‘Joyful and grateful’: Why turning 60 and being old is a positive

The man who wrote Fat, Forty and Fired is back two decades later with his new book Smart, Stupid and Sixty, and he’s encouraging everyone to think more positively about ageing.

I was recently moaning to (my wife) Kate that I couldn’t remember where I’d put the car keys and muttered, in a jokey, resigned way, “Must be early-onset dementia.” My 22-year-old daughter Eve overheard, raised an eyebrow and simply said, “Early?” Nice.

The week before, (my son) Harry’s 24-year-old girlfriend, Lea, had asked me, “Nigel, who’s the nice old man who puts the lane ropes in at swim club?” It turns out she was referring to my friend Bob – who is younger than me. Ouch.

Let’s be honest, though, despite all the wonderful advances in medicine and science you don’t see many 120-year-olds walking around. Sixty is not middle-aged. It’s old. And there is nothing wrong with that. Better to own it than deny it.

Nigel Marsh. Picture: John Appleyard

I don’t want to encourage a sad, delusional denial of the ageing process. We need to reclaim the word “old”. It shouldn’t be a pejorative term when we use it to describe people; after all, it isn’t when we use it to describe things. More often than not, “old” to describe a church or work of art has positive connotations, of beauty, quality, having stood the test of time etc. A similar status should be reclaimed for old human beings.

The American writer Anne Lamott coined a wonderful phrase, “We contain all the ages we have ever been.” With that perspective, when she looks at a 60 year old she includes their 50, 40, 30, 20-year-old selves. How fantastic is that?

However, the society we live in makes it hard to gain that knowledge – as it gives out the powerful signal, which is reinforced everywhere, that older people are worth less than younger people. And that your old age will be nothing but a sad period of abject misery and decline.

With all that in mind, as I embarked on this book, I needed to settle on a title. I was keen for a similar one to my “Forty” and “Fifty” books, but as the ideas rolled in – Sad, Sixty and Senile, my original thought; or my wife Kate’s suggestion, Celebrating, Sixty and Saggy; or even my brother’s helpful contribution, Smug, Supercilious and Self-Satisfied – none seemed to really capture what I was hoping to communicate in the book.

In the end, I decided on Smart, Stupid and Sixty. We can debate the percentages that should be applied to the first two words, but overall I’m happy that it’s an accurate, honest and not-too-up-itself description.

Smart, stupid and sixty?

I also like the contradictory feel of “Smart” and “Stupid”. I’m not all one or the other – which is a theme relevant to being 60. Because whilst your seventh decade brings with it a whole host of inevitabilities, not all of them are bad.

The unavoidable reality is there is good stuff and bad stuff about every life stage (just ask any masturbating teenager who can’t get laid).

We might not have a choice about many of the bad things – but we’ve got a choice of how we deal with them. At the risk of painting a dark picture I want to be able to face a shrinking career, shrinking family, shrinking finances, shrinking health – and ever-closer death – and still have a blast.

A few years ago I was honoured to be asked to give the speech at my son’s school’s Year 12 graduation dinner.

I agonised long and hard about how to send the right mix of messages to these young men. I was nervous about baring my soul and making a fool of myself in front of the parent and teacher group (many of whom I socialised with), but decided that honesty was the best policy.

Taking a deep breath, I opened with, “Gentlemen, life is either a daring adventure or it is nothing at all. Your objective as you leave this place tonight shouldn’t be to tiptoe gently through your life so you arrive safely at your grave with a well-preserved body. The objective should be to slide in sideways completely exhausted, yelling, ‘Holy crap, that was fantastic!’ It doesn’t matter how you go in this life, as long as you at least have a go.”

I meant it then for them, with their whole lives spread out before them, but I realise that it equally applies to me now.

If there were such a thing as a graduation dinner for the parents as they turned 60 – and if again I had to make a speech – I’d open with the same quote with the smallest of amendments. I’d say that “old age” – rather than “life” – is a daring adventure. The rest, I believe, applies every bit as powerfully.

The ‘third trimester’ can be an enjoyable time.

THE THIRD TRIMESTER

Maybe I’m wrong in wanting people to view the term “old” as something positive.

Perhaps it is simply too much of an ask – the word is now irretrievably negative when applied to people and we need a new one instead. Or, to put it another way, we need to rebrand “old age”.

The best alternative I can think of is “third trimester”.

The term has considerable merits. In pregnancy the third trimester is something to value, enjoy and prepare for, despite the inevitable tiredness, emotional intensity and physical discomfort. Why not have a third trimester in life generally?

In many cases, life can actually be split into three parts. The first, when we’re children, dependent and being educated in the broadest sense. The second, when we’re doing all the heavy midlife lifting, building a career, forming partnerships, raising children, striving for some sort of financial security. And the third …? What about the third? Why can’t it be a good thing?

I passionately believe that it’s possible. But I think you have to redefine what “happiness” looks like and means to you in this last life stage. And what worked in your second trimester (maybe ambition, relentless hard work, competitiveness, overwhelming focus on career, etc) might not be fit for purpose in your third.

Indeed, your circumstances judged by the criteria of the previous trimester might appear tangibly worse – failing health, lower income, less status, etc – yet with the right attitude it’s possible to be more joyful and grateful than ever before.

I feel that for many of us this doesn’t come naturally and it’s necessary to proactively and mindfully develop and nurture a third trimester attitude. In fact, it’s a tragic waste not to, because one of those inevitable and sad aspects of getting to this age is the premature passing of friends.

Nigel Marsh. Picture: John Appleyard

As a young adult, if you’re lucky, you tend not to know many friends who have passed away. But as a 60 year old, even if you’re lucky, it’s inevitable you’ll know several.

Be it through road accidents, disease, suicide or otherwise, there will be a number of people who you used to eat and laugh with and cherish who are no longer with us. Who won’t get to experience their children growing up, sit their grandkids on their laps, travel to places they had dreamed of visiting, make the difference and contribution to the world they craved to, or simply lie in bed on a Sunday morning with their partner of many decades counting their blessings.

Those of us alive are the lucky ones – we have options. It’s not a disappointment or disaster to get old. It’s a privilege. And a privilege not granted to everyone. Many far more deserving than me – and you – aren’t granted a third trimester.

With this perspective I feel a personal responsibility to make the most of my old age. Not whinge about it. We are fortunate if we get to experience the challenges the third trimester brings. Because, let’s face it, unless you believe in a heavenly afterlife or reincarnation, however bad we may feel those challenges are, they are a damn sight better than the permanent dirt-nap alternative.

This is an edited extract from Smart, Stupid & Sixty by Nigel Marsh, William Heinemann Australia, $35, out now.

Originally published as ‘Joyful and grateful’: Why turning 60 and being old is a positive