I Forgot What to Title This…
Life at 60:
Things I Still Don’t Know
An Essay
In the first week of February, I turned 60.
Happy birthday to me.
Aside from a birthday greeting from an actual friend on Facebook, a sweet, out-of-the-blue text from my financial advisor, Debbie, and an old-school birthday card from my best friend and coworker in Pittsburgh, that was it. Not that I was expecting much, if anything at all.
Close to the big day, my father, who’s getting somewhat fuzzy when it comes to his memory, pointed to the calendar on Groundhog Day and asked, Is today your birthday?
No, I told him. I chuckled and smiled, giving him a head’s up that he owed me a birthday dinner on the actual day.
But honestly it did hurt; he couldn’t remember the birthday of the only other surviving member of our family since my mother and brother passed away.
When 60 arrived though, the funny thing was I didn’t feel any different than when I turned 50.
Or when I turned 40. Or 30. Twenty was different, I was out of the teens and I felt the world was ahead of me.
If I only knew what to do back then, that was.
I still feel young. Maybe everyone feels this way. I asked my father (who’s 87), if he felt old. Even he didn’t.
Other than one medical affliction and dreading getting down and up with my knees, I’m in good shape. People guess I’m a decade younger, what with a full head of hair that’s not gray yet (Shh! Can you keep a secret? The hair color staying the same is partially due to clean living and vanity”for using Grecian Formula for Men!) I exercise, walking almost every evening at dusk. So, I really have nothing to bellyache about when it comes to my body.
My mind is another thing, however.
At 60, I came to realize there’s things I still don’t know or keep forgetting, so I created an incomplete list because I’m sure once this is published, I’ll remember more.
I Can’t Remember My Gas Code. For two years, I carried a six-digit set of numbers I’d use to put gas in the company vehicle. I finally wrote it down on a piece of paper and put it in my wallet. I even sent myself a text with the code, too, just in case.
But since I recently quit my job, does it now count?
Nearby Roads. I’ve lived in my neighborhood for a good portion of my life, except when attending college and living on my own. So it bothers me that I still don’t know the names of roads that are three or four blocks away from my house. I guess it’s because I don’t drive them that much, but still I dread the day when someone will ask me for directions and I won’t be able to help them.
W-2 or WD-40? Okay, this is truly an embarrassing double-edged sword. As a 60-year old man, who’s worked most of his life, I should know the name of the tax form that government sends us annually to calculate our taxes.
I do remember WD-40 by its name, but I always confound it with the IRS form. On one of my final days at work I asked the shop steward if she’d gotten her WD-40’s yet. I got an odd look. A little later, I realized why.
The Flora in My Yard. People don’t appreciate the beauty that’s around them, that’s why when it comes to my home, I feel guilty. I can name the maple trees, a dwarf apple tree and an old pear tree that lost its mate during a very strong thunderstorm in the 1970’s. It only bears fruit every other year because it lost its partner to cross pollinate with. It always makes me sad, this widow/er tree. I think about getting a mate for it, but I don’t really like pears, so they’d just go to waste. But still.
Some of our flora I have no idea what they are. There’s a shrub across the driveway that sprouts beautiful white flowers. There’s yellow flowers that bloom up through the snow. When I was a child, that was my first indication that spring was coming. (I think they’re daffodils.) And then there’s the tiny white and lilac–colored flowers that carpet our front yard annually. I look forward to seeing them every year. I really want to know their name. Maybe this year, I’ll get a guide book.
Things in Our Calendar Year. Okay, as a person who’s been around this long, I REALLY should know these: I still don’t know the number of days for each month in our calendar year. Yeah, I know some. January starts off the new year with 31, February, my birth month, is so unique with either 28 or 29 days. And that’s it, until the end of the year. November’s 30, October, with Halloween on its final day is, of course, 31 and so is December. My mother used to recite a poem that list the number of days, yet I never bothered to learn it.
I don’t even know when the equinox, the solstice and Daylight Savings Time occur.
Do you?
Am I the only one who doesn’t know these dates?
Maybe one day I’ll learn these things…
Ask me when I’m seventy.
***GG
END
