60 is the new 40 (or, how’s that aging going?)

50 was just ten years ago; half a century of living that went by so fast.

Big changes in the last decade, as time sped up and the past became larger. Some things solid, as in chunks of time, but ephemeral, as in memory.

At 60 I am thrice the age of my college students. Decades measured in classes taught, images made, books constructed, writings written, public and private.

Sixteen years of a husband, a marriage, love.
No children, no pets. No regrets.

Thirty-five years of a teaching career. 

Recognition as an artist, beginning in my fifties. 

Better late than never, better late to savor now.

60 a big turning point. Some solidification of the ego structure, some wisdom. Enough retrospect to look back and over. Enough understanding from both sides of the lens, the desk, the mirror. 

Wrinkles now and enough grey hair to complain about, but who’s complaining? Most of it is still brown, and long enough to put into a bun, as if.

Really.