This is 59: National Book Award Finalist Claudia Rowe Responds to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire
"I like knowing that my opinions are grounded in experience. In that sense, I like the mileage accrued."
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.”
Sometimes you’ll find responses from writers, musicians, and artists you’ve heard of—like Kate Pierson, Neko Case, Rosie O’Donnell, Ava Duvernay, Jerry Saltz, Lucy Sante, Hilma Wolitzer, Elizabeth Gilbert, Judith Viorst, Cheryl Strayed, Deesha Philyaw, Chloe Caldwell, etc.—but more often it will be people (of all ages) you haven’t heard of, Humans of New York-style.
Here, journalist, author, and newly minted National Book Award finalist responds. -Sari Botton
PS If you’re enjoying the work I do here at Oldster, please consider supporting it by becoming a paid subscriber. 🙏
Claudia Rowe has been a journalist for 34 years. In 2017, at age 50, she published her first book, a true-crime memoir called The Spider and the Fly, which won the Washington State Book Award. A native New Yorker, Claudia set out for Seattle in 2003 and is now a member of The Seattle Times editorial board. This year, her second book was published. Wards of the State: The Long Shadow of American Foster Care is a finalist for the National Book Award in nonfiction.
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How old are you?
59
Is there another age you associate with yourself in your mind? If so, what is it? And why, do you think?
I often joke that, on the inside, I’m still the same person I was at 15. I still feel all the anger and outrage that framed that time. I’m more adept at managing it, generally. But it’s still there.
Do you feel old for your age? Young for your age? Just right? Are you in step with your peers?
Depends on who’s defining the norms. I look at pictures of my parents at this age, and I feel so much younger. They sure weren’t wearing Keds high-tops in their 50s. As a kid, I had such a clear vision of what “adulthood” would look like (briefcase, trench coat, well-trimmed hair), and it was nothing like the reality today. I’d say I’m in step with a GenX version of one’s late 50s.
When I was a young reporter, my sources—the experts and people in positions of power—were always older than me, which created some insecurity. Who was I to question people with so much more experience? But now, we’re the same age, or I’m the older one. That changes the balance of power. It puts us on more equal footing. And when you’ve done a certain kind of work for a long time, as I have covering youth issues, people begin to recognize it with respect. In that sense, getting older has definitely strengthened my sense of identity in work.
What do you like about being your age?
The perspective—I think that’s what people call “wisdom.” I like knowing that my opinions are grounded in experience. In that sense, I like the mileage accrued.
What is difficult about being your age?
I do not like the way that mileage has shown up on my body in the form of chronic injuries, slower recuperation, and changes to sleep habits (really can’t remember the last time I slept through the night). The physical realities are humbling (probably a good thing), but also somewhat limiting (not so good).
What is surprising about being your age, or different from what you expected, based on what you were told?
Everything. I don’t think I was told much, at least not explicitly. But it’s certainly different from what I imagined. Mostly better. To my youthful eyes, adults in late-middle age seemed more established than I feel today, but also more brittle, more locked in. We’re lucky to live in a time where these years can be redefined in terms of freedom—the freedom to travel, to reinvent yourself, to put all your hard-won wisdom to use in new ways.
What has aging given you? Taken away from you?
Aging has given me a bit more patience and a lot more humility. On the other hand, aging—the sense of time passing—has made me more fearful than I used to be. Fearful of consequences I never used to consider. Fearful of decisions that cannot be undone.
I look at pictures of my parents at this age, and I feel so much younger. They sure weren’t wearing Keds high-tops in their 50s. As a kid, I had such a clear vision of what “adulthood” would look like (briefcase, trench coat, well-trimmed hair), and it was nothing like the reality today. I’d say I’m in step with a GenX version of one’s late 50s.
How has getting older affected your sense of yourself, or your identity?
When I was a young reporter, my sources—the experts and people in positions of power—were always older than me, which created some insecurity. Who was I to question people with so much more experience? But now, we’re the same age, or I’m the older one. That changes the balance of power. It puts us on more equal footing. And when you’ve done a certain kind of work for a long time, as I have covering youth issues, people begin to recognize it with respect. In that sense, getting older has definitely strengthened my sense of identity in work.
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?
The idea of retirement always perplexed me. Why did it seem to be this finish line glowing in the distance? To me, it looked like death. Nor did I understand why older people seemed to travel so much—my parents did, my grandparents too. But I get it now—what a great opportunity to broaden your knowledge about this fantastic and fascinating planet. That makes the idea of the retirement milestone somewhat more interesting. As a writer, I don’t know that I’ll ever truly retire, in the sense of not working. But I’m definitely thinking about what my life might look like when I finally leave the newsroom.
What has been your favorite age so far, and why? Would you go back to this age if you could?
My college years were beautiful—romantic and free, kind of a fantasy. My late 40s were pretty great too. I had a little boy and my first book contract. It was a thrilling time. But would I go back? Nah, in some important ways, even in the face of hardship, my favorite age is now. I care less about meeting outside expectations, and that is a huge relief.
I do not like the way that mileage has shown up on my body in the form of chronic injuries, slower recuperation, and changes to sleep habits (really can’t remember the last time I slept through the night). The physical realities are humbling (probably a good thing), but also somewhat limiting (not so good).
Is there someone who is older than you, who makes growing older inspiring to you? Who is your aging idol and why?
I’d like to have Helen Mirren’s physical confidence and Albert Einstein’s sense of playfulness and discovery. But I can’t really call either an idol. The person who deserves that mantle is a Seattle painter named Jennifer Carrasco who, after a career as a muralist, moved into an assisted living facility and promptly published a book of poetry, giving readings, wowing everyone. She has not let aging steal one iota of her creativity and drive. I don’t admire many folks, but I am in awe of her.
What aging-related adjustments have you recently made, style-wise, beauty-wise, health-wise?
I’ve had to admit that the ways I used to keep myself healthy and in shape—with minimal effort—no longer work. Which means I’ve befriended looser clothes and dressing for comfort much more than style.
What’s an aging-related adjustment you refuse to make, and why?
I still own, and wear, at least one item of clothing from the mid-1980s, a summer blouse. So I guess I’ve refused to concede that a 59-year-old woman can’t wear clothes from high school.
What turn of events had the biggest impact on your life? What took your life in a different direction, for better or worse?
Deciding at age 37 to leave the Hudson Valley and strike out for the West, where I knew no one, changed my life 180 degrees. Many thought it ill-advised—I had no job and no clear plan—but it turned out to be the best move of my life. I figured out who I was as a writer and learned what it means to build a family. Everything I am today is rooted in that bold move.
Aging has given me a bit more patience and a lot more humility. On the other hand, aging — the sense of time passing — has made me more fearful than I used to be. Fearful of consequences I never used to consider. Fearful of decisions that cannot be undone.
What is your number one regret in life? If you could do it all over again, what is the biggest thing you’d do differently?
I wish I’d known much earlier that it’s okay to be alone, to go your own way. I wish I’d walked away from destructive relationships faster, wasted less time and saved myself significant psychological bruising.
What is high up on your “bucket list?” What do you hope to achieve, attain, or plain enjoy before you die?
I’d like to fill in some gaps in my sense of the wider world. It’s a magical planet we live on and that’s easy to forget when you’re wrapped up in building a career. So I’d like to see more of Earth—the pyramids, for instance, and Africa. I’d like to write at least one more book. And I’d like to live in a little cottage by the sea.
Is there a piece of advice you were given, that you live by? If so, what was it, and who offered it to you?
“If you do work you love, it’s never work.” My dad used to say that, and I think there’s real truth to it. Also, in Anthony Bourdain’s first book, Kitchen Confidential, there’s a passage to the effect of “If I were hit by a bus right now, would I feel satisfied with my life?” I think about this all the time and try to live accordingly.
The idea of retirement always perplexed me. Why did it seem to be this finish line glowing in the distance? To me, it looked like death. Nor did I understand why older people seemed to travel so much—my parents did, my grandparents too. But I get it now—what a great opportunity to broaden your knowledge about this fantastic and fascinating planet. That makes the idea of the retirement milestone somewhat more interesting.
What are your plans for your body when you’re done using it? Burial? Cremation? Body Farm? Other?
I’d always imagined cremation. But recently, I read that it might add further garbage to the environment, so I need to do more research. I like the idea of disintegrating into the stuff of life, the air, the earth.
How do you feel about dying? And what do you expect to happen to your “soul” or “spirit” after you die?
I like to think that my spirit will somehow become part of the cosmos. Do we come back around again? Probably not on the same human plane. But I do feel that a person’s energy continues on, in some ineffable way.
What’s your philosophy on celebrating birthdays as an adult? How do you celebrate yours?
I try to release expectations and remain open to whatever happens. I admit that I have maintained this admirably Zen posture exactly zero times. I aspire to be one of those people who celebrate themselves on their birthdays, not waiting for friends or family. Someday, I’m going to do that too.
"I wish I’d known much earlier that it’s okay to be alone, to go your own way. " Love Love Love. Here for this Fleetwood Mac reference!
Thanks, ladies! Claudia, I love your directness and curiosity.
And though 59 seems young to me now, I’d say you’re creating a great foundation for a marvelous third act.