Aging Out Loud: What’s Never Going to Be and What’s Next

This week, I turn 64. That feels like an out-of-body experience. Sixty-four doesn’t feel like something that could have anything to do with me. How did I get here?

One way I manage the shock of getting older is by pre-gaming my birthday. About four or five months beforehand, I start thinking of myself as the next year’s age. When someone asks how old I am, I say, “Almost 64.” And now, here it is: I am 64.

The only downside to this strategy is that when my birthday actually arrives, I can’t remember if I’m turning 64 or 65. For a moment, I’ll think, Wait, did I skip a year? It’s a harmless mind game—a way to nudge myself toward acceptance.

But those internal games are nothing compared to the ones the world plays with me. The ads I see. The snail mail I get. Just last week, I received a burial plot solicitation—nothing says, “Happy Birthday!” like a brochure for eternal rest.