I grew up listening to The Beatles. I was 10 when Sgt Pepper was released, so I’ve been aware of When I’m Sixty-Four for a long time. This evergreen song has informed some of my beliefs about ageing, and what age is considered to be “old”. So I accept the inevitability of someone quoting the lyrics at me when I actually reach the age of 64 in the next few days.
Part of me is horrified, part of me doesn’t understand how I could possibly be 64, and part of me has surrendered to it. But, these days, 64 is not old in many people’s eyes – except, perhaps, to much younger folk.
I was intrigued to learn that When I’m Sixty-Four was one of the first songs Paul McCartney ever wrote – he was 16, so at that age he would have considered 64 to be ancient. Plus, in those days, people generally looked older than 64 does now.
Youth has gone…
Having said that, lockdown has confronted me with my own mortality. Losing a parent (my mum) makes you realise you are the next in line, generationally speaking. It has also made me accept that youth has gone – externally, anyway. I got away with it for quite a while – deep into my 50s – but the signs of ageing have crept up on me.
I remember asking Mum when she started to notice the signs, and she did say in her 60s. It’s hard to come to terms with, especially if you’re single and spent much of your adult life relying on physical appearance to attract a partner. Now it’s all about what’s inside. And inside, I still feel about 29.
While we’re on the subject of songs, I’m reminded of Soft Cell’s melancholy Youth. My old friend Marc Almond never shied away from topics that others preferred to avoid.
Youth has gone
I heard you say,
It doesn’t matter
Anyway
Don’t hide the photos
Or turn off the lights
I’m quite sure we’ve both seen
Funnier sights*
When you start to see the signs of ageing, the natural reaction is, whenever possible, to conceal it. But, as the lyrics suggest, sometimes you just have to laugh at it.
Nora Ephron was brilliant at laughing at herself in this way, especially in her book I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts About Being A Woman. In it, she says: “Our faces are lies and our necks are the truth. You have to cut open a redwood tree to see how old it is, but you wouldn’t have to if it had a neck.”
I laughed out loud on the bus when I read that line – but it also cut deep into the truth of my own physicality. There really is nothing much you can do about a crepey neck, unless you’re rich and are prepared to undergo drastic plastic surgery.
Gimme some vital force…
The word youth has an interesting history. In Old English, it meant “junior warrior” and only later did it come to mean “vital force” and “youthful vigour”.
I may no longer have outwardly youthful vigour, but if you accept that youth can become internalised, then I feel I have strong life-force energy. Mum had that too – right up until her final decline in the run-up to her 94th birthday (sadly she didn’t quite make it).
Despite the neck, I still take care of my body – I have a personal trainer, I don’t drink alcohol, I am mindful of what I eat, and I can’t remember the last time I had to miss work because of illness. I’m in this for the long haul.
When I turn 64, I will reflect on what that age means to me. But I definitely won’t be losing my hair, knitting a sweater by the fireside, renting a cottage in the Isle of Wight or having grandchildren on my knee.
Instead I will be thinking about two of my favourite 75-year-old goddesses: Debbie Harry, who is still rocking it; and my inspiring friend Sue, who found her soulmate in her 70s. They are my role models: whatever “it” is, they still have it.
So I’m sorry, Paul McCartney – love you, but I’m not having it. Sixty-four is definitely not old – and I have no plans to “retire”.
*Songwriters: Marc Almond / David Ball. Lyrics © Metropolis-ltd
Vivien Shannon says
Good thoughts Beverley! X
SuePlumtr Plumtree says
As someone with a vested interest in the subject of age, I loved this post. It felt rather bitter sweet.
As for necks, I don’t know if you noticed that some mirrors are friendlier than others! Not sure the one in my bathroom likes me as it shows my neck, not exactly wrinkly but a bit slack (Uggg!)
Interestingly, I felt really vulnerable about my age especially as I turned 60 but excited when I was about to turn 70 – 9 months before I met Dave.
I don’t know why but my late 60s and my 70s so far (76 on 18 March) are the best ever – I have none of the conditions associated with people my age, and I’m the healthiest I have ever been, definitely healthier than when I was unhappily married (I believe there’s a connection!)
You could decide that the best is yet to come – and who’s to say it isn’t?
Happy birthday, darling!!!
Beverley Glick says
It’s so good to know that you are only now experiencing your ‘best ever’ years! As I wrote, you are an inspiration.
rita says
Well Ms Glick, you definitely have the vital force. Love this piece. Observation and personal reflections – very powerful and lots of food for thought.
Beverley Glick says
Thanks Rita – much appreciated.
Natalie says
Bev I could drink your words all day. So honest and reflective but shared so beautifully.
I particularly liked “ youth can become internalised, then I feel I have strong life-force energy”. You are amazing and to me age really has no bearing on that. Shine on like the diamond you are 💎
Beverley Glick says
Thanks so much Nat – I hope I continue to quench your thirst!