Fear The Reaper?
These things kind of sneak up on you. I turned 59 1/2 today, and while I’m certainly not so excited about birthdays at this stage of my life that I mark and celebrate half-birthdays, this one is remarkable for an inexplicable quirk in the tax code. Today, if I had chosen, I could have withdrawn money from my IRA accounts without being subject to the 10% penalty that would have applied to any such withdrawal in the 35 years since my 25-year-old self started dropping his spare change off at some long-defunct bank. (I’ll still have to pay income tax on whatever I withdraw).
So, I wonder, what’s magic about being 59 1/2? (Ed: less and less!) If I cross an eddyline in my kayak, there’s a palpable realignment as my bow gets jerked in a new direction. I felt no such jolt today as I crossed into the downhill part of my 60th year. Congress, however, must have felt, back in 1974, that 59 1/2 was the very moment when we need to pick up our scythes and start gettin’ the harvest in.
I think I’m going to play the grasshopper on this task for awhile, though, let things ripen and even do some additional planting. It’s been a lousy growing season this year anyway, and I’m hoping for a long Indian summer.
I had no trouble at all, psychologically, when I turned 50 (a gooood long time ago!) but 60 (not long ago at all!) was definitely a tough one. Mainly because so many of my friends are quite a bit younger than I am, and, although enlightened enough to consider 50 “not too old”, to most of them, 60 seems nigh-on-to inconceivable. (sigh)
It only helped a little when someone pointed out that if life can be compared to a baseball game, well, then we’re only really heading into the 7th inning. Not only is there a whole lot of game left, but since occasionally they go into extra innings…
Oh, nevermind. Forget the corny analogies and party while you still can, Phil — I have a feeling it’s pretty much all down hill from here!
My brother says : leave it in there; we’re buyin’ cheap. and he knows.
FA
I’m three years away from 60. I don’t mind staring at it from my late 50s perspective. I may feel differently when I’m knocking on that door, but I tend to operate under the illusion that our generation makes whatever age we are COOL. When I look at young people I have noticed that except for their exuberance, I actually feel bad for them and the times they have inherited.
I can her old Frankie crooning in the background…
Carroll - To continue the baseball analogy - I’m grabbin’ my bat and charging the mound.
Teresa - I’m still chuckin’ money in there, while I continue to work. And, yeah, I’ve been bargain-hunting.
Robin - We passed notes from desk to desk and snuck transistor radios around, they have Facebook and Twitter and iPods; it’s still not a bad time to be a kid. But you’re right, the future’s daunting.
beatriz - there must be a verse in that song about wheelchair girls.
Happy mid-birthday!