Sixty is More And Less

Extrapolations from this title are endless! I challenge you to send me some!

I was struck, without any chagrin, that by 60 you are smaller. This may be true as we do appear to lose length as we age, but we are also not as relevant in the world. We have lived more than half our lives and our opinions and needs are mostly in the rear view mirror.

Younger people listen less to what us oldies have to say because they assume we are behind the curve. We probably are behind their curve at least. We don't readily understand the new technologies taking over how everyone leads their lives. Our grasp of popular culture is tenuous and we can barely name one social media influencer.

If you are sixty and this is not you, congratulations. I deserve the moniker of obsolete because I can't be bothered to catch up on it all. I'd rather play tennis, or watch tennis, or listen to a tennis podcast.

Not bothering to keep up with the trends, however, gives us delinquents more time. Time becomes a precious commodity when you have lived more years than lie ahead. Priorities sharpen: I've recovered time that used to be spent with busy work and spend it in nature. In the morning, as the dogs meander in the grass searching for the perfect spot, I look up at the sky and the tops of trees trying to identify the bird sounds, more insistent now it's Spring. I know the phases of the moon and eagerly search the night sky for constellations.

Mattering less means I have time to do more. The world has fewer expectations and my path for living well is more defined: be kind, do good, play tennis and lay off the red meat. I do draw the line at those spinach, turmeric atrocities.

On the other hand, I don't think I've ever had more pleasure, since a little girl, being with my octogenarian parents. I'm not allowed to say elderly just in case they read this. Perhaps I mean more to them now too. There's no hierarchy any more, simply caring. I can be a better, kinder person to them because I have more time, more empathy, more understanding.

I can listen to my parents' stories because I don't care about MrBeast or have to follow FrumpyLumps (I made that up). But Pop, if you tell me that joke again about the mistress and the spaghetti, I will put the ear plugs back in.