It really does. Of course I can’t really speak to that completely, I’m not yet even sixty, so technically, I’m not yet old as dirt. Old as a rotted log, perhaps, though not quite as buggy.
Thing is, I look quite a bit older than I am, my sun ravaged face makes people ponder my age, for sure, and I can put on the little old lady persona when it suits me to, even dress the part, although I almost never, ever, do that ,but I can pass for someone ten years my senior, easily, if I’ve got clothes on.
Naked is different, but we’re not going there today.
But the thing is, the perspective from behind the eyeballs really is different here at the getting old stage, particularly when one is interacting with adults of other ages, the no longer kids but not yet really old, either, folks. The view is different from there, way different at twenty than it is at thirty, different still at forty and fifty.
Heck, I’m going to be so wise by the time I hit sixty, I might even have some clue as to what it is I’m doing in this life, beyond living it. Heck, I might even decide by then that living it is all I really need to be doing, imagine that.
What brings old age rocking to mind is that I find in conversation with a group of four or five, a group in which I’m the old fart, which, by the gods, happens more and more often as life goes on, funny how that works, but as I’m standing there saying something like, yeah, I’ve decided to sell or give away everything, toss a box or two of essentials into a van, and yeah, maybe the cat, too, and drive around for a few years, none of those with whom I’m conversing looks at me like I’m nuts.
In fact, every one thus far has looked at me with over the top envy and respect. The kid, well, he was pretty definitely over thirty, so technically, he’s in that decade wherein no one can really much refer to him as a kid, he’s a man, the first realtor here with a group got so starry eyed that he admitted that he and his wife had been contemplating the same thing, for quite some time. They don’t have kids, aren’t sure they will, and the idea of simply driving away from the whole show sounds just fine.
Funny thing is, my nephew and his wife are in the same place. She’s got a great job, they live in the SF Bay area in a nice condo, they could be set there for life, or at least she could sit there in traffic for life, but each and every day they get closer and closer to quitting that life, selling the condo, buying a tiny mobile home, a truly mobile one that can be moved on a whim, and live life. They don’t have any kids, either.
They want to live life, imagine that.
So while many folks of my age might look at what I’ve chosen to do with life post fifty, i.e. say take this career and shove it, and really, that’s kind of where I got, I loved teaching, research was fine, assuming a mentee really into research and not looking for a line on a CV, but the career in higher education sucked so bigly, so bigly that take it and shove it was where I got with it, that's where I got with the wisdom of old age.
That was kind of the wisdom of my youth, too. Somehow, I lost it during the middle years. I’m glad I’ve found it again. Wisdom.
Old Age Rocks.