Reflections on Not Acting My Age
And how a Buddhist eulogy rocked my world.
As of this writing, I am 64 years old going on 18. Fortunately for me, my wife is the adult in the relationship and keeps me out of trouble. (For more on my better half, check out the linked article below.)
There was a time when I thought I’d never live this long. Longevity doesn’t run in my family. Dad died at 48; mom lived to 63. It didn’t help that both were smokers.
With no role models to guide me, I have no idea how a 64-year-old man is supposed to behave. What I can say for sure is that acting my age doesn’t sound like much fun. So until I see an advantage in doing otherwise, my goal moving forward is to continue not acting my age. How else can I stay young?
We Don’t Do Birthdays — Most of the Time
Birthdays, anniversaries, and other milestone events aren’t a big deal in our home. Neither my wife nor I are into greeting cards, and rarely do we celebrate any of these “special days.” It’s not that we’re cold, uncaring people — quite the opposite! We prefer to celebrate every day.
Well, a few years ago, my wife broke our unofficial “no-birthday-cards” rule and gave me a card that still makes me chuckle. It was a Pages of Time nostalgia card about my “special year” in 1958. According to the card, here’s what the world looked like when little Tim was pooping his pants.
- America launched its first satellite into space.
- The hula hoop was all the rage.
- Alvin and the Chipmunks made their musical debut.
On the economic front, inflation hadn’t yet inflated. The average Joe was pulling down a four-figure salary of $4,650. A new car cost $2,155, a house was $11,975, and a gallon of gas 24 cents. Minimum wage was a buck, albeit with a much bigger bang back then.
Notable celebrities born that year include Sharon Stone, Tim Robbins, Mark Cuban, Ellen Degeneres, Kevin Bacon, Michelle Pfeiffer, and the late Prince and Michael Jackson.
The tragic passing of the last two talents notwithstanding, it’s comforting that I still consider these living celebrities sprightly spring chickens. This might explain why my self-image doesn’t at all match my age. It’s also possible I’m in denial.
We’ve all heard friends lament how it sucks getting old. Yeah, the aches and pains are real. But I would not trade my life experience for all the sushi in Japan.
Anyone with a smidgen of self-awareness knows that, if you’re paying attention, time will humble you. Humility plus time equals wisdom. This is why you couldn’t pay me enough to go back in time and relive my life, even if it were possible. I don’t see the value in giving up hard-earned knowledge to be a clueless young idiot again. Much better to be an immature sixty-four-year-old, thank you very much.
Growing old hasn’t been without its challenges. But I think we can all agree that it beats the hell out of the alternative. And while it’s natural to ponder our mortality, fretting about it is an exercise in futility.
A more constructive approach is to focus on what’s within our control, and this brings us to a powerful Buddhist eulogy that, once upon a time, sent my life in an unexpected, new direction.
My Epiphany
When I lived in Chicago in the early 2000s, a Japanese acquaintance tragically passed away at the age of 29, leaving behind a devastated wife and 3-year-old daughter.
Per Japanese tradition, his funeral was conducted by a Buddhist monk. Before the eulogy, I wondered what the monk could possibly say to console friends and loved ones. I can only speak for myself, but his eulogy packed enough power to change the trajectory of my life. His words are still burned into my memory after all these years:
How can we measure a man’s life? One way is to count the number of years he lived. Twenty-nine years is a very short time to be on this earth. But it doesn’t tell the whole story; it doesn’t tell us how widely and deeply the man lived — the volume of life he lived. Some people live more life in 29 years than others do in a hundred. Tomorrow is promised to no one. But we can all choose to live our lives widely and deeply.
While I am not a religious person, the monk’s eulogy moved me in a way that, until then, I could never have imagined was possible. It inspired me to completely rethink the direction of my life, and I invited my wife and children to do the same. Then together we made a plan.
Two years later, my elder son moved to Japan.
Three years later, my wife, younger son, and I moved to Hawaii.
When my second son left the nest in 2018, my wife and I continued on with our adventure and moved back to Japan, the place where we met and tied the knot 40 years ago.
We are now blissfully retired and enjoy this lovely ocean view from our home on the side of a serene mountain overlooking Sagami Bay.
I’m still an immature goof, but my wife is a saint, so she balances me out. We enjoy each other’s company, stay active, pursue hobbies, travel, and socialize with friends. We cherish every moment we spend with loved ones, and count our lucky stars every night before we go to bed.
Here’s to living life widely and deeply. And to our better halves who keep us out of trouble.
Bonus Round
What happened to number one son who moved to Japan? He got married and, to our utter delight, he and his wife blessed us with a beautiful granddaughter in late 2020. This original tune is about making the best of our time together. Enjoy.
If stories about my cross-cultural triumphs and failures in Japan sound like fun, you can read all about ’em here.
© Tim Sullivan 2022
