This is 66: Brenda C. Wilson Responds to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire

"I admit that when my Medicare card arrived in the mail, I stood at the mailbox and reread my name a couple of times. I was astounded that the card was really for me."

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, banking and finance executive Brenda C. Wilson—who writes novels on the side—responds. -Sari Botton

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Brenda C. Wilson, 66.

Brenda C. Wilson in her own words: I grew up in rural Alabama with six siblings. We were ‘country poor’ in a town of less than 400 people with one caution light. We grew up surrounded by kin with big families like us; we raised our food and attended a two-room elementary school. We were bussed to a central high school in the county seat until integration in 1969. The town has almost disappeared as nearby factory jobs no longer exist and we moved away for college and better jobs. 

Professionally, I work in Banking/Finance. Originally, I planned to be an English major and write the great American novel. Instead, I ended up with two finance degrees and haven’t set the world on fire as an activist. I’ve written three novels and I’m getting closer to what I envisioned. Publishing has eluded me. But I am a great believer in not giving up.

How old are you? 

I’m 66 years old. 

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

Maybe 50 because it is considered such a milestone. I was in India on a work assignment that I volunteered to do. Most people didn’t want to go and I thought, What an opportunity to see a part of the world that was unfathomable growing up. Traveling has given me a different perspective on life and the possibilities. There are still so many places I haven’t been, foods I haven’t tasted, and experiences waiting to happen. 

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

I feel absolutely just right for my age. At this point in my life, I’m no longer struggling to make enough money to survive. I have the necessities in life—I eat on a regular basis and home is a comfortable space. I have never worried about my peers—we must each find our own way. It’s a mistake to compare a life with anyone else’s world. I live with my decisions, good or bad. I try not to put too much energy into the past.

I remember clearly how disinterested I was at my first job’s orientation on benefits. In 1979, I rolled my eyes and thought 2025 was light-years away. And here I am, less than two years away from it. 

What do you like about being your age? 

I admit that when my Medicare card arrived in the mail, I stood at the mailbox and reread my name a couple of times. I was astounded that the card was really for me. I remember clearly how disinterested I was at my first job’s orientation on benefits. In 1979, I rolled my eyes and thought 2025 was light-years away. And here I am, less than two years away from it. 

What is difficult about being your age? 

I’m a single, childless middle-aged woman of color. Culturally, many people don’t think I’m accomplished as a woman, including a few family members because I don’t have children. My accomplishments as a person don’t seem to interest them. I overheard my mother tell a relative that I can’t make a cake. It made me laugh—I don’t own a cake pan; I have a mixer (with a missing beater) left over from a Thanksgiving more than twenty years ago. During COVID, I spent more time at home than ever in my lifetime. I made a few meals and lots of cocktails—lemon drop martinis became my specialty. Layer cakes were not included but tiramisu was added to a few meals as we approached vaccine availability. 

Brenda C. Wilson, then 16, with her sister, in 1973.

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

I deeply feel the absence of people, close kin, friends, and my father who died at age 93. It has been two years since he passed, and I continue to feel that the world is much smaller and quieter without him. A cousin my age, that I grew up with, died during COVID from pancreatic cancer. I never imagined we wouldn’t be little old ladies and travel the world together. 

Growing up, we were never shielded from death or the grieving process. My grandmother and her cronies went to the funerals of people they hardly knew. As a teenager during the summer, I drove my non-driving grandmother to funerals, shopping, or visiting family. She navigated based on having been to all these little community churches, some tucked away on dirt roads. Usually, I found a shade tree to park under and read a book. Afterward, she and her friends would regale me with the details of whether the deceased was put away nicely or not—I knew everyone who was prepared and had burial insurance. 

They grieved for the loss of another human being, sang a song, and maybe even shed a few tears. As an adult, I’ve come to understand the importance of family and community as we bear witness to our own inescapable mortality. 

I’m a single, childless middle-aged woman of color. Culturally, many people don’t think I’m accomplished as a woman, including a few family members because I don’t have children. My accomplishments as a person don’t seem to interest them.

What has aging given you? Taken away from you? 

Being this age or any age, is a gift. I hope I’m wiser than when I was fresh out of college. I’ve lost people my age; the realization of how quickly a life can end continues to shock me. But it has also made me come to terms with making the most out of every day.

Aging and losing people is a powerful reminder to embrace the present. What I have is enough and there’s great joy in coming to that realization. I have thinner hair and skin marked by tiny white spots like distant stars. My dermatologist insists they are sunspots caused by exposure and not using sunscreen. I’m certain we had never heard of sunscreen growing up. But I think of these spots as different constellations forming on my body like Pleiades or Orion. 

Brenda C. Wilson, right, at 15 in 1972, with a friend at the Junior Miss pageant.

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

My self-consciousness has mostly disappeared—I wear what I like and I go places alone that would have terrified me earlier in life. I was a skinny girl with big hair. My first solo traveling experience happened after a writer friend stood me up. Later I found out that she hadn’t even bothered to get a passport. It was her loss I had the most fabulous time of my life. As I get older, I’ve learned to take life in a stride and always have a plan ‘B’. I am no longer friends with that writer. 

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? 

By age 68 I plan to retire from the finance industry and enjoy the freedom of writing. Banking has become less restrictive than when I began but I want to find my unfiltered voice. It is a little frightening not to have the restrictions and the structure of a job. All of my excuses will be gone. I’ll have to confront the blank page every day.

Maybe I’m off schedule with where I had hoped to be with the writing. There are so many family stories I want to tell about people who might be forgotten. My first novel is about a great-aunt who went to prison in the 1940s for sort of a crime of passion. He was cheating at cards; she married three more times and never had children. With certainty, I have learned so very much about the business of writing and the marketing of creative work. 

By age 68 I plan to retire from the finance industry and enjoy the freedom of writing. Banking has become less restrictive than when I began but I want to find my unfiltered voice. It is a little frightening not to have the restrictions and the structure of a job. All of my excuses will be gone. I’ll have to confront the blank page every day. 

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

I don’t think I’ve had a favorite age. But I loved being 20-something with no ties. I could change jobs and move to another city on a whim. It was wonderful not to have a mortgage or furniture and all of the work that comes with ownership. In my 30’s, I finally bought a place and acquired large furniture, which changes how quickly I can uproot and redefine myself.

I have always envisioned my life like Jenny Joseph in her poem, “Warning”:

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple 

With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me. 

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves 

And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.

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

I grew up with my paternal grandmother who loved beautiful dresses with matching shoes and ornate hats. Red lipstick with painted nails was part of her signature look even at home, watching television. I rarely leave the house without lipstick which includes rolling out the garbage can on Tuesday night. 

My grandmother had only sons. Having granddaughters was a great joy for her. My grandfather worked for the railroad, so she took the train to Chicago a couple of times a year, and brought back tons of frilly dresses for me and my sisters. I cried a lot because I found them scratchy; crinolines or can-cans were a big thing to give dresses volume. Finally, my mother understood my need for pockets and pants—my two older brothers had them. 

As we’ve aged, my sisters and I have discovered a love of outrageous hats. Once a year before COVID, we attended a fundraiser luncheon where most of the women (and a few men) wore hats. The bigger the hat, the better. We see ourselves in her image—she would have loved this. 

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

In 2018, I stopped dying my hair. I had always said that I would never dye it in the first place. But my ex-stylist kept encouraging me to color it and I surrendered to the pressure which is so unlike me. I was in Barcelona walking in Olympic Park and I glimpsed my reflection in a window as my hat flew off. There was a woman with dark hair—I never had black hair and it wasn’t very becoming to tell the truth. I have always worn sensible yet beautiful shoes. I love shoes, especially red ones. 

Wilson, standing, at the annual hat show, in 2018.

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

I refuse to wear so-called suitable clothes for women my age. Professionally, my clothing has always been conservative, especially at the beginning of my career, when I couldn’t afford much of a casual wardrobe. I still like tailored clothing for the office and stylish knitwear, booties and leather moto jackets for casual wear. In my 50's, I wore a two-piece swimsuit on vacation with my mother and older sister. To say they were displeased is an understatement. We are a good Southern family and can express righteous indignation without speaking one word. My mother is the queen of side-eye. 

In my 50's, I wore a two-piece swimsuit on vacation with my mother and older sister. To say they were displeased is an understatement. We are a good Southern family and can express righteous indignation without speaking one word. My mother is the queen of side-eye. 

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

January is the cruelest month and I can’t count on the weather to accommodate an outing or a party. The year before COVID, I met a fellow Capricorn at a spa in Sedona. Sometimes I go to dinner with a few close friends, or buy myself one small thing, like a charm to add to my bracelet, or a new teapot to add to my collection. One year, despite the traffic signals being out due to ice on the power lines, I bought one scrumptious red velvet cupcake with cream cheese frosting. All of it comes down to embracing life and finding joy.