This is 46: Maggie Smith Responds to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire

"My kids joke that I’m not like the other moms. But what does that mean exactly? I’m a poet, my arms are covered with tattoos, my nose is pierced, and I like my music constant and fairly loud?"

From the time I was 10, I’ve been obsessed with what it means to grow older. I’m curious about what it means to others, of all ages, and so I invite them to take “The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire.”

Here, acclaimed poet and memoirist

Maggie Smith

responds. -Sari Botton

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Maggie Smith at 46.

Maggie Smith is the award-winning author of You Could Make This Place Beautiful, Good Bones, The Well Speaks of Its Own Poison, Lamp of the Body, and the national bestsellers Goldenrod and Keep Moving: Notes on Loss, Creativity, and Change. A 2011 recipient of a Creative Writing Fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts, Smith has also received several Individual Excellence Awards from the Ohio Arts Council, two Academy of American Poets Prizes, a Pushcart Prize, and fellowships from the Sustainable Arts Foundation and the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts. She has been widely published, appearing in The New York Times, The New Yorker, The Paris Review, The Nation, The Best American Poetry, and more. You can follow her on social media @MaggieSmithPoet.

How old are you? 

46 

Is there another age you associate with yourself in your mind? If so, what is it? And why, do you think?  

On one hand, I feel my age. On the other hand, it seems impossible that I’m 46 and my parents are in their 70s; I still think of my parents as being in their 50s, though I don’t at all feel twenty years younger myself. I suppose this is a roundabout way of saying that my age only catches me off guard when I think of myself in relation to other people in my family. How are my younger sisters in their forties, too? What happened? It makes me wonder—do other people experience that, too?

When I imagined growing older and raising my kids, I pictured myself married, and in my mind’s eye we’d be doing all of this together. Growing up, and even pre-divorce, I never saw myself being a single parent at 46. But here we are.

Do you feel old for your age? Young for your age? Just right? Are you in step with your peers?

Physically I feel just right for my age, but mentally I suppose I might feel a little younger? It’s sort of like height: I think of myself as being taller than I actually am (I always go to the back row in group shots before being kindly shuffled back to the front), and I probably see myself as being just a few years younger than I actually am, too. My kids sometimes joke with me that I’m not like the other moms. But what does that mean exactly? I’m a poet, my arms are covered with tattoos, my nose is pierced, and I like my music constant and fairly loud? It’s not like all of the other neighborhood moms look and behave like Donna Reed, but I get their point.   

What do you like about being your age?

I like how well I know myself at 46. I accept that I’m not for everyone, and I’m not contorting myself—as a person or as a writer—to be something I’m not. I’d like to say that at my age I don’t care at all about what people think of me and I don’t take shit from anyone—but alas, we’re all works in progress, so what I can say is that I care less about what people think of me than I did 20 or even 10 years ago, and I take less shit. That’s not nothing.

Left, Smith as a toddler. "Thanks, Olan Mills."; Right, Smith at 15.

What is difficult about being your age?

I don’t love the physical aspects of aging. I can admit that. This thing the skin around my mouth is doing, and my extremely dry eyes, and the onset of migraine in middle age? No thank you.  Frankly I didn’t appreciate my body in my teens or 20s, before I had children and back when I had the metabolism of a hummingbird. I have very few pictures of myself from my 20s—cameras required film back then!—so to be honest, I don’t even remember that body clearly. I know I wanted to be thinner and tanner (ugh, the 90s) and less freckly. I wanted different hair, different hips, and different knees. It sounds ridiculous now. That young woman was beautiful as is. I have to remind myself—I’ll never be younger than I am in this moment, so I should appreciate what I have.

In my new memoir, I describe people as nesting dolls. Inside each of us is all of the iterations that came before; inside present me is the person I was last year, and ten years ago, and even when I was a child…I try to honor and make space for all of the people I’ve been.

What is surprising about being your age, or different from what you expected, based on what you were told?

I always thought I’d be more “settled” at this time in my life. When I imagined growing older and raising my kids, I pictured myself married, and in my mind’s eye we’d be doing all of this together. Growing up, and even pre-divorce, I never saw myself being a single parent at 46. But here we are. 

What has aging given you? Taken away from you?

It’s given me confidence, strength, and more power than I was willing or able to claim when I was younger. It’s taken away time, of course, and some aspects of health. I’ve lost some dreams along the way, but I’ve also found new ones. 

Order Maggie Smith’s memoir.

How has getting older affected your sense of yourself, or your identity?

In my new memoir, I describe people as nesting dolls. Inside each of us is all of the iterations that came before; inside present me is the person I was last year, and ten years ago, and even when I was a child. I don’t think we lose any of these earlier versions of ourselves, we just carry them with us. I think about that a lot now, and I try to honor and make space for all of the people I’ve been. I don’t think I could have done that even a decade ago.

I’d like to say that at my age I don’t care at all about what people think of me and I don’t take shit from anyone—but alas, we’re all works in progress, so what I can say is that I care less about what people think of me than I did 20 or even 10 years ago, and I take less shit. That’s not nothing.

What are some age-related milestones you are looking forward to? Or ones you “missed,” and might try to reach later, off-schedule, according to our culture and its expectations? 

I can’t say I’m looking forward to any age-related milestones. I’m self-employed, so there’s no retirement. I’m divorced and 46, so I won’t have a golden wedding anniversary. My children will eventually graduate and leave the nest, and I do look forward to that, but not for myself—I’m excited for them. I’m looking forward to continuing to age because it means I’m continuing to live—to experience things, to spend more time with people I love, to travel, to write more books. No milestones, really, just more life.

What has been your favorite age so far, and why? Would you go back to this age if you could?

There isn’t a specific age I would call my favorite or that I’d want to go back to for more than a quick visit. I loved my childhood, but I don’t want to be a child again. You couldn’t pay me to be a teenager again—the Stridex pads! the algebra! the unrequited crushes!—so that’s off the table. I loved the freedom of my 20s, but I was also a pretty fearful, anxious person at that time in my life, so I’ll skip a repeat of that. I loved my 30s, when my kids were babies, but that was also a difficult and demanding time, so once was enough. I’ll take living here and now, even with its difficulties.

Left, Smith in 1999 at 22; Right, Smith in the summer of 2019 Seattle at 42.

Is there someone who is older than you, who makes growing older inspiring to you? Who is your aging idol and why?

Hmmm. I’m thinking of the writers, artists, and musicians who just keep getting better, and who keep making things that thrill and surprise me. When I think of what an “aging idol” might be, it’s someone who keeps taking risks, someone who’s curious and open, someone who’s generous with their spirit. Kathy Fagan comes to mind. Every time she publishes a book, it’s somehow better than her last, and she’s an incredibly wise and warm human being.

What aging-related adjustments have you recently made, style-wise, beauty-wise, health-wise?

Aging skin is WILD. My skin is completely different from what it was even five years ago. I always had sensitive, fairly oily skin, but now it’s sensitive and dry. (No more Stridex pads for this face!) So I’ve started using face oils, which my teenage and even my twenty- and thirty-something selves would be shocked by.

I’m looking forward to continuing to age because it means I’m continuing to live—to experience things, to spend more time with people I love, to travel, to write more books. No milestones, really, just more life.

What’s an aging-related adjustment you refuse to make, and why?

I really hate those “dress your age” pieces in women’s magazines—the ones that show you examples of what you should be wearing in your 20s, 30s, 40s, and beyond. In some ways I still dress the same way I did when I was a teenager—jeans, t-shirt, Chucks or Doc Martens or a pair of comfortable flats. (I prefer to walk nearly everywhere if I can.) You’ll have to pry my overalls from my cold, dead hands.

What’s your philosophy on celebrating birthdays as an adult? How do you celebrate yours?

I like cake, so I’m all for celebrating birthdays. In my family, we have Sunday dinner every week at my parents’ house, so whenever one of us has a birthday, we get to choose what my mom makes for dinner. (My birthday dinner in February was baked ziti, salad, and tiramisu for dessert.) I’m not someone who cares much about gifts—that’s not my love language—but I do love to share a meal, talk, and laugh. I think of birthdays as sort of like New Year’s Eve—you’re celebrating the year ahead and how lucky you are that you’re here to experience it.