MILESTONE BIRTHDAY

Nobody much asks adults, "How old are you?" like we do kids.  I guess because holding up that many fingers to represent our age would be a challenge. People would quickly lose count of how many times all ten digits had to flash by to represent the decades.  So how old am I now, since my birthday 2 days ago?  Seventy-five!  Yes, three-quarters of a century old.  I was born when "mid-century modern" decor was just "modern".

I don't usually get too exercised about my milestone birthdays.  They have not been overly memorable since I'm not one to throw parties for myself.  I recall Hub took me to a cocktail lounge on my 21st birthday and we got engaged shortly after that (married that summer).  I recall going to a comedy club with friends on my 30th in suburban Chicago.  I don't recall my 40th or 50th or 60th or 70th with any specificity.  (That is probably just a failure of memory rather than completely uneventful birthdays.  I know the family used to get together to celebrate every year over the past decade or so, and I always enjoyed that.)  I do recall my 65th birthday when some dear friends organized a quiet, but festive dinner with a music and poetry theme.  And now here I am at 75.  

Back in my day, when parents or grandparents turned 75 there was usually a big deal made of it.  Sometimes the church hall was rented out for a big party of relatives and friends.  There were little white bread triangle sandwiches. There was a sheet cake.  For my 75th I invited myself to Son Two's house in the afternoon to visit his new baby, my almost 5 month old grandson.  Such a cutie!  So I got to see the two of them.  Then in the afternoon Son One came by with my younger granddaughter with flowers and goodies and it was a joy to see them.  In the evening Hub and I went out to Happy Hour and I got a free birthday dessert.  All in all a nice day.

But so different from those church hall celebrations I mentioned.  What I also recall about those is that the birthday gal/guy always looked, well, old.  And they probably were.  If you got to 75 you were already beating the odds in some cases or very near the end in others.   We are doing better now with advanced medical interventions and better education about health and fitness.  People tell me I don't "look" 75 and I think that's because we still hold the stereotype of what "old" looks like. 

Hub and I spent a couple days last week in the guest apartment at the older adult community we are hoping to move into in a couple of years.  It's a lovely place full of friendly, welcoming people and we feel we will fit in and be happy there and cared for for the rest of our lives regardless of our needs.  We will start out in Independent Living, but there is also an option for assisted living, memory care, and skilled nursing all on the same campus at no extra monthly fee.  We are trying to be planful and proactive.

Yet, as we walked around we felt maybe a wee bit on the younger side of the demographic, which is unusual for us at our age.  Seeing a corral of walkers at the restaurant, I ran smack up against my own bias, the one I'm always ranting about to other people. All those walkers were for "old" people.  I know better; people of any age might use a walker.  I've taught my granddaughter that ageist stereotypes are born of fear and denial.  Everyone is "old" since everyone is either older or younger than someone else.  So, even though many of the residents were older than we are now, and some used whatever aids available to keep themselves mobile and active, we know we are all may be headed in that direction one day.

There is no denying, there is a gravity to turning 75.  

At 75 there is no more denial.  

At 75 I have many more issues that require doctor visits and medications and interventions.  

At 75 certain activities I used to do easily have become more burdensome or at least make me more tired more quickly.  

At 75 I am more discerning about how I spend my time and energy; I want it to be meaningful, enjoyable, and worth the effort.  

At 75 my family and friends are even more precious.  

At 75 I can let go of possessions that no longer "spark joy" and live more simply, with less "stuff".  

At 75 I can prioritize myself, do what makes me happy, challenge myself in new ways, truly settle into knowing who I am, what makes me tick, work to change those aspects of me that do not contribute to health and well-being (physically and psychologically and emotionally). 

At 75 I do not apologize for who I am or what I believe or how I live.  I am my own woman, mostly happy with the lifelong growth and development of my true self.  (I also would like to lose the proverbial 10 pounds, be a little less self-critical when I am overwhelmed, maybe not perseverate quite so much about every ache and pain meaning the end of me.)

At 75 my heart wants to burst with gratitude for my life, my husband, my children, my grandchildren, my friends; for my extended family, my life history, the joys and pains of getting here and being so blessed by it all -- the struggle, the heartache, the mistakes, the hard work, the grace and luck and determination to build something that I am proud of when all is said and done.

At 75 the horizon is so much closer, yet between this day and that final one, there is much life left to live and so much more to learn and observe, so much more resilience to cultivate.  

At 75 I'm pretty excited to take the next step and see where it all leads.

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit: https://www.macrotrends.net/global-metrics/countries/usa/united-states/life-expectancy 

(The screenshot doesn't show the ages -- life expectancy was 68.1 in 1950 and is 79.4 in 2025 in the U.S.  Lots more info at the website if you are interested.)