This is 62: Novelist R.L. Maizes Responds to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire.
"When I was younger, I thought 62 was ancient. But now that I’m 62, I think it’s barely middle-aged. Funny how that works."
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, Ricki Lake, 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, , author most recently of the novel A Complete Fiction, published this week, responds. -Sari Botton
PS If you’re enjoying the work I do here at Oldster, please consider supporting it by becoming a paid subscriber. 🙏
“It’s not often you find any type of media celebrating Oldsters, and no one does it better than Sari Botton and Oldster Magazine!” - , paid subscriber.
R.L. Maizes is the author of the newly-released novel A Complete Fiction. Maizes’s debut novel, Other People’s Pets, won the 2021 Colorado Book Award in Fiction and was a Library Journal Best Debut of Summer/Fall 2020. She is also the author of the short story collection We Love Anderson Cooper. Her stories have aired on National Public Radio and have been performed by Stories on Stage. Maizes’s essays have appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post, O Magazine, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, and have aired on NPR. She is a Virginia Center for the Creative Arts Fellow and the recipient of a Fellowship Grant from the Memorial Foundation for Jewish Culture for 2024-2025 for her novel-in-progress. Maizes lives in Niwot, Colorado. Find out more about her at RLMaizes.com.
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How old are you?
62.
Is there another age you associate with yourself in your mind? If so, what is it? And why, do you think?
When I was 10, we lived in New York’s Catskill Mountains. My mother worked and my father was absent. I spent the long summer days entertaining myself and a batch of young cousins. An ardent fan of carnivals and arcades, I built a roulette wheel, a Skee-Ball machine, a coin toss, and other games out of scrap wood, cardboard, and whatever else I could find, and hosted my own summer fair. I’m glad I wasn’t sent to camp that summer, that social media didn’t exist, and that I was left to my own devices. The creative impulse and joy in entertaining other people that I discovered then has me writing novels now.
I finally know what’s important to me: loving the humans and animals in my life, writing, and spending time in nature, which is a spiritual practice for me. I have the opportunity to do all of those now, unlike when I was younger, busier making a living, and confused about what was important.
Do you feel old for your age? Young for your age? Just right? Are you in step with your peers?
I feel young for my age. My hair is primarily brown with two wide grey racing stripes. That said, plenty of people in my adopted city of Boulder, Colorado—where people are fanatical about fitness and the outdoors—act and feel younger. A friend who’s a decade older than me just hiked the Alaska back country. Another who’s only a few years younger passes me as she’s running up mountain trails that I’m slowly hiking.
What do you like about being your age?
I finally know what’s important to me: loving the humans and animals in my life, writing, and spending time in nature, which is a spiritual practice for me. I have the opportunity to do all of those now, unlike when I was younger, busier making a living, and confused about what was important. I struggled with an undiagnosed mood disorder for the first two-thirds of my life. Having a diagnosed one that is controlled with medication is infinitely better.
What is difficult about being your age?
Some of the physical changes, the mysterious aches and pains that don’t keep me from the things I want to do, but are bothersome, nevertheless. The way older women are sometimes regarded as difficult. As a feminist, I fought for women to be seen and heard, and sometimes it seems we succeeded only for younger women.
What is surprising about being your age, or different from what you expected, based on what you were told?
When I was younger, I thought 62 was ancient. But now that I’m 62, I think it’s barely middle-aged. Funny how that works. I saw a woman hiking the other day. She looked old to me; that was what I saw: old, perhaps too old and not fit enough to be doing that particular trail. We met again at the bottom of the trail and chatted. She’d been a pediatrician on a pueblo. She’d spent years doing that. She’d recently moved to Colorado and was investigating the hikes. I was so inspired by her. What I saw then was a person with a fascinating life, who continued to live fully despite certain challenges. It’s surprising to me how even I, as I grow older, can stereotype and put people in boxes.
Another day I got to the trail early. I chatted with a young woman about the hike, which we’d both done before, as she waited for a friend to arrive. When I was leaving, she said, “I hope you’re future me.” I was flattered—sort of? I know she meant she hoped she continues to hike. But she also meant she hopes she continues to hike at my age. During our conversation, I wasn’t thinking about our relative ages, but she was. That is something new, people thinking about me as old when they meet me. I don’t think I like it.
My mother’s sudden death when she was 66 and I was not quite 40 left me breathless and bereft. She’d been hit by a bus walking home from synagogue in Los Angeles. It was inconceivable to me. But her death contained the important lesson that none of us knows how much time we have. I’d always dreamed of being a writer, but I’d put it off. After her death, I realized I couldn’t put it off any longer.
What has aging given you? Taken away from you?
It has given me the understanding that I should give grace to most people, since I hope to receive grace. To be forgiving, because I’ve asked for and needed forgiveness and likely will again. It’s also taught me to pause before anger and ask myself if I have all the relevant information, and if the answer is no, to ask questions. To ask myself if whatever I’m angry or upset about will be important to me in a year or five.
Aging has taken away my sense that anything is possible. My luxury of time. I’m aware that the clock is ticking in a way I wasn’t before. I’m aware of loss, past losses and future ones.
How has getting older affected your sense of yourself, or your identity?
I’m much more intentional about how I spend my time and what I devote attention to now that I have less time and less energy. I think about what is most important to me. I’m more likely to ignore social and professional mores when they serve as obstacles to my goals. Too many structures and institutions operate out of habit and custom without attending to their real purpose, and I have less patience for that.
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 missed having a bat mitzvah when I was 12. I was raised in an Orthodox Jewish community that didn’t celebrate that milestone for girls, although the celebrations for boys’ bar mitzvahs could be elaborate. That’s changed somewhat and I’ve also left the Orthodox community, partly because of the sexism. I don’t practice any religion, though I still celebrate Jewish holidays as part of my cultural heritage and I strongly identify as a Jew. I often think I’d like to have a bat mitzvah, though a very different one than I would have had at 12.
What has been your favorite age so far, and why? Would you go back to this age if you could?
My favorite age has to be 56 because that was when I published my first book. But I wouldn’t go back to it because I learned somewhat painfully the difference between the fantasy of being a published author and the reality, which is far more complicated. I also wouldn’t go back because I know so much more now about writing and the business of writing. When I publish a book, I know what to expect and how to help the book reach audiences, instead of hoping others—publicists and publishers—will take care of all of that.
I saw a woman hiking the other day. She looked old to me; that was what I saw: old, perhaps too old and not fit enough to be doing that particular trail. We met again at the bottom of the trail and chatted. She’d been a pediatrician on a pueblo. She’d spent years doing that. She’d recently moved to Colorado and was investigating the hikes. I was so inspired by her. What I saw then was a person with a fascinating life, who continued to live fully despite certain challenges. It’s surprising to me how even I, as I grow older, can stereotype and put people in boxes.
Is there someone who is older than you, who makes growing older inspiring to you? Who is your aging idol and why?
Recently, at an artists’ residency, I met a visual artist decades older than me. I know it wasn’t easy for her to attend for many reasons, but there she was, creating these spectacular collages and meeting new people. Hearing her talk about her artistic process and her life was fascinating and meeting her was the highlight of my time there. I’m sometimes guilty of clinging to my daily routine or finding excuses not to do things that involve venturing out of my comfort zone. I hope I’m able to engage with the world as fully as she does when I’m her age, or even my age.
What aging-related adjustments have you recently made, style-wise, beauty-wise, health-wise?
I eat much healthier than I did when I was younger. I have to or my body complains. I take better care of my teeth because I want to keep them. I don’t wear shorts as often, though I did just buy a two-piece bathing suit for an upcoming trip. Wish me luck! Though I’m quite active, swimming and hiking regularly, I’m more careful. My bones break more easily and heal more slowly and I always regret the down time.
What’s an aging-related adjustment you refuse to make, and why?
I refuse to dye my hair or have any kind of plastic surgery or other procedures intended to make me look more youthful. I like the gray streaks in my hair. I don’t always love my wrinkles because I’ve been taught that a face with wrinkles is less beautiful than one without, a false teaching though one that’s so pervasive in the culture it’s hard to unlearn. I’ve never worn makeup because I’m unwilling to spend the time some “beauty regimens” require. I’d rather be reading or taking a walk or having a second cup of coffee with my second husband.
What turn of events had the biggest impact on your life? What took your life in a different direction, for better or worse?
My mother’s sudden death when she was 66 and I was not quite 40 left me breathless and bereft. She’d been hit by a bus walking home from synagogue in Los Angeles where she lived. It was inconceivable to me. I’d come from her body and now that body was gone. She was in the prime of her life. She’d recently gathered household goods to help a woman transitioning from a shelter to an apartment; travelled abroad alone and another time with her sisters to Costa Rica where she’d studied Spanish; earned her Psy.D. and started seeing clients. It took years for me to recover, to stop telling people about her death when they first met me, to catch up on all the work it had been impossible for me to do in the immediate aftermath.
But her death contained the important lesson that none of us knows how much time we have. I’d always dreamed of being a writer, but I’d put it off. Maybe out of fear that I didn’t have what it took to write the kind of books I loved. After her death, I realized I couldn’t put it off any longer. I couldn’t say I’d do it later because none of us is guaranteed a later. As for the fear, I acknowledged it without giving in to it. I’ve published three books and am working on a fourth. I’m still striving to write books as beautiful as the ones written by my literary heroes.
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 allowed my first husband to isolate me sometimes, to separate me from my family. I missed spending holidays with my mother who reveled in being a host. When my mother passed away at 66, suddenly and too soon, I regretted not having spent those times with her.
What is high up on your “bucket list?” What do you hope to achieve, attain, or plain enjoy before you die?
The older I get, the more time I feel I need to spend in the mountains. Happily, I live in Colorado and the Rocky Mountains are right here and it’s easy to find a trail and take a walk. I’d like to continue creating as I get older, and to spend more time appreciating art, too.
Although not quite a piece of advice, once when I was describing how ashamed I was of a mistake I’d made, a friend said to me, “You must be one of those human beings.” She was reminding me to be gentle with myself and my imperfections, and since I have quite a few, I’ve repeated that to myself often since. It isn’t meant to exempt me from correcting mistakes, but to reduce the shame I used to feel when I made them.
Is there a piece of advice you were given, that you live by? If so, what was it, and who offered it to you?
Many years ago, I read a novel called The Dive from Clausen’s Pier by Ann Packer. In it, a character comes to understand that just because she can’t do everything for someone that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t or can’t do anything for them. I remind myself of that idea all the time. Especially when a need seems overwhelming. It allows me to re-evaluate the situation to see what I might do to help without feeling that I must fill the entire need.
Although not quite a piece of advice, once when I was describing how ashamed I was of a mistake I’d made, a friend said to me, “You must be one of those human beings.” She was reminding me to be gentle with myself and my imperfections, and since I have quite a few, I’ve repeated that to myself often since. It isn’t meant to exempt me from correcting mistakes, but to reduce the shame I used to feel when I made them.
What are your plans for your body when you’re done using it? Burial? Cremation? Body Farm? Other?
I’ve decided on cremation, but I don’t have strong feelings about it one way or another. I won’t be around to complain. I’m not planning to haunt anyone, though that could change. A cat I lost recently is currently haunting me. And I’ve been haunted by dogs I’ve lost. For a year after the dogs were gone, I heard the flap of the dog door opening and closing, opening and closing. I finally wrote a story about the dogs, and now it’s quiet. Maybe I’ll have to write about the cat.
I gathered my three sisters in Boulder, Colorado, where I live for my 60th birthday for a sister summit. We hiked, ate delicious food, and looked back over the years and laughed, as we always do when we get together. I can’t take credit for the idea of the sister summit. My older sister was the first to host one for her 60th. But I was the first to make hats.
How do you feel about dying? And what do you expect to happen to your “soul” or “spirit” after you die?
I don’t think about dying very often. When I’m close to finishing a book, I begin to worry I might die before it’s finished. I make sure my husband knows where the latest draft is. I’m agnostic and I suspect we become matter when we die, though given the limitations of human knowledge none of us should be certain. The spirit that survives is what we’ve given other people during our lifetimes that has moved or changed them. Love or art—in my case books—that live within them.
What’s your philosophy on celebrating birthdays as an adult? How do you celebrate yours?
I’m a huge advocate of celebrating everything as I get older. Accomplishments, foremost, and milestones, including birthdays. I celebrate with special dinners, gifts, cake, the works. I gathered my three sisters in Boulder, Colorado, where I live for my 60th birthday for a sister summit. We hiked, ate delicious food, and looked back over the years and laughed, as we always do when we get together. I can’t take credit for the idea of the sister summit. My older sister was the first to host one for her 60th. But I was the first to make hats.
I liked this. Being a writer and getting ready to fly from the mountains of Colorado to Virginia to celebrate my 80th birthday next month with my three kids and their families it made me think back to when I was 62 and still going a hundred miles an hour. All I can say is there is a lot of living left to do. Now I find myself feeling a bit rushed to get everything done that I want. Thanks for the good read this early and very chilly Colorado morning.
Those “mysterious aches and pains”. Where do they come from? Where are they going? Does it matter? They disappear when we’re writing. All things become possible. A bat mitzvah at your age? Why not?