The 60s absolutely rock, as far as I'm concerned. Other than some painful patches in my 50s when the learning curve was steeper than usual, I would say I've enjoyed every decade of my life more than the one before. Now I'm 68, one year from finishing my MFA, and well into the process of launching my second career as a writer.

I won't say hurry up, as I believe in savoring every year--okay so maybe 2020 sucked, but you know what I mean--but from my spot on the venerable bench, I say your attitude entitles you to an extra candle 1 year early and a the title of honorary sexagenarian.

Retired psychologist, wordsmith, teacher, MFA candidate. Buy me coffee:

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