This is 66: Author Cynthia Newberry Martin Responds to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire

"It’s like having another shot at being in my 20’s, only this time without a child and without a job and with almost zero 'supposed to’s' in my way."

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 Cynthia Newberry Martin responds. -Sari Botton

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Cynthia Newberry Martin at 66.

Cynthia Newberry Martin's first novel, Tidal Flats, won the Gold Medal in Literary Fiction at the 2020 Independent Publisher Book Awards and the 14th Annual National Indie Excellence Award for Fiction. Her second novel, Love Like This, was published in April of 2023. Her third novel, The Art of Her Life, was published on June 6th. On her website and now on Substack, she publishes the How We Spend Our Days series, over a decade of essays by writers on their lives. She grew up in Atlanta and now lives in Columbus, Georgia, with her husband, and in Provincetown, Massachusetts, in a little house by the water. 

How old are you?

24,144 days. Which doesn’t sound like that many. I would have thought 66 years old would be millions and millions of days.

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

Not any specific age, just younger. BUT ONLY because a person who is 66 sounds like an old person. Therefore, I must be younger.

And yet, I love aging. My parents were huge influences in my life—I could hardly see past them—and I was slow to carve my own path. Every day, I’m more me, and what David Bowie said is exactly right: “Aging is an extraordinary process where you become the person you always should have been.”

Ever since I turned 57, I’ve been telling anyone who will listen how old I am. I want to say, See, it’s not bad. It’s great. I think “old person shame” comes from not talking about it. So, let’s shout out those ages.

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

I actually feel just right. It’s only my mind that rebels at the number. Also, I had no idea 66 would feel so amazing, so much the same as 30. But it’s all about health, and I feel a tremendous gratitude for mine. Ever since I turned 57, I’ve been telling anyone who will listen how old I am. I want to say, See, it’s not bad. It’s great. I think “old person shame” comes from not talking about it. So, let’s shout out those ages.

Sometimes, though, first thing in the morning, or if I stay in one position too long, I’m a little stiff. And I don’t spring up off the floor anymore. I get down there, and I get back up, but no springing. Which feels old-ish.

The author at 19, in 1976.

What do you like about being your age?

It’s way more freedom than I’ve had at any other age. And so few responsibilities. It’s like having another shot at being in my 20’s, only this time without a child and without a job and with almost zero “supposed to’s” in my way, and I did let them get in my way.

What is difficult about being your age?

Only one thing but it’s huge—knowing that even if all goes well, so few years are ahead of me. I’m now closer to 80 than to 50, which is insane. And the truth is, not many people make it through their 80’s. I’ve googled life expectancy. Did you know the longer you live the more years they give you?

Every day, I’m more me, and what David Bowie said is exactly right: “Aging is an extraordinary process where you become the person you always should have been.”

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

I was never told anything about being 66.

My fun grandmother wore housecoats, was glued to her duplex, and cooked all the time. The highlight of her days appeared to be having her grandchildren visit. I remember her saying, “I don’t feel 80; I feel just the same.” My other grandmother, my father’s mother, brushed her teeth right after dinner so she wouldn’t eat anything else. She was the weird one according to my mother; her husband died young, and she traveled all the time with her friends. She took me to Europe when I was ten. I just did the math. She would have been 60. I never realized that. So it wasn’t just that no one told me anything; I didn’t notice or care enough to ask. And all along I’ve had a grandmother who was out seeing the world in her sixties.

As far as surprises, this year I seem to bruise or even break the skin every time I casually knock into something, which is constantly. I’ll see a trail a blood and think, you’ve got to be kidding me. I took ten years of ballet, which did no good at all—although my mother used to say, just think what you would have been like without it.

Left, at 10 in 1967; Right, at 6 in 1963.

What has aging given you? Taken away from you?

Aging has given me everything really—myself and my freedom and the knowledge that it’s not about this moment but all moments. Also, I feel a sense of power and strength I never had before. A solidness.

It’s taken away whatever “cuteness” I used to have and thank goodness. Also, estrogen, moisture, a working thyroid, perfect vision, but not my optimism.

I haven’t yet used aging as a reason I can’t do something. But I’m aware of that possibility sitting out there, and I find myself doing things to see if I still can—like running a mile. As of May 2023, I still can. When I turned 57, I wrote about what my days were like. And again at 58 and 60 and 65. I like to check in periodically. I’m trying to pay attention, and I want to know when aging changes things.

I’m constantly scoping headlines for the ages of people I admire—Margaret Atwood turning 83 and still writing; Judi Dench making another movie at 88; and Joni Mitchell…battling back from an aneurysm to sing on stage last year at 78….

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

Aging has expanded my sense of self. Until my early 40’s I was only moving forward. Then I started feeling as if there was more to me than the forward movement. In January of 2001, when I was 43, I read Mary Gordon’s The Rest of Life and was able to put words to what I was feeling.

“She sees that she has before her an important task: to understand that all the things that happened in her life happened to her. That she is the same person who was born, was a child, a girl, a young woman, and now she is old. That there is some line running through her body like a wick.”

I took this task to heart, and in 2017, during the 60 days leading to my 60^th birthday, I spent one day with each of my years, looking at photos and remembering all I could about that one year of my life.

Now in addition to forward, I reach back. And I suspect there might be a sideways movement I’ll discover if I live long enough. Maybe it’s not a process of becoming myself but of coming into myself.

This is me. This is 66.

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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?

For a number of years, decades even, I looked forward to becoming 100. But then my father got Alzheimer’s, and an age milestone no longer seemed like a good idea. What I’ve done with the freedom of aging is to use it to create days I love. I look forward to each one. And, I look forward to being myself for as long as I can and to moving around in the world for as long as I can.

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

19 was so freaking good. My god, that summer I was on top of the world. I spent it in Quebec City speaking French all the time, getting to know a new place, hitchhiking everywhere because of a mass transit strike, taking classes at Laval University, going to outdoor concerts every week, hanging around with a much older and super sexy Quebecois. Would I go back? Hmmm… A few years ago, I might have said yes, but unexpectedly, now I don’t find myself jumping for that option.

For a number of years, decades even, I looked forward to becoming 100. But then my father got Alzheimer’s, and an age milestone no longer seemed like a good idea. What I’ve done with the freedom of aging is to use it to create days I love. I look forward to each one.

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

No one in real life. Before my father got sick, I would have said him. For years and years, he would meet me at the door telling me how many consecutive days of exercise he had. Or when I would ask how it was going, he would say, “Well, I woke up this morning.” But Alzheimer’s is not a good way to go. And my mother, in response to caregivers in the house, holed up in her bedroom.

Because of this void, I’m constantly scoping headlines for the ages of people I admire—Margaret Atwood turning 83 and still writing; Judi Dench making another movie at 88; and Joni Mitchell, her long, long hair like spun gold and wearing a blue beret and sunglasses, battling back from an aneurysm to sing on stage last year at 78, to yet again shine her self out to the world, and her wonderful laugh after she sang “Both Sides Now” at (I imagine) the joy and victory of the moment.

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

In younger days, I used to ignore all the twinges and aches and force myself to power through. These days, I listen to my body. And as of the last few years, I no longer walk down the stairs putting on a shirt, or doing anything else for that matter. It’s possible I’ve stopped wearing sleeveless shirts and dresses, but maybe not. I’m back to strength training, which I stop periodically because of those twinges.

Order Cynthia Newberry Martin’s new novel.

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

I refuse to slow down. And I still eat like a child—candy, Tater Tots, pizza. Also, I haven’t worn makeup on a regular day in over a decade.

And I refuse to waste my time going back home after I exercise to take a shower and “dress” before I grab lunch. I always thought that at some age I would grow up about that. But no, I still sit at a table to eat a salad or a sandwich—sweaty and in shorts—surrounded by grown-ups in real clothes with brushed hair.

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

I celebrate at every opportunity, birthdays included. For my 50^th, my husband and I relaxed in Belize. And for my 60^th, we hiked in Newfoundland. And for my 66^th this year, which was four days before the launch of my second novel with four events in four different states in five days, my husband made me a devil’s food cake with my fun grandmother’s 7-minute icing—which was my favorite cake as a child.