Last January I received an
e-mail from Sellers Publishing inviting me to contribute an essay to a forthcoming book called 70 Things to Do When You Turn 70. The
royalties, they said, would be donated to nonprofit organizations dedicated to
preventing and curing cancer. It would
be a follow-up to their book 50 Things to
Do When You Turn 50. The series has
been very successful, according to the Editor-in-Chief Mark Chimsky, and more
than 300 notables have contributed essays, including President Jimmy Carter,
Gloria Steinem, Garrison Keillor, etc.
How could I refuse an invitation like
that?
I haven’t received my complimentary copy yet, although
the book is being published this month, but I thought I’d give “Rolling Crone”
readers a sneak preview of the cover and the essay I contributed, which was
based on a blog post that I wrote when I turned 70. That was
two and a half years ago. So here it is. ( Would love to hear from other senior citizens their suggestions for making the most of one's seventies.)
Musing on the Joys of Cronehood
Joan Paulson Gage
When you turn 70, you can’t consider yourself middle-aged any
more. Let’s face it, you’re wicked old. Which doesn’t sound great,
but in ancient times the entry into cronehood, the third period of a woman’s
life – after Maiden and Mother-- was feted with ceremonies and
rituals, because the crones were revered as wise women who could impart their
knowledge to the tribe.
I used to think the best time of life was when children are young
and future triumphs are still possible. But now I think that, if you’re a
woman and lucky enough to remain in good health, your cronehood is the
best era, free of the drama, responsibilities, worries, and the insecurities of
youth.
When women turn 50, they’re likely to give their husbands a big
cast-of-thousands celebration and ignore their own birthday. But when they turn 60, many of my friends
celebrated themselves with the party or trip they’d always wanted.
At 60 women often channel the creative energy they spent on home,
children, and jobs into some long-hidden passion-- designing jewelry, writing a
book, gardening, volunteering. They allow themselves to try the things they'd
always dreamed of, but never had time to do. A friend of mine went from wife,
mother, and chef to law student, then lawyer, then judge, then a state chief
justice. After a run-in with cancer, she retired. Now, she’s enrolled at
Tufts University’s Veterinary School so that, at age 70-plus, she can fulfill
her childhood dream and become a veterinarian. (And she relaxes with horseback
riding and tap dancing!).
I, too, went the “find-your-passion-at-60” route and turned from
journalism (although I still do it) to rediscover art, which was my college
major. So, 12 years ago, I started
taking lessons at the Worcester Art Museum, exhibited in some local shows, and
even sold some paintings.
As long as I can get around, I intend to travel to places I’ve
never been, take lots of photographs and turn them into paintings. Just before
turning 70, I spent a night on a beach in Nicaragua, watching sea turtles hatch
and head to the sea, following our lanterns. For my birthday, I took a culinary tour
in Mexico with chef Susana Trilling, and witnessed the migration of millions of
Monarch butterflies at the El Rosario sanctuary—an amazing experience!
Since then, these “bucket list” experiences have been crowding
in—some by design and others by happy accident.
But the biggest and best came in
2011, when my first grandchild, a golden-eyed girl named Amalía, entered
the world.
Hanging out with her and chasing her around have literally made me
feel a decade younger. And no exotic bucket-list experience can compare with
seeing the wonder on her face when I show her something for the first
time: patting a horse, throwing stones
in a lake, putting the angel on the Christmas tree. I’m rediscovering the
beauty in everyday things through her eyes.
To see everything as if for the first time—that’s what
she’s teaching me, and that's what this crone would like to pass on to the next
generation.
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