The Prime Of life

When is that, exactly?

I just celebrated yet another birthday. At 69 years of age am I “Over the hill” or “Past my prime”? If you think the answer is yes, I’m about to tell you where you can stick that label.

Nine guys (and a couple of AI aliens) excelling at various endeavors. Which is in his “Prime”?

To begin with, even the English language is to fault for the perception that with age comes the end of one’s “prime”. In the Central American culture in which I now live, indeed in all of the America’s from Mexico on down, the languages get it right. In English, I say “I am sixty-nine years old.” In Spanish, the sentence is “Tengo Sesenta y nueve años”, which directly translates to “I have sixty-nine years.” Rather than being viewed as a negative, the Latino culture sees the collection of years as a badge of honor. Latin Americans honor their elders, most of whom still live with their families, showing great respect for the experience and knowledge they have accumulated through the years.

In too many developed countries, older residents are ignored, jammed in “old folks homes” and generally shunned from any productive role. I, myself, was shown the door by my employer in The United States because I had crossed the 60 year-old line, despite the fact that my career was as robust as anyone on staff. Yes, there are laws about age discrimination, but when the company says you will lose your severance pay if you file a discrimination claim, the message is clear. Not only will you lose your severance, but they’ll tie you up in court until the day you die.

Since being fired for having more than sixty years: I have been a producer/editor on several documentaries. I have published five books and have two more in various stages of completion. I have narrated dozens of audio books. I have begun this commentary on modern life. I have moved to a new country and come a very long way in my ability to communicate in the country’s native tongue. Some of my books have gotten noticed by Hollywood and may one day make it to the screen. More life, much more, is still waiting for its time.

All of this is to suggest that the notion of being in the Prime of life is a mirage. As I look back, I cannot identify one period of time that was more “prime” than today. Sure, there might have been a time when I could run a bit faster than I do now, but I would still give my younger self a good run for the money. Was my writing better than it is now? Absolutely not! Those years of knowledge have given me a richer collection of experiences from which to draw when I hit the keys. Was my life ever any better than it is in this very moment? Once more, a resounding No!

Maybe I’m a “later bloomer”, which is another label we like to use, but I don’t think so. I’m just a person who doesn’t believe in putting myself in any form of box, wherein I don’t permit myself to do or try something just because I have 69 years. I was “In my prime” yesterday. I am “In my prime” today. I will be again tomorrow, and ever so until I don’t have another day.

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