Turning 60

I never expected I would see the milestone I’m crossing today. It always seemed like it was over the hill, older than dirt and a carry-over from ancient days. Something I never thought of as applying to me.

You may have guessed already — it’s a birthday. A big one in the eyes of some. I’m turning 60.
But, I don’t feel like 60, and when I look in the mirror, I don’t see 60.

I’m pretty active. I would still play tennis if I had someone to play with. I walk regularly and plan to join a workout gym this year. None of that “sounds” like 60 to me.

I’ve done the math, though. I was born in 1948 and graduated high school in 1966. Yep, I’m 60 alright.

I realize now, what seemed to be soooooo old to me before is not old at all. Am I still middle aged? or am I old? As far as feeling 60, I only have my misguided perceptions of what that would be like, and now I know that was wrong. I’m realizing that feeling my age is a totally subjective thing. This is not how I thought 60 would feel.

I remember my grandmother who came for extended visits in our home while I was growing up. With deep wrinkles in her face and what seemed like an out-dated look at life, she looked more natural in a rocking chair with a quilting needle or crochet hook in her hands, producing yet another work of art, than she would have on a tennis court.

Yep, this age thing is a little difficult to figure out, but that won’t stop me. When I get my answers, I’ll share them with you. In the meantime, you’ll find me in the news room at the Herald Democrat, proud to have lived every one of my 60 years.

I hear from unknown sources that 60 is the new 40. I like that because I think I feel 40 more than I feel 60.