It’s a time for celebration!
Tuesday was the 22nd anniversary of attaining my correct weight and Wednesday was the 62nd anniversary of attaining my first breath.
Now, I realize that – on the grand scale of things – 62 is not that old, and should you be in your seventies, eighties, or nineties (God bless your genetics) please forgive me, but as I’ve pointed out before, this is the oldest I’ve ever been, causing some introspection. Please indulge me.
Understanding that 62 is a milestone in the fact that — if I so choose — I can now legally, officially, get a monthly Social Security check gave me pause to consider other life markers yet to come — and those long gone.
When I turned ten, realizing I was now in double digits, I was convinced I was “mature.”
Thirteen was significant, as I became a man in the eyes of Judaism, having my Bar Mitzvah. I turned 18 the year that we were allowed to vote; 19 put me eligible for the draft; 21 let me drink (legally); at 25, I could rent a car; 30 brought with it a sense of adulthood and 40 locked it in. At 50, the right of passage was the AARP card showing up in the mail.
Growing up listening to the Beetles’ “When I’m 64” makes that year significant. At one point, it seemed worlds away; now it’s knocking on the door. At 65, I believe I get Medicare. Passing 70 and 74 will be significant as those were the ages that my parents passed. My grandfather made it to 86; I fully intend to see that in my rear view mirror also.
Don’t misunderstand; this is in no way a tirade of the woes of aging; I’m not looking at this process at all in a negative sense (okay, maybe a wee bit).
I’m finding my sixties to be magnificent! My relationships are the best they’ve been (still being crazy nuts in love with my wife); I stay active; I don’t suffer the fate of fools any longer, I’m enjoying what I do, getting to work with a lot of people who share a vibrant attitude in thought and age. I’d like to believe I’m (mostly) respected, involved in a community for which I care greatly. I have a deeper sense of spirituality than I can remember. I even have a few bucks stashed away.
Dick Van Dyke, now 90 years old, says part of the secret to his long happy life is not to let the moss grow over you; keep moving. (He’s still dancing.) No moss shall you find on me.
Truth be told, if I knew my sixties would be this good, I’d have got here in my forties. It is fully my intention to live by Hunter S. Thompson’s comment: “Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming ‘Wow! What a Ride!’”
Yet, I’m a realist.
I know “stuff happens” and that control is an illusion. In a New York minute, lives change. Each time I hear an ambulance, my premier thought is someone’s life is being altered right now and I pass a moment of gratitude to the Universe that it’s not me — or is it?
Change is constant and always. We, as humans, mark certain anniversaries and milestones as more significant than others, but that’s really not the case. Each time I hug my wife or walk with a friend or observe a sunset or smell the clean air of the year’s first rain or get to sleep late on a Saturday morning or, for that matter, am simply allowed to inhale; they’re all so significant. Each and every moment is equally special — when I take the time to celebrate them.
About the author: Scott “Q” Marcus is a nationally known weight loss expert for baby boomers and the CRP (Chief Recovering Perfectionist) of www.ThisTimeIMeanIt.com. He is available for coaching and speaking. His new book (co-written with his sister), “The Busy Baby Boomers Motivational Guide to Weight Loss” is now at www.BabyBoomersGuides.com