January 13th, 2026

It occurred to me recently that, once upon a time, I actually believed that crappola about age just being a state of mind.    It's more a state of body, I think.

I will admit, however, that there are varying sorts of being old.

For example:

 There is the grouchy old curmudgeon who only remembers the good parts of "the olden days" and refuses to learn anything newfangled and grumps their way through every day. They don't much like anything or anybody and spend most of their time watching television and complaining about it. Crankysaurous the dinosaur. 

On the other extreme there is the One in Denial who eagerly embraces new technology, knows all of the current bands and has favourites (the cute one of course).  They are fluent in current slang, spontaneously have nights out dancing 'til dawn and partying like it's 1999.  They make subtle criticisms of the rest of us showing our age (as if we weren't the same age). They wear the latest fashions and still see their much younger selves when they look in the mirror.

Most of us just kind of muddle along, getting through life the best we can.  Generally we are pleasant enough but like everyone we have bad days too; a little more tired, a few more aches and pains, a lot more doctor appointments and occasionally we are a tiny bit forgetful now and again.  We are older and we know that we are but we don't dwell on it.  It is what it is.  We learn new technology though we may not be the best or the fastest at it, we still manage. We are open to new ideas but not so open that our brains fall out.  We explore new fashion but only if it hides the things we aren't such fans of.    We will listen to new music but secretly still think our own prime era of music is the best one.

The question is, when are we officially old?

Certainly not when AARP thinks we are.  Doesn't AARP stand for American Association of Retired People?  Most retirees are up there in age. And that age of retirement keeps moving up not down. And yet, AARP keeps reaching out to a younger and younger group of people which seems counter intuitive. I remember getting my first "invitation" to join AARP on my 50th birthday.  And while at 50 I was certainly no spring chicken as they say, I wasn't anywhere near to considering retirement.  In fact, as I recall, I was mortally offended that AARP felt that, at 50, I was OLD.  I did not feel old at 50.

And that's a silly thing to say because I also remember that the very first time I said out loud that I must be officially old was when my youngest child graduated high school.  I'm sure I was being intentionally silly when I said it. The last child being a college student is a huge milestone, but I certainly wasn't old by any stretch of imagination.

I think the next time I said that I was old, was at youngest child's wedding. Once again, it was a milestone reaction.  I didn't look half bad.  I have a photo around here somewhere, hang on:

I was still working full time, had lots of energy and rarely needed to visit a doctor office for anything other than an annual check up. Tim and I had loads of friends, lots of projects going on, traveled often along with our jobs, literally climbed mountains, kept up the house and yard.  A marked difference from today and yet, back then I referred to myself as "officially old". Silly me. Perhaps I was joking.

When I retired, a little bit earlier than originally intended, I still was super energetic, always embracing a new idea, walking multiple miles every day just for fun and taking care of hearth, home and husband while still qualifying to collect social security and just shy of  qualifying for Medicare. But that was also when I started to occasionally walk into a room and then wonder what I went in there for.  So I guess that was the real beginning. Just the outer edges maybe. Not truly old yet but definitely heading in that direction.  But that new milestone of being retired made me say, "I guess I'm officially old now".

The year I turned 65, Tim and the kids surprised me with a trip together and it was absolutely still the best vacation I ever had. The best.  Being 65 is kind of a big deal.  Once again, the onus of being 65 felt officially old.  This was me then with my girlies:

That's less than 10 years ago, though somehow it feels a lot longer. There's been something about the seven years since then that have made me a lot closer to being officially old. Perhaps I've already arrived and I'm just not ready to admit it yet.   Since turning 65 there has been loads more medical stuff,  a distinct slowing down that I've noticed, and I have far more patience than I used to have (which is a good thing).  There are fewer adventures happening or at least more recovery time required afterwards, definitely more walking into rooms and wondering why, absolutely more writing things down so that I don't forget, more creaking, more aching and more naps.

But there has also been a lot more confidence, way more laughing, far more consideration, grace and forgiveness going on.  I think before talking more,  I am more honest with myself as well as other people and I give far fewer opinions. I suspect that while I may be doing fewer variety of things, I am enjoying  those things a great deal more and on many more levels. 

It isn't as though my age comes up a lot, it does not.  I don't think about it all the time. In fact recently I had to stop and do the math to be sure how old I was and even then it didn't seem correct.  But it does come up now and again.

Recently, while attempting with my clumsy arthritic fingers to put on earrings, I dropped one. (earrings not fingers).  Naturally the errant earring rolled under the bed.  Dang!  I bent over to see if I could reach it, but of course not.  I had to clumsily get down lower.  Bear in mind here that we have a small bedroom and there is not a great deal of space between the bed and the closet doors. So working around my booted foot in the narrow space,  I knelt on the hard tile floor (knees objecting strenuously). Still could not reach it. Double Dang!  I ended up laying full length on the floor and stretching as far as I could underneath to finally just barely touch the dang thing.  Once my finger tips grazed it, I pushed off the closet door with one foot, very carefully and shoved my upper body under the bed and at long last, snagged it!  Huzzah!  

Then realized, crap, now I have to get back out.  First, while still under the bed, I put the earring on, then with both hands flat (or as flat as they go) on the floor, I pushed and wiggled myself backwards without banging the booted foot on anything because that would really hurt and kind of curled into a half circle so that I would fit.   Somehow, with zero grace at all, I got back to my knees (poor knees) and was fighting my way back upright when I hear from the doorway, "Are you okay?" from Tim.  With one last push, I thrust myself upright, hair in my face,  a little flushed from exertion and without giving it one seconds thought I said, "I'm fine, just old".  Tim nodded and went back to work.

I supposed that means that now I actually am officially old.  Dang.

​Oh well.