I’m now officially 60.<\/p>\n
I should give some backstory. As he aged out of his 50s, my father often remarked, with some wonder, that he was the first male in his family he knew of who had lived beyond the 50s. He ultimately lived to age 88. He was, for most of his life, a very active man–he loved sports, and the outdoors. He loved fishing and hunting. But the last few years of his life, he was bedridden and in considerable misery. During those years, he more than once remarked, “What have I done to deserve to live so long?” That once had been his goal.<\/p>\n
If my father’s knowledge of family history is accurate, I’ll be the second male in our line to live beyond our 50s. I hope I have many years yet to live. That said, I hope for a quicker and cleaner death than he had. Before the “miracles” of modern medicine we’ve been graced with in recent decades, people used to die when it was time, without so much lengthy, agonizing drama. I think the Vikings had a very intuitive appreciation of this: their ideal was not to die sick and old in bed, but with a sword in their hand, while they were still vibrant and alive. There’s a lot to be said for that, although the whole “sword in hand” thing is no longer practical.<\/p>\n
Forgive the somewhat morose nature of this post–it comes with crossing a significant threshold.<\/p>\n