Turning to gold

Thanks, but it’s just not significant to me.” That’s the response to those who have wanted to organize birthday parties for this milestone of turning 60, like I was the ol’ Ford clicking up another row on the odometer. Is there a threshold I don’t discern? Maybe I should revisit the concept.

Contrast with what I thought this age would be like could add context. My vision was pretty well underway as a child, observing the elders of the tribe. Except I would learn that our priorities and preferences change, and that we have the ability to shape our futures and outcomes. Calvin Trillan said that we’re all who we were in high school. True enough in some cases, but I don’t stand pat.

As a boy, my hopes were to make it to the millennium, which would’ve been age 51. People didn’t live long where I grew up, so I had some doubts. My father never saw 50.

The older people in the neighborhood were bent and crippled, having lived lives long on hazardous manual labor and short on healthcare. A diet heavy in pizza, pasta and cheesesteaks probably didn’t help. I had only one living grandparent and he dwelled in a rocking chair.

On the other hand, I couldn’t envision myself like that. I was always training hard for sports and felt indestructible. Concussions can affect your perception.

I am alive at 60, apparently. I’m not the unbreakable machine I thought I’d always be, but am mobile, within limitations. I’ve worked out and played sports a good part of my life, which adds and subtracts. The net is that I don’t live life in a chair.

Okay, I have the advantage of modern medicine. In the 60s, I had knee reconstruction by way of the old saw and chisel method. Recently, I had a shoulder done with arthroscopic surgery. A bee sting compared to the old school method and something unavailable to my predecessors. I hadn’t factored in healthcare advances in my musings. Healthcare had gone something like, “You just think you’re hurt. Get back to practice.” Or, I could imagine my father saying, “You just think you’re dead. Clean out the ash pit, now.”

Somewhere along the way, possibly in high school health class, I was informed that the sex life was essentially over at 40. Not good news, but seemed like a reason to front-load the experience. Even though it turned out to be untrue, not a wasted effort.

I assumed I’d be working in a steel mill, or some factory, living in a row house with a wife and four kids. I’d hang out at the Disabled American Veterans hall, like my dad and uncles. Our family had a vast collection of purple hearts. It was speculated that my talent for being in the middle of things would propel me to carrying on that tradition.

The vision changed in my mid-teens. A bachelor pad on the beach at Avalon (NJ) or Laguna Beach (CA) emerged in my daydreams. My Brian Wilson period. But, I reverted to conventional expectations.

I did manual labor as an adolescent. Nothing wrong with that. But I came to see that it didn’t buy some of the things I wanted before I checked out. At first, it was the finer things, but I progressed through that phase. Money doesn’t buy happiness, but it does provide freedom from a lot of constraints and boundaries. Happiness is having options to do what you want.

There’s also the satisfaction of achievement, something I enjoy. Conceiving, spawning and guiding an enterprise provides more than being a role player. It also engenders more risk. I was willing to play. Covered in the scar tissue of entrepreneurship, but had the sense to get out at the top of my game. Still have the energy and desire to create, so I dabble.

Married a great person and had children. Not everyone is happiest as half of a couple, so I dealt with that. Fortunately, the kids turned out great and I still have a relationship with the ex. Limiting offspring to two was within my depth and a good idea. I don’t know that I could’ve provided sufficient attention and resources for more, like the four I had envisioned. I’m not Mike Brady.

Happiness is also in relationships. But, only the kind that fit you. Time is limited, so I spend it with people I’m excited to see, and on the terms that optimize the experience. Work or other activities can impose on that. But, you still have control within those parameters. The good people matter and are a source of positive energy, so that’s where you focus.

I don’t live in a row house, which is good because I like some space. Having a lot tied up in the abode never seemed like a good idea to me, so I never stretched the budget for something huge. With the help of my ex, I found the perfect nest. Great location, but it also has privacy. And, of contemporary design, it has a touch of the funkiness that I appreciate.

Is 60 a noteworthy milepost? I can see things are different than I thought they’d be. But, they were at 55 and will be at 65. Evolution is continuous and I don’t discern anything especially noteworthy at this juncture. Except, I just received my Golden Buckeye card. Okay, let’s party!