65 is the new 40: It’s not about age, it’s about experience - opinion

Perplexed. That’s the word I’d use to describe my reaction to being asked to write something about the “third age” – known in Israel as “golden age” or “pensioner” or by the American term “senior citizen.”

Another explanation I found for this third age refers to those aged 65 to 84. AI indicated that it encompasses the period when people are done with active parenting (which is the “second age”) and are not yet “frail elderly” (“fourth age”). My computer advised me, therefore, that I, being a “third ager,” am at the age to be savored and enjoyed.

If I were a tree trunk and you counted my rings, I suppose that would mark me as a “third aged” person. But as a mom of pre-teenage twins, in the throes of planning a bar-mitzvah, the term fits me about as well as the dresses I wore in my 20s.

True, I am a grandmother as well, but I wear the “Savta” hat differently than most.

For one thing, I’m not Bubby or Grandma – I’m "G-Bubs" – a term I came up with because it doesn’t make me sound like I’m ready for the rocking chair.

In those days, women in my neighborhood didn’t have children until their career was solidly established. I bucked the system then, as I do now, working my way through as many as 21 nannies and childcare situations in a year. It was brutal, building a career and trying to keep my children happy, healthy, safe, and secure. I had no family support, except for occasional vacations – and for those, I am grateful to this day.

My boss called me in on my first day of work as a market analyst at a leading consumer magazine and told me that if I expected to get paid the same salary “as a man,” I would be subject to the same rules. “If your child falls ill,” she advised, “do not expect to stay home and take your own sick leave.”

Thank goodness, today’s professionals are treated better – especially here in Israel.

These days, I have friends in many overlapping age groups and from different psychographic sectors. I can relate to the young parenting groups at my boys’ school, divorced single parents, women in their 40s dealing with perimenopause, and to those my own age. Been there, done that. Except for the almost or newly retired.

The cliché about age being “just a number” is accurate – except when it comes to rappelling, flying planes, or white-water rafting – things I once loved but would opt out of at this point in my life. But that’s my personal choice. I’m sure many folks my age can and still do enjoy those activities. God bless them, and may they continue to do so for many years.

My experience as a mother the “second time around” – and as someone who navigated online dating apps – gives me wisdom that I happily share with younger single mothers. Age doesn’t define me, but experience certainly does.

Many friends in my age group join senior centers, go on nice trips, belong to book clubs, play Mahjong, or have exchanged their daily work for hobbies. Some enjoy long, leisurely lunches; many have taken up learning or attend lectures. I wholly support learning and staying active.

I had an aunt who went to college for the first time in her late 70s. My then-college-age son would meet her on campus and help her schlep her heavy books. They were pure inspiration – for each other. I wouldn’t mind taking up hobbies if I had the time in between shuttling kids to activities and covering events for the newspapers.

It is something I aspire to do some day, maybe in my “fourth age.”

Fortunately, my boys take every opportunity to remind me that, “Ima, you are not young!” They roll their eyes and call me a “Boomer,” a label that barely fits me because I was born at the tail end of that era!

They hate my so-called “oldies” music (Queen, Credence, Stones, even the Israeli band Poogy). I cannot deny that nowadays, all the living members of my favorite bands do look much older than I remember them when I stalked the stage door at concerts. How did that happen?

The boys warn me to stay off roller coasters with 80-meter drops, which probably has less to do with the fact that I am older than their friends’ parents, and more to do with the fact that they are in middle school and I am their mom – meaning, they don’t want me anywhere near them. That’s OK – I remember that as a young mother my then-teenage son begged me to duck down in the car when picking him up from school, so his friends wouldn’t see me. It made driving very difficult, so I couldn’t accommodate the request.

I’m not the only person who doesn’t fit into the neat groove of “age appropriateness.” Most of the grandmothers in my neighborhood have put in double duty during the war, helping their daughters and daughters-in-law manage their households, as their husbands went off to the army reserves – while taking care of their own homes and husbands. They disproved the adage of grandparents handing their grandchildren back at the end of each day. How fortunate are the mommies who had that support from their own parents.

The pace at which a random senior operates varies largely according to physical capabilities. As we age, sometimes there are physical, mental, and emotional changes that may challenge our ability to perform particular tasks. Whether we decide to shift gears is going to depend on the person sitting in the driver’s seat.

Some may require an afternoon nap or a morning constitutional. Others may plow through the workday chugging coffee. And still others may make the gym their new favorite hangout. There is no “one correct way” to be admitted to the third age phase.

No matter how you choose to own your age and stage, it is wonderful to know that, especially in Israel, we have plenty of options. Here’s to many more productive and active years for all our readers!