On Turning 60

I didn’t bat an eye when I turned 30, despite the opinion of younger people that you were over the hill after 30. It didn’t faze me at all.

I didn’t flinch or go into shock when my 40^th birthday came, even though my younger friends teased me quite severely. By that time I had been married with two daughters and divorced, and married for the second time. This time, it took. We will celebrate our 25^th anniversary this summer.

I was given a party at a gathering of college buddies complete with a lot of black stuff, including the cake, when #50 came around, but I hardly noticed, and went merrily on my way.

Last October, I observed my 60^th birthday. No party or big celebration, or even a wake. It was just another birthday, a quiet one with my wife, son and daughter (#3).

I’m not having any psychological trauma because of this milestone. I’ve taken it in stride, just like the other “decadennial” marks as they came and went. I don’t feel “old.” I don’t look 60, and God knows I don’t act it (I hope).

I’m more in a state of disbelief than anything else. It just doesn’t seem possible that I have been alive for 60 years.

When I was a 20-something year-old youngster, people who were over 60 were old people. My grandfather, my father, and my father’s older brother never made it to 70. There was a perception that life was almost over at 60 or so. Still, I was unaffected by crossing this boundary.

A few years ago at a high school reunion – the 40^th, I think – some of the alums put together a list of things younger than we were. Television, particularly color TV, of course, was on the list, as was stereo sound, microwaves, CDs, VCRs, 8-track tapes, etc. But I remember one especially: penicillin.

In the decades following its development, penicillin was a wonder drug. Most of us sort of assumed that it had come over on the Mayflower with the Pilgrims. It was a real surprise that it wasn’t developed until after our class members were born. That claim, however, turned out to be incorrect. Alexander Flemming first developed penicillin in 1928 (and published his findings in 1929), but it was perfected in the early 1940s, and Flemming was one of three scientists to receive the 1945 Nobel Prize in physiology and medicine for his discovery. The other scientists were Howard Florey and Ernst Chain.

But I digress.

Another of those things that kind of boggles the mind is that I have known the couple who became my neighbors across the street when we moved here three years ago for 40 years. He ran a rock band, and I joined that band in 1964 or 1965, and she was a gorgeous former Miss West Virginia. Obviously, there are people I have known longer than 40 years. But the idea that it was 40 years ago when I was first attending college and playing music and getting paid for it just doesn’t seem right.

These days, when someone I grew up with or knew many years ago passes on it really makes an impression. Several months ago, in the span of just three weeks, four of my former schoolmates died. A lot of former schoolmates are already gone, and some were very young when they died. A fair number of people with whom I played in bands also are no longer with us. And some of them were younger than I am, and most of them died before they reached 60.

So while I go merrily on without suffering over this latest birthday, still unable to conceive that I can possibly be as old as I am, I have started to think a bit differently about things. Although I’ve always been healthy, I’m starting to think more about taking care of myself. Watch what I eat a little, and maybe drink more thoughtfully, although I’m not a heavy drinker. Get a little more purposeful exercise, and get checkups more often.

I’ve set my goal for 120 years, which means I’m just now middle-aged. And despite my grandfather, father and uncle passing at just a few years older than I am now, my paternal grandmother lived to 106, my great grandfather was 88, and my great uncle was 89. And my dad’s three remaining brothers are not far from 80. So I’ve got some longevity on my side, too.

With a little good fortune, maybe I’ll see 120.