On Turning 65

The absurdity of becoming a senior citizen

Mar 29, 2025

I TURNED 65 last week, and I feel fine.

(Actually, I feel lousy, but that’s due to a temporary viral bronchitis, not to aging.)

Sixty-five means many things. It’s the age my grandfather was when I was 10 years old, and therefore this age has always conjured up images of my beloved zeyde, who lived only to 76. With two children in their thirties, I could well be a grandfather by now, but bearing children is not on their to-do lists at the moment (or ever).

But I don’t feel nearly as old as a grandfather – I still feel young and a bit irresponsible, the latter in large part due to being self-employed for most of my life. While I may have shrunk an inch or so and lost a half-step in my gait, I remain relatively active. I can still mow the lawn, and I can still crawl on all fours in the attic in order to change the air filter.

AS I APPROACHED my sixty-fifth birthday, I did not have anything remotely approaching a mental or emotional crisis over aging. I did the requisite application for Medicare and got my card just a couple weeks before I officially became a senior citizen. I recalled how turning 60 seemed like a bigger deal at the time: for that birthday, I had even planned a small party with a few close friends, which got pre-empted by the onset of COVID-19 and the inadvisability of gathering socially. I felt no need for a party or celebration of any kind for 65 – I went out to dinner with my wife, whose birthday is exactly a week before mine, and that was all the commemoration I needed. (Plus, she got me some pretty cool gifts).

I admit, however, that the notion that I am now a senior citizen did take me by surprise a bit. Not all in a bad way, especially when I learned about senior discounts: half-price fare on New York City subways! Ten percent off on Amtrak tickets, and ten percent off at Guido’s if I shop on Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday! Discounted movie tickets! I’m sure there’s more, too, and it does feel good to have a society recognize and honor those who have in some way or other contributed to the greater good for many years. I’m not quite ready to collect Social Security, but I can if I want. At least as of today, there is something of a social safety net for seniors, and hopefully it will remain the third-rail of politics and not be eliminated by those in power who seem hell-bent on destroying any and all “entitlements.” I’ve paid my fair share of taxes over the years; as the son of a CPA, I never was inclined to cheat on my income taxes. I am, indeed, entitled.

I have, however, noticed a slight change in my world view. I do indeed think more about mortality. This plays out in more dedicated scanning of birth years in obituaries, to see how many people my age (or younger) are dying. As it turns out, more than just a few. And while I think I have naturally evolved to being somewhat stoic about death, and while I have made my peace with its inevitability, and while over the past decade or so I have lost some dear intimates and friends, I am in no sort of panic over it. All things must pass, so you might as well just be here now.

THE SENIOR CITIZEN THING seems a bit surreal to me, almost like a joke. One kind friend, who turns 60 today, wrote to me, “I would not have thought you were 65. Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.” All I’m doing is keeping my sense of humor, cultivating my well-honed humility and sense of the absurd, having gratitude and appreciation for my family and friends, and maintaining a healthy level of skepticism toward received wisdoms and cultural consensus. Maintaining healthy boundaries and mostly doing what I want to do (and not doing what I do not want to do) also keeps me going and feeling free and … I want to say youthful, but I don’t think those are qualities unique to young people. If anything, getting older serves to cement these beliefs and approaches.

I continue to have curiosity about the world, about people, and what we are all doing here. I continue to explore new places and ideas and to marvel at other people’s creative efforts. I don’t know how many years I have remaining in this lifetime: It’s a bit of a crapshoot, with parents and grandparents who variously lived into their 70s or 80s or, in my maternal grandmother’s exceptional case, all the way to her 100^th year. But I am good with any and all of this.

And, dear reader, I deeply appreciate you.

In solidarity,

Seth Rogovoy

“Well, I don’t want to go on the roof.” -- George Harrison

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