I spent the morning sitting at the kitchen table, replying to a stream of text messages. It was my birthday, and friends sent me silly memes and emojis wishing me well. I’m not a big birthday person; I prefer simple things, like spending the morning watching YouTube videos with a cup of coffee, but a few of the texts brought a much-needed laugh.
My brother Bob’s ringtone made me pause Jimmy Kimmel’s monologue. “Happy Birthday! Congratulations, you’re 62. You’re now eligible for Social Security.”
I chuckled for a moment before replying, “Should I cash out now before the well runs dry?”
We chatted for about an hour, catching up on our kids and what’s new at home. We got nostalgic talking about our parents, family vacations, and assorted memories. He patiently listened as I bitched and moaned about the Mets’ lost season.
Birthdays are a time for self-reflection, especially milestone ones, but my brother’s mention of Social Security age stuck in my head in a way that no number could.
How did I get here?
In my 20s, I had an air of invincibility and a lack of life experience as I navigated the challenges of dating and trying to establish myself in a career. Neither went in a straight line, but I learned a lot along the way.
Time caught up with me.
Turning 62 reminded me I am no longer middle-aged — I’m officially a senior citizen — as if the thick white hair and plus-sized dad bod didn’t say it loud enough.
I’m a card-carrying AARP member who gets discounted movie tickets and haircuts. Okay, the barber thinks I’m 65, so I take the discounted haircuts so he can feel like he’s respecting his elders.
Mentally, I feel the same as I did when I was younger. Physically, not so much. I don’t have the same energy as I once had. My body gets cranky after heavy gym workouts, and more than once, I’ve asked my wife to put an Icy Hot Patch on my back after shoveling snow or when my sciatica kicks in.
The last 12 years have been rough ones. Sandwich parenting and raising an autistic child brought challenges I never imagined. Burying both parents after prolonged illnesses was difficult, and knee replacement meant an end to my days as a marathon runner,
Conversely, I have been fortunate to develop several genuine friendships along the way. The kind of friends who know how to listen when needed, but will put me in my place when I need a reality check.
I gained a lifetime’s worth of experiences. 60-plus years made me truly appreciate what my dad meant when he told a 23-year-old me, If I could only be your age again, knowing what I learned along the way.
Through the years, I trained, mentored, and coached eager 20-somethings starting on their career paths. I work as an academic advisor, doing the same for college students. Not all our conversations are about their GPA or academic progress. Sometimes, the lessons are about life, the way my mentors guided me.
I’m bidding farewell to middle age as I enter the third act of my life. I accepted that I’m a senior citizen and that life keeps moving forward for all of us.
A few weeks ago, I wished a younger cousin congratulations on her wedding anniversary. She said, “I can’t believe two years went by so quickly.”
I told her that life is like riding a conveyor belt. It keeps moving, while we celebrate milestones such as birthdays, anniversaries, and new children. It keeps moving as you mourn the passing of older relatives, friends, and co-workers.
I added, “Your grandmother just turned 95, but she was about my age, and I was your age when you were born. Cristian just turned 12, and he’ll be your age before you know it.”
Since none of us are promised to grow older, you should embrace the present, make Bucket Lists, and enjoy new experiences to be remembered by your children, grandchildren, and yourself.
