difficult to accept the attempts to reverse the progress women have made.
Still, I believe deeply in women. I do not think women will willingly return to being second-class citizens or become submissive and obedient to husbands as many were expected to be before the 1960s. I believe women will continue defending the rights they fought so hard to gain.
Of course, I was shocked that so many educated American women voted for Donald Trump.
Are there aspects of your identity as an older person that you don’t like?
Health issues are difficult to face, and I prefer not to discuss them publicly. When I need answers, I look for them on google. That is enough for me.
My advice is simple: eat organic food, eat well, take your vitamins, exercise, walk often, spend time with friends, and do not drink too much. Life can still be beautiful — especially when one lives in Europe, with good healthcare and cultivated, educated friends who share similar interests and values.
Love that you reframed it as an escape. And love all the rest you’ve written here. Thanks for sharing.
I am shocked to be 80. It's something I've ACHIEVED. It's also sheer luck. And FINALLY it's more important to be aware of how I regard others than how they regard me. One more "and" — regardless of the low probability of publication, I'm trying to fulfill my adolescent promise as a writer. As the Sondheim song goes, I'm still here!
You're right. I also try to tell people that a big part of aging well is luck—walking away from an accident, not getting some hideous disease, etc. There is much unearned for which to be thankful.
It’s also about perseverance and good lifelong habits!
Yes, true!
Love all of this, Elena. Thank you.
I've been thinking about this so much. I was reading an article on wellness talking about mid-life and I realized we need a category: old-life. Not like elder, or old or third third. Old-life is a whole phase - somewhere between retirement and decripitude. This phase is active and engaged - but there is a shift -priorities are often different, body energies are different, transitions from activity to activity are different. In mid-life I would push past my resistance to a task or call myself "lazy." Now, I've learned that "rest" is actually a task. I also have experienced some writing and publishing success in my 70's. My creative energies are blooming - but I'm not feeling anxious about it (as opposed to midlife -where I often had anxious energy). I love talking about this!
Fantastic.
I have been thinking about this so much as well Ginny. What is this time of life and what is it called? Not a quantification or a body stage - but it feels like that time of now…between now and a more formal parting. For some reason I’ve recently (having just turned 73 ) felt a bit unmoored and so I’ve loved reading these comments - and paused to respond here.
On the eve of my 62 birthday, I can only say that I feel everything more.
Yes! Happy almost birthday, Staci.
Thank you Sari!
Hi- I totally agree with your comments today about finding greater peace and happiness with yourself as you age. I just want to add that at your age of 60(per Google), I can tell you you’re not “old”. I’m 75 and am just starting to realize that I’m probably old. I have arthritis everywhere, use a walker, and see multiple doctors to put out various fires in my body. But, I workout every day and have gotten leaner and stronger in my 70’s. I was in some of my best shape at your age having just had a hip replacement and started at the gym. I look back fondly at my early 60’s. Life’s a little harder now, but my goals are more focused.
Incredible that despite all you’ve dealt with, you keep working to get stronger, and it’s working. PS By the way, Oldster isn’t so much about “old people” as it is about getting older, where every you are in life. So I (the person behind this publication) might be a different degree of oldster, but I’m still an oldster in my own way, and within my own experience getting older.