Been there, done that and hell, I don’t really know. Being in my 70s is no different than being in my 60s. On a good day, I could even throw in the 50s.
Where I do feel a difference —a big difference actually, is mentally. I just can’t seem to wrap my head around this aging thing. Inside, I feel the same as I’ve always felt. (don’t laugh) Mentally, I’m eighteen. Yet outside, by society’s standards, I guess I’m a senior citizen.
Keep in mind, this is coming from a lady who admits, she doesn’t sit around thinking and worrying about how old she is and when she’s going to die. I’m fully aware of my real age and I’ve accepted that death is the last page of the last chapter of living.
We were each given the same gift of a lifetime when we were born. No one knows how long or short that will be. I’ve packed a lot of living in my gift and I’m happy with how it’s going. But wouldn’t you think how old I feel inside and how old I look outside would be closer together?
Hang on. Let me see if I can come at this from a different direction …
Here is something from our high school graduation back in 1967. It was held in our high school auditorium/gym. As I went in to find my seat the day of the ceremony, I remember seeing a couple of rows of really old people already seated in the back.
As the ceremony began, our principal introduced our elderly guests as the Graduating Class of 1917. They were in town to celebrate their 50th class reunion. I remember thinking, “Oh my God, they’ve been out of high school for fifty years? No wonder they all look so ancient!
In comparison, we had our 50th reunion back in 2017. I’m almost positive we didn’t look as old as those people in the last two rows at our graduation … or … did we?
Last week, I got an email from our class president saying the planning committee is already looking for volunteers to get our 60th reunion off to a good start. It’s right around the corner. There’s a band to hire, restaurants and motels to work out group rates with, daytime activities to plan and several mailings to be done ...
W a i t! I’m still reeling mentally here. I just can’t seem to wrap my head around this aging thing. I don’t feel older, yet I guess I am. Those folks in 1967 couldn’t have been more than 68, or so, and yet they looked … older than the trees! Our 60th is almost here? Ho-ly Shit. That should tell me something. Do I look that ancient on the outside, even if I don’t feel that old on the inside?
I ask you, because it’s impossible for me to find out. When I look in a mirror, there’s a stubborn old lady in there and she won’t move over so I can see ME …
Published Poet/Writer/Author of 5 books.
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I just turned 61, I don't feel old. I still lift weights 4 days a week (I can still squat 300 pounds), cut and stack my own firewood, dig holes and build outbuildings and fences and am probably more active now than I was in my forties. I have a bit more joint pain and a lot less hair, but I agree with the immortal Jack Lalanne...age is just a number!
I graduated high school a year before you and I have another birthday coming up in June. I’ll close out one year and begin another. I don’t FEEL old, though.