When I heard about Hilary Mantel’s death at 70, my first reaction (after the obvious sadness at the loss of genius) was, Oh god she’s still young! She’s not old! I thought of her as a near peer. It’s funny how the meaning of “old” keeps changing as we get “older.” Is 70 old? Is it still young? Is “still young,” “not old”? It’s subjective, usually dictated by how old or young we are, or feel. Not too long ago, I would have said that 70 was old. Or fairly old, anyway. Getting old. And maybe it is. Current US life expectancy is about 79. (Sort of shocking — 79 is not old, right?!)
Old is usually the part that comes before death, which we’re all afraid of no matter what we say. So we resist old, and run from it. We lie and pretend, resort to potions and tricks. We panic, join gyms and eat kale. We take the stairs slowly and consider the new weighted meaning of red meat and dessert.
We try to get our arms around the concept of death, reading books about mortality, dreaming up afterlife scenarios, and spreading inspirational fertilizer all over our socials. “Live each day as if it’s your last!” splashed across a daisy ass background. Marcus Aurelius said, “It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.” Yeah, sit down Marcus. It’s all terrifying, the living and the dying, and you knew it. Your aphorisms were your armor. (They help sometimes, though, so thank you.)
Anyway, if 79 is the average span of expected life, then 70 is objectively old. Hilary Mantel was old, in this context. And if she’s old, then my 58 isn’t far behind. My parents will both soon celebrate 80 (if they make it — that 79 warning is oppressing me). Aunt Bea is 93. My horrible neighbors are in their 80s. Age is not equal opportunity, either. Next door Judy is a sound physical specimen, but younger Jimmy shuffles toothless and breathless to the mailbox.
If you’re as young (or old) as you feel, as the tired cliché goes, then some days I’m damned old. I’ve got creaky knees and readers, my memory is spotty and dosages are on the rise. I’m getting reports from all over that we’re in new territory. Friends with cancer scares, family with various age-related ailments. The struggle is real and ignoring the inevitability for decades hasn’t helped. Head in the sand is, typically, not the best way forward.
Why do we run from old? Why do we care? There’s the obvious death thing, but also this: The default western equation is Old = Bad, Young = Good. Of course we’re running scared.
Age is relative. I tell myself I’m a young 58, but that’s a story. The joints and the bad nights tell a different story. I’ve got a whole life ahead of me, according to Aunt Bea, but my kids will tell me about an “old lady” they encounter in town who is perilously close to my age. The “old men” who gather in the local coffee shop are roughly my peers.
I guess it’s a privilege to get old, or older, whatever we are. We’re lucky to wake up here, but it’s a different country and the rules are unfamiliar. It’s one day at a time, watch your step, enjoy the sunrise. Party’s over when it’s over — no telling when! Death is a muse with a fucked up sense of timing.
So, was Hilary Mantel old? She lived a full and brilliant life, sharing her genius with us along the way. She reached her end and left the stage, as we all will. Old or young, who cares. She engaged life while she had it and left treasures behind.
Maybe all that matters is that we are. I am. Today, I am 58 and I feel pretty good. Death will come when it comes, and they will find tissues in all my pockets.
For now, stay alive. You never know what’s next.
It’s time to paint some rooms and I’m obsessed with this Mushroom Color Atlas. Looks like autumn will be spent matching mushroom shades to Ben Moore and Sherwin.
I wrote this about the getting old thing a few years ago (when some of the principles were still alive). It includes this perfect Maya Angelou quote:
“The most important thing I can tell you about aging is this: If you really feel that you want to have an off-the-shoulder blouse and some big beads and thong sandals and a dirndl skirt and a magnolia in your hair, do it.”
- has announced an upcoming book that is an outgrowth of the #1000words project. So excited for this! If you’re not aware, it’s a wonderful way to jumpstart creativity with community. Check it out, if you have any creativity wish at all - or just want a lovely community.
Thanks for reading!
Lisa
Felt old the other day when I was buying a jacket and the store assistant said it was really meant for a younger woman so I went ahead and bought it anyway, damn it!
Hey! I have tissues in all my pockets, too! It's something I share with my mother...or, she passed onto me. Every purse, jacket, pair of pants has a balled up, gently used tissue.
And
My thought is that whoever said "age is just a number" died in their 30s.