Sep. 2020; Age is Just a Number

When you’re young it seems like a thousand years away. When you’re not quite so young it feels like how people describe uncles, aunts, that teacher you had at school who used to look at students in a rather non-teacherly way. And when your knees or back hurts and makes you go “oof” every time you bend over, you know you’re there. Middle age. It always seemed a lifetime away, like maybe you might never even go through that stage of life yourself and just skip right to collecting your pension and taking half an hour to pick fruit at the supermarket. But before you know it, BAM you’re 40, and you feel absolutely no different than you did a few years ago (except the “oof” when you bend over, that bit’s true.) When I was in my teens and twenties, middle age just sounded like you had one foot in the grave, at that age you would have no fun or hobbies or interests in your life, except maybe planning ways to violently kill your spouse. I still absolutely don’t think of myself as middle aged, but in it’s definition I positively am. Half my life is gone, that’s the truth. When you say it out loud, it can turn into a pretty unnerving thought. Half my life is gone.

I’ve never spent much time thinking about what happens when our time is up and we shuffle off this mortal coil. (*Hamlet. I acted in a few of his works many moons ago.) I’m definitely not afraid of the day it comes, but how it arrives may pose more food for thought. (In fact, a few days ago some dodgy tofu made me think it was gonna be much sooner than later.) But I’ve always tried to keep myself somewhat kinda healthy. I’ve never smoked, never had the inclination (or money) for recreational drugs, I don’t eat chocolate or sweets or desserts and I haven’t eaten meat for almost 20 years, plus I try to get out and about as much as I can, stretch the legs and hop on the bike when the sun isn’t trying to turn me into a barbequed crawfish. If it wasn’t for booze I’d practically be a monk. But despite all that, there’s no telling when your number comes up and the grim reaper comes a’ calling and you get to find out if you’re heading upstairs, or to the warm south… I know which way I’ll be going, and I’m sure I’ll see most of my friends there too. ;)

This thing about age has been stuck in my noggin recently, after I read this article thing about the statistics regarding 40 years of sunny Shenzhen. Along with stuff like how many millionaires and percentages of single dogs, was the startling (*alleged) fact that the average age here is 32. Thirty two. I have cameras twice that age. I have a tattoo almost that old. It’s always been clear as crystal that Shenzhen is a young city, but 32 is only 10 years out of uni and you’re done, jog on old timer. Is Shenzhen just the place to make some money for a few years and then leave for greener pastures? Over the years here I’ve seen countless jobs advertised that specify aged 40 or under, which I find both ridiculous and insulting, but then again I would because I’m past that and I take it personally. In other countries the workplace values the experience you gain with years, instead of considering you too old to hack it. In our neighbouring country of Japan you can see restaurant workers and taxi drivers old enough to be your grandparents, and working as a senior citizen there is positively applauded. If we do a leisurely bit of people watching, we can see older people hard at work here too, but the jobs they are undertaking are not the kinds of jobs you very rarely see any younger people doing. People in the parks planting flowers and cutting the grass, people collecting the recyclables and washing the dishes in restaurants. But this poses the question, are they dong this because they want to, or because they have to? Being in my forties is no big deal to me, in fact I mostly enjoy it. I’ve seen and done things that many people of this generation will be too busy working and too stressed to ever see or do. And when the day comes it’s time to meet my maker, that also doesn’t faze me one bit. But being that age, that old age when I may possibly be on my own, struggling to get out of bed and eventually feeling my health steadily declining, now that’s a thought I choose not to dwell on.

How people view age here is something I find really rather curious. As a male, being 40 is considered to be like a fine vintage wine, perfectly balanced and the best time to enjoy. As a 40 year old male here you are thought of as wise, mature, responsible and yet still young enough to date a woman 10 years younger than you (or more) and nobody raises an eyebrow. If a middle aged man here gets divorced there is absolutely zero stigma attached to it, he can carry on as normal and find himself a new young lovely at the envy and admiration of friends and strangers alike. But, oh how things are decidedly skewed for the ladies. I won’t go into detail here about how divorced or widowed ladies are thought of here, for not wishing to upset or offend any of the wonderful women who might be reading this. But it’s not fair and it’s not right. Adding to this is the medieval and truly asinine notion than women over 30 are destined to be spinsters, like 30 years old is the breaking point of desirability. “30? No husband?! Go join the dancing ladies in the square!” In this day and age it’s near impossible to believe anybody thinks this way, but many do. Irrational, illogical, and inane.

One thing that caught my attention recently is the popularity of these dreadful TV shows that attempt to somehow “bring the shine”back to ladies over 30, by getting them to slap on a ton of make up, wear clothes more suited to high schoolers, and dance around pretending nothing has changed in them over the past 10/20/30 years. What absolute drivel. These torturous circus shows are not celebrating these ladies because of their age, their life experience, their talents and their achievements, which I would wholeheartedly enjoy. Nope, they are not celebrating them because they are older, they are backhandedly complimenting them even though they are older. Excuse me, does talent, beauty or ability have an expiration date? After a certain age are you resigned to playing mah jong and pushing babies around all day? “Look! She can still sing and looks pretty good, even though she’s 45! Wow!” It may mean to be flattering and uplifting, but personally I think it’s way off track.

This weeks scribble may deviate somewhat and ramble on a bit, but the main crux is less of an outward question and definitely more of an inward one; where will we go when we are old? Most people will live with loved ones, children, perhaps here in the bustling city or perhaps somewhere a little quieter, kick back and watch the grass grow, enjoy the golden years. My little retirement dream would be to have a small place in the country, play opera music all day, grow some vegetables and have a few dogs running round. Visit the local market couple of times a week, very humble and simple. Over the years dozens of people have asked me “when will you go home?” That’s possibly the hardest question I’ve yet to come up with an answer for. I don’t feel like London is home anymore, I’ve changed too much to go back to that life. I’ve heard similar sentiments from many people here in China and other countries, people who decided to live abroad for a year and stayed away for a lot longer. You alter your perceptions of things, your norms change, your feelings and opinions change. So where will “home” be? I think of Shenzhen as my home, but it’s far from being the retirement capital of Asia. We all have a different path to travel, everyone’s journey is unique. Some marry, have children, and some do not. Some make millions and some do not. Some live life to the fullest, trying to be the best person they can possibly be, and some do not. But we all grow old, that we have no choice about. But how we grow old, now that we do. Life moves fast. Enjoy every moment and make it count, in your own way.