This is 66: Novelist Stephanie Gangi Responds to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire

"I’ve gained confidence in my chosen vocation, gained trust in my close relationships, realized that fewer possibilities give me laser focus on what is actual."

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, poet, essayist, and fiction writer Stephanie Gangi responds. - Sari Botton

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Stephanie Gangi at 66. Photo by Elena Seibert.

How old are you?

I just turned 66. 66! Close to the mark of the devil, sigh.

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

I can clearly see myself at 22, and then in my late 40s, and thanks to my conscious presence, I see me at my current age. So I associate myself with 22, 46, and whatever age I am at the moment, which, I guess I have to go with it, is 66.

I don’t think I feel any one age on the inside, I just feel like me, all the ages of me finally integrated.

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

Not at all! I don’t think I feel any one age on the inside, I just feel like me, all the ages of me finally integrated. Or maybe not. I’ll let you know when I’m in my 80s since I seem to be using 20-year increments as touchstones. As far as my peers, I think I’ve gravitated (and cultivated) relationships with like-minded human beings. Having said that, I’ve been through a bit, who hasn’t, and that has given me a singular outlook, and it must be said, wisdom. So no, not “in step,” more like “alongside.”

What do you like about being your age?

What I like about being my age is the “my” part. My current version of me is still open and curious, still learning and growing, still going forth with interest and enthusiasm. That is part of who I am, and what better way to face the foreshortened future! Also, I feel very comfortable with assessing and deciding, whether it’s buying a new set of sheets or taking a new friendship to the next level (or not).

What is difficult about being your age?

It’s exhausting being on the receiving end of clichéd assumptions and expectations about my viability, my power and the place I’ve earned (and will not give up) in society. It’s difficult being devalued with a glance, even by people one doesn’t respect.

On a more personal note, it’s difficult (but imperative) to release expectations and embrace and cherish reality, the dark and the light of it. I assumed I’d be in a Nancy Meyers house on the ocean by now, with a bunch of grandkids making a mess and a much-younger second husband. I’m single, in a NYC apartment, one daughter on the west coast, one in Brooklyn, no grandkids and yet … this is where I am and what I have, which is, I don’t know how to say it … real. Very real and absolutely mine. Not what I “pictured,” but what a glorious youthful delusion, to make a “picture” of the future and believe it will happen.

It’s exhausting being on the receiving end of clichéd assumptions and expectations about my viability, my power and the place I’ve earned (and will not give up) in society. It’s difficult being devalued with a glance, even by people one doesn’t respect.

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

Ha. I assumed that by age 60 I’d have shrunk in size and shrouded myself in head-to-toe black and become an angry crone waving a cane at the world. I do have one little glimmer of that—I’ve turned into one of those upper west side NYC ladies hollering at cars when I have the right of way.

What has aging given you? Taken away from you?

Obviously, aging takes away possibilities. The runway is too short for me to become a neurosurgeon or a sculptor or a rock star. On the other hand, I’ve gained confidence in my chosen vocation, gained trust in my close relationships, realized that fewer possibilities give me laser focus on what is actual. That’s enormously freeing in the way that constraint sometimes is.

This book is wonderful! - Sari

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

Oh, I’ve learned to really see myself. I’ve learned to practice the good parts of my identity and work on dialing down the parts I’m not so in love with. I am so much more intentional as I set forth each day. I’m more conscious of my words and actions and their impact on others. I’m trying to be kinder. Really!

I assumed I’d be in a Nancy Meyers house on the ocean by now, with a bunch of grandkids making a mess and a much-younger second husband. I’m single, in a NYC apartment, one daughter on the west coast, one in Brooklyn, no grandkids and yet …

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?

This is an easy question. My debut novel was published when I was 60, so the whole writing life is something I “missed” for all the previous years. I had a lot, family and home and work, but I’d not valued my first love, writing. After trauma and turmoil and upheavals and heartbreak, I fell in love with it again and went for it in a major way. I’ve now just published novel #2, Carry the Dog (at age 65), and a dozen essays and short stories and poems and I’m working on novel #3. I course-corrected with a vengeance in my late 50s, thank goodness. As I mentioned earlier, I’ve released expectations around “milestones,” and couldn’t care less what the expectations of the culture are!  That’s because I’m an oldster! Hooray!

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

I have one or two regrets but I am an expert at compartmentalizing them or denying that they exist. I don’t dwell on what might have been. But. If I were in a rom-com fantasy, maybe I would go back to my late twenties. I’d prioritize writing over playing sidekick in a marriage. Over everything except my daughters.

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

Nah. I am very focused on becoming my own version of who I admire and respect. That sounds kind of self-absorbed? I spent many years being “other-absorbed” so I’m owning my answer. Having said that, I think Patti Smith, Diane Keaton and Hillary Clinton are killing it.

My debut novel was published when I was 60, so the whole writing life is something I “missed” for all the previous years. I had a lot, family and home and work, but I’d not valued my first love, writing. After trauma and turmoil and upheavals and heartbreak, I fell in love with it again and went for it in a major way.

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

I recently wore a red satin jacket to an event and I did feel a bit conspicuous; what I’m saying is I go for pulled-together but toned-down. I still love jeans and a great shirt and boots, a little bit rock and roll (which comes out in Carry the Dog!). For this same event I put some shiny shadow on my eyelids and “glow” on all the places shown to me by one of the Jenner girls on a YouTube thing. I have stopped coloring my hair. It was blonde and now it’s whitish blonde so I’m saving a lot of NYC-salon money! I spend a fair amount of time trying to look like I am not trying at all.

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

I will never ever become more conservative in my thinking, a common cliché about getting older. If anything, I’ve gotten more progressive, more liberal, more open-minded. I refuse to grouse about music and fashion. I’m not tuning in to the oldies radio stations. I am practically allergic to nostalgia. I wrote an entire novel called “The Next,” not “The Past.”

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

Eh, my birthday is a couple of days before Christmas so I can’t avoid gatherings, and it’s good that I’m still here, relatively healthy, relatively happy, doing what I love, surrounded by excellent friends and brilliant, loving daughters, in a wondrous city. I’m pretty much stoked to celebrate anything, to be honest.

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Stephanie Gangi is a poet, essayist and fiction writer. Carry the Dog is her second novel. Her acclaimed debut, The Next, was published by St. Martin’s Press. Gangi’s shorter work has appeared in Arts & Letters, Catapult, Dame, LitHub, Hippocrates Poetry Anthology, McSweeney’s, New Ohio Review, Next Tribe, The Woolfer. She lives in New York City, where she is at work on The Good Provider, her third novel.