Today I turn, am, have, or complete 65, depending on your language (and those are just the few that I know). But whatever the verb, it’s an odd moment: long expected and yet totally surprising. I cannot yet comment on the state itself but as I sit here, between the idea and the reality, I have a few random thoughts, as the aged often do.
Being 65 puts me into my final economic stage of life, if not quite into the Bard’s seventh age. Combined with my recent soft retirement, it makes me an unproductive taker, in some world views.
Being 65, I can now legitimately add “age” to “female” as a victimhood category, interpreting every bump through this new, slightly yellowed lens if I choose.
Being 65, I expect I will now be subject to the entirely illegitimate prejudice of low expectations based on my age, although I don’t know how society will manage to see me as a girl and a geezer at the same time. But where there’s a will . . .
Being 65, I have a new appreciation for world views that see the old as esteemed elders. And for dentists.
Being 65, I know that this stage could last 30 minutes or 30 years. With the budget fixed (see note on retirement, above, and do try to keep up) and the schedule so uncertain, my project management focus must shift to performance: making something of every day. Not the most necessarily, but something. And that’s what passes for wisdom in this household.
No victims here, no ma’am: just a girly geezer. Suck it up, society: If I can deal with it, so can you.
Sharing is good . . .