Toe in the Water

Don't Ask

Don’t Ask

No doubt we all remember being asked, “What does it feel like to be umpteen (or whatever age you happen to be)?” That sort of thing dies out somewhere along the way to seventy-three. At a guess, it is probably after twenty-one that the question becomes even more pointless than it was before. Although I can imagine it being asked at forty, if only to rub in the terrible jokiness of the occasion.

The truth is that the answer is, “Exactly the same as it was yesterday.” We might wake up one day, knowing that it’s our birthday and fairly excited or aghast at the prospect, but that’s not an age-related experience. It’s all about perception of the celebrations to come. The actual fact of being a year older has absolutely no effect at all on the way we feel.

So the answer to the question, if we’re being truthful, is, “No different.” Unless, of course, we’re younger than twenty-one. Before that, significant changes happen over a year and it might be that achieving a new number could feel rather different (see my essay https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2199996-Now-We-Are-Twelve). That is a rare and special thing, however. Most of my memories of being asked as a child what it felt like to be a year older are of complete bewilderment , there being no difference that I could discern.

In adulthood, the matter of age has no bearing on our feelings at all. We might be a bit depressed at the way the counter keeps mounting and accelerating at the same time. But that’s a product of the modern worship of youth. In the next instant it’ll be forgotten and you’ll carry on as if nothing happened. And that’s because nothing did happen in reality.

There’s more, however. I’m now going to tell you a secret that you must swear to keep to yourself, no matter what happens. Years ago, this secret escaped somehow into Facebook and I was buried under an avalanche of comments that proved impossible to answer individually. I had to resort to what I call “the shotgun response” in the end, merely sending out one message that dealt with all. It was most unsatisfactory and I removed all traces of the secret at the first opportunity.

So I must ask that you promise to keep this information to yourself (and also, please don’t react to it in any way whatsoever). And, presuming that you have taken this oath, I can now tell you that today is my birthday. No, not the first one, obviously. As it happens, I gave the clue several paragraphs ago. I am seventy-three today.

Do you know how it feels to be that age? Precisely the same as it felt yesterday and a million yesterdays before that. Which gives the answer to the inevitable question, even though no one is going to ask it today. It’s just another day with a new number to remember for a year. Nothing to celebrate at all.


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