Happy Birthday to Me!

Today is my 61st birthday. I made it through 60, which was not as traumatic as I thought it would be. I had moments where I felt like I aged overnight (and apparently, we go through an ‘aging spurt’ at age 60). Most of the time, though, I thought “Oh, yeah. I don’t have to worry about that anymore. I’m old.”

I plan to spend this birthday quietly. Going to work, checking Facebook for birthday wishes, going out to dinner at a steakhouse. My birthday present is a mug that says “Coffee? What about second coffee?” a la ‘second breakfast’ in Lord of the Rings.

I am hoping for a good day, as I always request from the universe: “… a good day, a productive day, a day where I do what You want me to.”

People My Age

From radio to playlist

It is said that people in general do not develop new musical taste after their mid-thirties, and continue to listen to the music they listened to when younger. In other words, someone my age should only be listening to the Oldies station, with music from the 60’s through the 90’s (and yes, it’s frightening to me that the 90’s are considered oldies).

My husband and I seem to be exceptions. First, we introduced our favorites to each other, so he became immersed in folk rock and I in classical. Second, our musical tastes have expanded because I love listening to musicians with reputations of being groundbreakers and avant-garde performers. Before Itunes, these weren’t accessible to me because I didn’t like prowling through record stores (ah! vinyl!) and hated to buy a whole album as an experiment. With today’s technology, I have a world of music in front of me.

Sometimes I do listen to the oldies. Right now I’m listening to an 80’s singer-songwriters playlist, and I recognize most of the songs. In 1981, I would have been starting college, and in 1989 I was in the middle of my PhD program. But I’m just as likely to listen to Brian Eno or Erik Satie or Ludovico Einaudi or some electronica.

Places to go

This is where I might be a little more stereotypical. My husband and I have favorite places we like to go — Kansas City, Starved Rock State Park. But we do go new places too and try new food — oh, we always try new food. We haven’t been on a cruise (nor do we intend to go on one) so we don’t have that senior destination in mind. We do want to go on that big ferris wheel on Navy Pier in Chicago (at least I want to; not sure about Richard.)

I guess we’re not that settled

We’re somewhat settled — after all, we’re not skydiving or bungee jumping (although indoor skydiving in on our list). But we still want to try new things, which makes us still somewhat young for our ages. I’ll take it.

Looking Toward Sixty

Nothing to see here, move along

I don’t know if I have anything new to say. I’m teaching classes and they’re going pretty well. I’m avoiding my next novel in favor of some advertising stuff I need to do. I’m hopefully losing weight (SLOWLY). I turn 58 in two weeks —

That’s it, isn’t it? A year closer to sixty.

Close to Sixty

Do I feel close to 60?

My body — well, that feels old. I’m out of shape and my right knee is oh, so messed up.

My mind? I feel 40, only with a lot more memories than I should have. In fact, it’s only when I think of my memories that I feel old in my mind. Like when I think of old technologies — dial phones, vinyl records, 8-track tapes. Or when I think of pasting Plaid Stamps from the A&P into a booklet to redeem, or going to a real ice cream parlor at the little pharmacy right in town. Was it a better time? No, it definitely wasn’t. It was a time of enforced conformity, one I didn’t fit into. I guess I’m not so old that I see my childhood in sweet sepia tones.

What about myself as a sexual being? That’s not a problem, except that I still find myself attracted to younger men (about 30 years old at this point) and any fantasies in that direction seem ludicrous.

From the outside

I get mixed information from the outside, somewhere between “You’re not almost sixty!” and “When are you going to retire?” The latter comes from my colleagues, because the MOSERS retirement plan I’m in would pay for retirement already. (The reason I don’t is because the University no longer funds health insurance for retirees during the medicare gap.)

Retirement dreams

I know what I’d do if I retired now — I’d go full-steam into my retirement career. And nap a lot. I’d sit in the coffeehouse and write. I’d relax. I wouldn’t miss work at all. If I could retire now, I would, and it wouldn’t make me feel any older.

But for now, I’ll work, and remember what it was like to be younger, and make little fuss about the passage of time.

The glory of age

I sit in my writing chair, keenly mindful of the leaves outside which have turned, brilliant colors we don’t usually associate with wisdom and aging. Exuberance, we think, is for the young and for their springtime. yet the flames of the trees in fall should remind us that those of us who have grown older have our own glory.

Today is my 55th birthday.

I don’t know what to think about that.

Turning 40 didn’t faze me — it felt no different than the year before. I had just gotten tenure, and I felt like I was at the top of my game.

Turning 50 didn’t faze me — it felt little different than being 40. I didn’t know what all the fuss people made about turning 50 was about.

At age 55, though, I suddenly feel like I have entered into the world of Advancing Age. That’s why 55 bothers me — it’s the age at which “matronly” replaces “sexy”. The age at which I could retire early if I worked at something more lucrative than professoring. The age at which I could join the Red Hat — oh, wait, that was five years ago, something I conveniently forgot. I am officially a ma’am, no longer a MILF (Ok, fine, I never was).

But the thing that really drove my advancing age home to me was that I am finally eligible for Senior Discounts. At no age previously has someone tried to attach the word “senior” to my existence. As long as I felt 35 at age 40, or 40 at age 50, my actual age didn’t matter. But now I can say “I’d like the senior breakfast” and not get carded.

That’s what really makes me feel old. Not that I mind the discount, but …