The semi-prime of my life
They say life begins at 40, but age is just a number and there really is no better time than the present, writes Mark Barnes
Sixty-five is an extraordinary number. All numbers are, in their own way, but right now, LXV (as it’s written in Roman numerals) is special for me. I’ve been alive long enough to know that. Sixty-five is a semi-prime, the product of only two prime numbers, it is the magic constant of a 5x5 magic square (where the lines, columns and main diagonals all add up to the same number). It is perhaps most fabulous because 65 = 15 + 24 + 33 + 42 + 51 (if you know that, then you really need to get out more often). It was also the lowest score in the 2021 Masters golf tournament. You gotta love 65.
It used to be that 65 was old. If “the days of our years are threescore years and ten” is the nominal span of a human life, then at 65 you have less than 10% of your life left. That hasn’t actually changed that much (life expectancy is now at 73.2 years across the globe), but it does vary considerably (from less than 55 to more than 85), depending on where you live and what standard of living you enjoy there. Women outlive men, by about five years nowadays — who knows whether that’s a good thing or not?
But this is not a science paper, and we’ll never know, individually, what our final score will be. I’m not sure that matters, and I’m pretty sure I’d sign for a “healthier-less” rather than a “preserved-more”.
What does matter is your answer to this question: “Ask yourself how [old] would you be, if you didn’t know the day you were born?” (from the song Don’t Let the Old Man In from the movie The Mule). Go on, ask yourself.
There’s no better time than the present. If you don’t get that, then go back to bed, you’re old already. Life’s about pay-off profiles, risk-return equations, baskets of things, and lots of choices.
If I had to choose an age to be forever, it’d probably be 40. You’ve learnt a whole lot by then; you may even have found your place in the universe, if there is such a thing.
If you’re lucky, you’ve paid off your hi-fi and your student loan, and you don’t owe too much on that car you keep upgrading. You’d better have achieved a measure of success at work if you’re going to afford a private education for your kids, and that bond on the house, which just has to be in the right suburb (where your over-indebted peer group have chosen to show off).
Beyond all this admin, you’re an adult at 40 (no, it’s not 21), whether you like it or not. You’ve found a partner in life (whether you like it or not), and you may have a couple of kids (just like it).
So much for all the visible, measurable stuff, which truly doesn’t count for much. It gets real from here. Knowing who you are, and knowing what you want (for sure), that’s the stuff that starts coming into focus at 40. The good news is that, if you don’t like what you see, you’re still young enough to scrap it all, and start again. Really.
Barring any injuries sustained from an overly adventurous youth (pre-40) your body should still be more or less intact and free of pain (at 65, pain is a vital sign test — if you haven’t got any it’s because you’re dead). You can get fit, starting at 40. The effort required will, of course, depend on the size of the deficit.
You can start studying anything at 40. The difference is that you’re more likely to sign up for things you want to do, rather than have to do, so you’ll find you’re a good student. You’ll find yourself going beyond just what’s required in the assignments. At 40, you’re really the only person marking your homework; you’ll want to pass.
Beyond purpose-education, there’s also life’s real purpose — self-fulfilment. Learn to play a musical instrument, learn to read music, speak isiXhosa, draw a picture with a pencil, catch a fish (and release it), learn the Latin names for butterfly species, make up a bedtime story, build a go-kart.
There’s still time for a higher-order existence, once you’ve dealt with these basics, once you’ve figured yourself out. Only then can you separate the things you care about from those you don’t give a damn about. Only then can you find causes to pursue, battles to rage, people to defend.
Mostly you’ll know what the right thing to do is; often it won’t be the easiest option. Just do it — correcting errors doesn’t get any easier further away from their starting points.
Sometimes, though, “What the hell!” is a good plan, so find the courage to venture out of your comfort zone, lest you waste away within it. I wish I’d done all this, all those years ago.
The good news, for me, is that 65 is the new 40.