Just before the clock hit midnight on Wednesday, I wrapped up my seventh decade on earth.
I was asleep and didn’t take much note of the event, but that’s the way with birthdays. You don’t have to recognize them or participate or even be awake for them. They happen anyway.
And now I am at an age that I used to think was ancient, a time in life when people tend to complain about arthritis and take fiber supplements and start going to bed much earlier.
70 years old. I never thought I would get this old, but now that I am here, I find I like it pretty well.
Aging, at least as I have experienced it, brings clarity, teaching us about what’s important and what’s not.
Some years ago I ran a daily newspaper and wore a suit or a coat and tie to work almost every day. Why? Because I wanted to look like what people thought a newspaper publisher should look like.
Now that I have retired once and then jumped back into a bonus career, I wear jeans and work boots to work almost every day.
Somewhere along the way I realized a tie and shined shoes don’t give a person credibility. Being good at what you do and treating people well count for more. Much more.
There is nothing wrong with looking good, but people who judge you by your clothes are not the people you should try to impress.
Along with clarity has come a greater tolerance for people who aren’t like me.
I have known people, and probably you have, too, who saw the world in stark black and white. They live in worlds of absolutes, with long lists of things that are always right or always wrong and heaven forbid they should ever meet.
In my 70 years, I have come to believe that the world is a much grayer place, and where you stand often determines the amount of gray you see.
Certainly, there are absolutes. Adultery is always wrong, and so is gossipping. We should help take care of those who can’t help themselves. We should follow the Golden Rule.
But many of the choices people make in life are just that - choices. They have consequences, good and bad, but they’re choices, neither right nor wrong.
Now that I have come to believe that it’s best to live and let live, I find life is less stressful.
I just have to worry about myself and the choices I make, and not the millions of people who might choose to walk another path.
And aging certainly has brought clarity on valuing time.
At some point, everyone begins wondering how many pages will be on their calendar. Even if we aren’t aware at the time, we all step across a threshold when more of our days are behind us than ahead of us.
It’s reality and it happens to us all. My calendar may run out of pages tomorrow, or it might last another decade, maybe two.
When I turn the last page, I want it filled with scribbles and dates circled in red to show that I made the most of every day that I was given.