So, I’m 80. I realize that if I die today, everyone will say I had a long life and how nice for her. Very true. And I appreciate every year I’ve had, the good and the not so great. I really have had more than my share of happiness and so many special experiences and adventures. And, yet, I still want more. How greedy of me.

There are funny things about being 80, starting with looking in the mirror and wondering how that happened. We’d all like to think we don’t look our age, but there is the proof, staring back at you. Of course, 80 doesn’t look the same for everyone. I look ok, but I know people who are in better shape and some who look a lot older. There’s no real way to tell how old anyone is these days. It’s also funny when you get things in the mail asking you to subscribe for two years rather than one to save a few dollars. I now look at those and laugh. Who knows if I’ll be here or driving or reading or anything. It’s all pretty up in the air.

I’m lucky to have minor aches and pains. I still have my original knees and hips and eyes and teeth (although there are crowns, an implant, and fillings). I have scars from some surgeries, but who doesn’t have some kind of scars at 80? If you don’t, you must not have done very much. I have visible scars and also the unseen ones where life stomped on your heart and left you reeling. If you have lived this long, you have encountered some hurt inside and out.

The reality is that everything does slow down, even with the most active of my friends. It takes a little longer to do everything and we don’t even care about dealing with things that seemed important not that long ago. The battle is to stay on top of your life before your body or your brain or your finances topple you.

My projects of the moment include going through my house, which is filled with a clutter of memories, as I say, and clearing space. I honestly can’t walk a step in my home without seeing something that reminds me of someone or some time. I love that, actually. I remember cleaning my mother’s house after she died and having fun going through everything. She had cleaned out the trash, which helped. It was just the objects. I’m trying to get there for my kids’ and grandkids’ sakes. There’s also the feeling that, if I don’t get it all done, oh well. My house is paid for and they all live nearby, so they can take their time and enjoy it. I’ve tried to point out which items are old family items and which are valuable, so don’t sell them for pennies. They don’t really remember what I’ve said, which I understand, so I’m trying to document what I can. Sigh.

The cleaning out takes time because you uncover such treasures. Yesterday, I found a teapot I was going to give away because I have no idea how I got it and then did a little research and found it was worth something. I decided to give away my husband’s cowboy hats and asked all my grandkids if anyone wanted them and they all did. Now I have to figure out who gets them, which is another dilemma. He would get a kick out of it.

I find myself saying “I’m 80” a lot. Sometimes it’s to my self, just because it’s seems so unreal. Sometimes it’s to someone else because I guess I’m hoping they’ll take what I’m saying more seriously. And, frankly, sometimes it’s to get out of something. Hey! Have a little respect for the age. I’m not quite sure how other people take it. We don’t quite live in a culture that automatically respects age.

80 is an interesting age. We have so much experience and, hopefully, wisdom in at least some areas, and perspective, but there are limits. I don’t think 80 year olds should be in charge of everything or of much. They should be there to mentor, advise, assist, but it’s time for others to take over. We should be ready to turn over responsibilities, information, and have a plan for turning over possessions. For gosh sakes (sounds 80ish), get out of the way. Have faith in those younger who may be able to make this a better world than we have. I hope. For all the progress and wonderful things that I’ve seen happen in my lifetime, we sure seem to be able to mess it up.

Since I was born at the end of 1945, the end of World War II, I’ve seen some remarkable changes. The technology is mind-blowing, as I watched early television, talked on phones with cords and operators, rode in cars where we had to crank the windows down by hand, lived without air conditioning in summers where we slept spread eagle on the bed with fans blowing. We even took trips in cars without air conditioning. I survived chicken pox, measles, mumps, whooping cough and avoided polio and will stand in line for any vaccine that will eradicate those dreadful diseases. I have arthritis in my thumbs, my lower back and my neck, but there are so many things I can do about it now that my poor grandmothers who were pretty crippled by it couldn’t. My husband and son died of cancer decades ago and I’ve watched new treatments and cures discovered that might have given them more years. Medicine is full of miracles these days.

I learned to write cursive and go to the library and look things up in the card catalog. I took notes in class and wrote papers out by hand. I learned to type and turned in college papers that could have no mistakes and had to have copies made by typing on several sheets of paper with carbon paper between. Correcting was tricky and we welcomed the invention of white-out and then correcting tape before the first word processors came along. A few years ago, or was it a decade ago, I found myself working again at Oklahoma State University, where I had first worked as a graduate assistant in the 1960s. So many hours of my college years had been spent in the library, looking up sources in the card catalog, then physically finding the magazine or book in the library, then copying information by hand into notebooks and notecards. I went back inside that gorgeous building and looked around for anything familiar. I told a student working at the desk that I hadn’t been in since 1967 and she smiled and said, “Welcome back.” There were no books in sight, only desks with computers. I will say that the library was full with people looking up information and rooms where humans were actually sitting and reading. It was still a beautiful place.

I learned computers as a volunteer in my children’s elementary school when the PTA purchased the first primitive computers. I decided that if the kindergarteners could learn it, so could I. I stay up with the technology pretty well, although I don’t even try to learn it all because, frankly, I don’t need it all. When I was back at OSU, I laughed when I had to record grades for the students. In the 1960s, I wrote the grades on a sheet of paper and walked them over to the office. This time, I used a computer program, which I had to learn, and send them electronically. I sat at the back of a classroom to see how the students were listening to a guest speaker and observed them taking notes on their laptops as well as digressing to social media, emails, etc. They could get the information they were seeing projected on their computers rather than trying to write it all down, although there were notebooks and pens seen sometimes.

The changes for women and minorities in my lifetime have been major and won after hard fights. When I was in college, women had to live in the dorms until they were 23 or married. When I got married at age 21, birth control was still pretty new and I had to have permission to get it. Roe vs Wade passed, women were allowed to get credit cards and own property, and women were advancing in their professions, although they were still paid less. My daughters and granddaughters had rights my mother and grandmother didn’t imagine, yet here we are, losing them again. I’m a privileged white girl, but I watch my friends of color and hope their advancements don’t go away, too.

The most difficult part of growing older is losing people. My husband died when he had just turned 53, but we had our first three grandchildren born the year before he got sick. I learned perspective with that, even while I grieved and realized my life was going to change. I found that you have to balance the grief with the celebration of lives lived and new lives begun. We have no time table given to us, which is why 80 is a landmark in life. At 60, I felt empowered. At 70, I didn’t feel that different. At 75, I realized my body was changing. 80 is an accomplishment, if you can make it with your mind intact and your body working.

My 80 year old friends are all facing something, whether it is loss of memory, failing bodies, loss of income, estrangement from family, or loss of everyone around them. It’s not easy, but friends help. We can laugh together at the changes and drive each other and enjoy the memories and roll our eyes at our children and beam at our grandchildren. It helps to hang out with younger people and absorb some of their energy and perspective.

These days are to be enjoyed. A nap is often taken, whether you planned to or not. Dozing off is ok. I spend my days taking care of things around the house, keeping in contact with family and friends from all my 80 years, doing puzzles to keep my mind sharp, reading to keep up with the world, trying to stay physically active before I can’t, and planning adventures. I’m blessed or lucky to still be curious and want to see more and learn more. Since last fall, I have taken three trips, two to Europe and one to Oregon with family and friends. I still want to be able to do that. I’ve marched in protest of things I find wrong. I’ve met with my investment club, played mah jongg with friends (my mother played when I was young and I’ve played off and on for years, before the current rage for the game), and hosted parties and dined out with friends.

I realize sometimes that I’m trying to cram in everything before I can’t. Nobody knows when it will all end or how it will end. You can predict, but you can’t know. There are more memories behind me than I can possible have in front of me, so I’m happy to wallow in the pictures and sounds and objects that trigger them and make me feel sad, happy, silly, angry, nostalgic, lonesome – all the emotions.

On the days when I am discouraged by the evil changes happening today, I think I should just relax and let it happen. Mankind is pushing itself to extinction because we don’t take care of the planet and we don’t take care of each other. Then I shake my head and keep speaking out and fighting for my grandchildren and those to come. I like the old belief that we should make decisions based on how it will affect us seven generations from now. Sigh…

My time with my children and grandchildren is more precious than they will ever know. Having them all together brings tears to my eyes as I watch them interact, seeing the ties that we have carefully built with love and marveling in the fact that they are my greatest creation. Seeing them as a group that is bonded together makes seeing them individually even more special because each one of them is unique and incredible and a joy in so many different ways. I can’t predict how many years each of them has in front of them, but I hope I have provided at least some examples of how to deal with the curves that life brings. I hope I leave them, when I leave them, with the tools they need to make it as far as I have – strength of character, the ability to love, the ability to forgive, the ability to see different perspectives, kindness, curiosity, and determination. They have the genes of generations mixed in to make them unique and I hope they learn all those stories of the people who contributed to who they are and take it to the next generations.

So, here I am…an 80 year old lady, looking back and looking forward and being grateful for it all. What’s next?