60 to 60: Day 60

60 to 60

Day 60

  In 60 days, including today, I turn 60. Yes, the BIG 60. Over the hill. One foot on a banana peel. (I figured I'd save you all some of the trouble!) Don't forget though, yours will be along shortly as well!

I decided to journal these next couple of months, for no other reason than to do it. Well, this birthday is, to me, a huge milestone, and I felt the need to do something to go gently into that big fright.

I have to admit, it bothers me. Not a lot, but it does bother me. The only other birthdays that had any kind of impact on me were 22 and 31. Allow me to explain.

When I turned 18 it was the age of majority. Living in Brooklyn I was able to get my driver's license and drink legally, the combination of which wasn't quite as frightening 42 years ago. 19 was my last year as a teenager. At 20 I was no longer a teenager. 21 meant I was fully an adult. 22 had absolutely no significance whatsoever, and for some reason that was a bit disconcerting.

When I reached my 30th birthday, I was okay with it. I freaked a little at 31 though, because I wasn't 30, I was IN my 30s! 366 days prior I was in my 20s, and now I'm in my 30s. 

Reaching our 30s we begin to embrace a certain confounding dichotomy where we look back on our three decades prior, as well as our future. Wedged in there is the present. What have I accomplished, where am I now and where will I be looking forward? The competing forces render us into a state of existential confusion.

Now, here comes 60. It made the final turn and is racing down the stretch to March 24th. 60. To me, the beginning of the final third, the last act. My family tends to stick around for a long time. Grandpa Joe died from lung cancer at 88, after having smoked unfiltered Pall Mall cigarettes his entire life. He had part of his lung removed and just kept on going, in and out of the hospital. Finally he succumbed. Grandma Bess was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease at around 85 years of age. She was a wonderful Grandmother with a great sense of humor, and it was sad to see her mind deteriorate. The disease had finally won the battle when she was 95. These were my paternal grandparents. My mother's father died before I was born, and unfortunately I don't remember when Nanny passed away. But Mom, who had lived a sedentary life, and had smoked cigarettes for 43 years, until she was told at 65 that she had to quit because she "had a touch of emphysema" according to her. She was a whole lot tougher than anyone would have guessed. In her mid 80's she had stents implanted in her 95% blocked arteries. A couple of years later, she needed to be re-stented. The surgeon nicked an artery and had to do emergency bypass surgery. Mom survived where the likelihood was low. Finally, a number of years later at 91, Mom passed away, her  mind and body too worn out to fight any longer. And now my father is still kicking at the nursing home at 95 years old. Kind of feeble and extremely hard of hearing, he still recognizes us all and is, for the most part, fairly healthy. When he was 80 he had a heart valve replaced. At 76 they caught his prostate cancer very early, which he fought and won. We Snitkins are a hardy bunch.

Considering the longevity in my genes, deeming this point to be the beginning of the final third can be considered realistic. I'll be around for a good long time more.

I won't bore you with today. I woke up late, shoveled some snow, watched television, cooked and ate dinner and began my journal. I guess I'll be forcing myself to do more interesting things so as not to put you all to sleep reading this!

I do hope you enjoy this, and comments are always welcome. But e-mail them or post them on Facebook, as this site doesn't make it easy to do so.