Making the Rest the Best
From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Older and Wiser

On May 21, 1998, I commenced an adventure I spent seventy years preparing for―my eighth decade. I looked forward to it with great gusto, and I can already tell I have good news for you. Life begins at seventy!

I thought being sixty was incredible, but being seventy is almost incomprehensible. Other people aged, but I simply did not believe it would ever happen to me. Many, many years ago, the very idea that I would ever reach seventy was as remote as the thought that the year 2000 would arrive. The inevitable has finally arrived, though. Now that I have reached seventy, I can relax. People don’t generally expect as much of me.


When I was in my sixties, people expected me to retire to a rocking chair on the front porch of a condo, “take it easy�?and complain about all my aches and pains. They were always asking questions like, “Do you think you should be doing that at your age?�?or “What are you going to do when you retire?�?I never planned to retire at sixty, or sixty-two, or sixty-five, even though people expected me to. Fortunately, I didn’t feel guilty when failing to meet their expectations. Now that I’m seventy, I still am doing all the fun things I enjoy, including playing tennis, climbing mountains and flying airplanes. I am considering retirement. But nobody asks me about it anymore.

Another benefit of being seventy is having lived long enough to accumulate more than a few gray hairs and smile lines. I go into this season of life with a rich reserve. And I’m not referring to my bank accounts. I’m referring to the reservoir of experiences I’ve gained. I fully intend to apply the lessons I’ve learned―first and foremost, to maintain a positive mental attitude. I also plan to keep an open mind to new ideas and to maintain a good sense of humor.

Over the years, my gratitude has grown for the many people I’ve met along the way―family and friends, as well as thousands of acquaintances. Some I’ve crossed paths with I like very much. Some I love. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I never met anyone I didn’t like. But I am proud to say there were hardly any I simply couldn’t stand.

I’ve always been accused of putting more on my plate than is possible for one human to handle. But my philosophy has always been to bite off more than I can chew―and then to promptly chew it. I have loved living this way. I’m realistic enough to know, however, that I will never be as vibrant as I was twenty, thirty or forty years ago. I am still in good health and capable of living a rich, full life―spiritually, emotionally and mentally. But now if I get carried away and promise to be three places at once, no one thinks badly of me. They just chalk it up to my being seventy.

Being seventy has other pleasant surprises. For example, everybody seems astonished that I’m still going strong. Some are amazed I can still walk without losing my balance and talk without forgetting what I’m saying. Since no one expects someone in their seventies to have perfectly good hearing, I can pretend I can’t hear if I want!

Once you reach seventy, people offer to open restaurant doors, help you with your jacket and save a place for you. If you’re late, they know you’ll arrive eventually. When you’re over seventy, you don’t need an excuse; people are just glad you make it. During an evening’s conversation, people don’t rudely interrupt you as often. They tend to treat you with respect just for having lived so long.

Being seventy is better than sixty, and it’s significantly better than being fifty. When you’re in your fifties, people hold you responsible for things over which you have very little control―the economy, social conditions, increasing crime, and the list goes on and on. Also, by the time you are seventy, your kids are old enough to recognize that you did the best you could as a parent and no longer hold you responsible for their problems. I am grateful my grandkids have taught my kids that important truth.

When you are seventy, you are given more choices. You can act either young or old. If you act too young, people say you’re going through your second childhood. If you act too old, they think you’re getting senile and smother you with kindness. You do have to guard against people expecting that you have all this time and nothing to do with it. Convincing them otherwise is sometimes a challenge. I keep telling people how busy I am, how I have goals enough to keep me busy until I’m one hundred, but I still have to say a lot of no’s. I have noticed that I’ve had to say fewer since I put up a poster in my company headquarters office saying, “Retired―gone fishing, hiking, golfing, flying, cycling, snorkeling, swimming, reading, napping and smelling the roses... Meanwhile, have a nice day. Enjoy your work.... I’ve been there and done that.�?BR>
Being seventy has reinforced a belief and practice I have held tenaciously to all my life. I don’t have to be overly concerned about pleasing others. I don’t have to wear suits, starched shirts or ties. I can wear tennis shoes, or no shoes, for that matter!

I can take a nap whenever I feel like it. I’m only sorry that I didn’t start sooner. After all, Albert Einstein and Thomas Edison, so I’ve heard, took naps throughout the day all their lives and no one was bothered. People, in fact, just considered it part of their being geniuses.

Being seventy also gives me more perspective. I’ve learned not to sweat the small stuff. It’s all small stuff. Time is very precious. It’s too often wasted on hate, bitterness, holding grudges, or being unforgiving or vindictive.

Now that I’ve lived long enough to discern what is noble and what is not, I have recommitted myself to doing more good and also encouraging others to do more with their opportunities. I am convinced that doing good will keep my heart and mind strong and vibrant.

I do not know what the rest of my life will bring, but I am setting goals and planning for it to be a great adventure. I look forward to this new season of life, making the rest the best. I’m convinced right now that life begins at seventy. Of course, when I ask my older friends, they insist that life begins at eighty. I wonder if it really begins at ninety. I’ll let you know when I get there.