This is 64: Harriet Brown Responds to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire

"I’m keenly aware of the fact that I’m in the last part of my life, however long or short it turns out to be, and I’m not sure what story to tell myself about that."

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, author and professor Harriet Brown responds. -Sari Botton

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Harriet Brown near Cooperstown, NY, recently

Harriet Brown is a Professor of Magazine, News, & Digital Journalism at the S. I. Newhouse School of Public Communications, and a sought-after speaker on college campuses around the country. She has written for the New York Times Science section, the New York Times Magazine, Wired, O Magazine, Psychology Today, Scientific American, and other publications. Her most recent book is Shadow Daughter: A Memoir of Estrangement (Da Capo, 2018). She has also written Body of Truth: How Science, History, and Culture Drive Our Obsession with Weight—and What We Can Do About It (Da Capo, 2015) and Brave Girl Eating: A Family’s Struggle with Anorexia (William Morrow, 2010).

How old are you?

64. 65 in October.

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

I recently realized that I often relate to people in their 30s as if we were peers, going through the same things, at the same moment in our lives. I have to stop and remind myself that they see me as more their parents’ age (or grandparents?). So I guess I’d say around 32, which coincidentally is the age when I became a mother.

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

Some days I feel old for my age, like when my back is acting up. Most days I feel younger than 64. Like, I can’t believe that’s my age! My friends who are in their 60s all say the same thing. I think we’re all in the same boat.

I recently realized that I often relate to people in their 30s as if we were peers, going through the same things, at the same moment in our lives. I have to stop and remind myself that they see me as more their parents’ age (or grandparents?).

What do you like about being your age?

I love having a little bit more gravitas and wisdom. Most situations that come up are familiar to me in one way or another and I have a sense of how to handle them. Very few things feel utterly new or alien. I also love, at this point in my life, having not just the impulse to mentor younger people but the ability to do it reasonably well. I love that the things I say often seem to matter to them. I also love not caring much about what other people think of my appearance most of the time. I’ve earned this gray hair and these wrinkles and I actually think they look good!

Left, Brown at 2 in 1960 with her father; Right, Brown at 32 in 1991 with her then 8 month old daugther.

What is difficult about being your age?

It’s really tough watching more and more of my friends and family get sick, get old, and die. And of course knowing it will be my turn at some point, and who knows when. Could be tomorrow, could be 30 years from now.

I also have had the sense of struggling some to come up with a narrative about this part of life. I’m keenly aware of the fact that I’m in the last part of my life, however long or short it turns out to be, and I’m not sure what story to tell myself about that. I’ve always been a future-oriented person, but you can’t be that way in your 60s, or at least I can’t. For one thing, you don’t know what that future will bring; of course that’s true for all of us at any time, but it becomes more true the older you get. For another, you know that some of what it brings is going to be hard—sickness, grief, loss. How do you frame that for yourself? When the great science editor and poet David Corcoran was dying of leukemia at 72, he posted what was essentially a good-bye message, saying he’d had an extraordinary life and was grateful for every second. That’s how I’d like to feel, but I’m not quite there yet.

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

I’m surprised by the failures of my body—the knee that needed replacing, the hip injury that limits walking and dancing and cycling, the funky heart rhythm that wakes me in the night. Somehow I thought I’d avoid all that. Ha.

I’ve always been a future-oriented person, but you can’t be that way in your 60s, or at least I can’t. For one thing, you don’t know what that future will bring; of course that’s true for all of us at any time, but it becomes more true the older you get. For another, you know that some of what it brings is going to be hard—sickness, grief, loss. How do you frame that for yourself?

What has aging given you? Taken away from you?

I spent most of my childhood and young adulthood having one panic attack after another, in a time when there were no words for this, no treatments, at least not in my family. The one or two times I tried to tell my parents how I felt they just told me to buck up and stop thinking about things. So for me, hitting adulthood meant getting agency over my life in some fundamental ways. I’ve lived with panic disorder for almost 60 years, and that experience has given me the patience to know that however bad things feel in this moment, they will get better. Eventually. And that I have the power to make changes in my life.

It's taken from me the same things it takes from all of us: The perspective of myself as the center of the universe (thank goodness!). The sense of a limitless future, which makes me impatient with time-wasting bureaucracy. I can definitely be a cranky old lady. My love of dancing—I still love it but various physical limitations have made it impossible recently, though I do hope to get back to it.

Brown, center, at 23 in 1981. Pictured with two friends she remains close with.

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

Losing that sense of yourself as The Most Important Person in the World is a powerful shift in identity, and of course a good one. I’m less sure of myself and my beliefs. As Bob Dylan famously wrote, “I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now.” Meaning the older I get the more humbled I feel by the vast eclecticism of the world and the people in it.

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?

At this age I can’t say I’m looking forward to any more milestones. Lots of my friends are retiring these days, and bugging me about when I might retire. I have no interest in that. I love my students and feel like I’m still pretty close to the top of my writing game. That could all change in a heartbeat, of course, but for now I’m warding that one off.

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

My 30s were a really good time in many ways. Would I go back to them, though? Probably not, because it would mean living through my 40s again.

I’ve lived with panic disorder for almost 60 years, and that experience has given me the patience to know that however bad things feel in this moment, they will get better. Eventually. And that I have the power to make changes in my life.

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

Lots and lots of people age well and I look up to al of them. My father, who wasn’t much of a role model in most ways, is probably my biggest idol in this regard. He survived the death of my mother, after nearly 60 years of marriage, and a major stroke three years later that cost him much of his ability to speak, see, and read. He never complained and was rarely grumpy about any of it. He showed me how to accept even catastrophes with grace and humor.

Order Harriet Brown’s books.

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

Honestly not too many. I’ve never been into beauty because I’ve never been beautiful in the socially constructed sense of the word. For the last 30 years or so my makeup routine has consisted of dark green eye liner and occasionally red lipstick, and I don’t see that changing. I have considered getting the eyeliner tattooed on, just to save me the hassle of applying it, but I probably never will. I exercise more now than I did in my 20s, 30, or 40s, but out of a sense of enjoyment rather than duty.

Losing that sense of yourself as The Most Important Person in the World is a powerful shift in identity, and of course a good one. I’m less sure of myself and my beliefs. As Bob Dylan famously wrote, “I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now.” Meaning the older I get the more humbled I feel by the vast eclecticism of the world and the people in it.

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

I will never stop riding my bicycle.

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

Celebrate them all—you’ve earned them! I often throw a small party, invite people in and enjoy the feeling of being among friends. It’s one of the deep pleasures of this world.