Septuagenarian; a countable noun, a person 70 years old, or between the ages of 70 and 80. (Webster’s New World College Dictionary).

Oh my, isn’t that an impressive-sounding term? It sounds stately and dignified. It’s a pity that the state of being described as such ain’t quite as impressive. It’s too late to even think of early retirement, and dying young is a long-lost opportunity. Remember what we used to say? Live fast, die young, and leave a good-looking corpse. Yeah, that’s not going to happen.

John Gurda summed it up beautifully in a recent post. “Seventy is the new 50. That strikes me as a psychological comb-over: We’ve reached authentic old age. If 70 is the new 50, dead must be the new 80.” Yep, it’s like lipstick on a pig. She may be prettier but she’s still a pig and old is still old.

From the time I was in my early teens my little Mawmaw called me Ol’ Big Jim. That was to differentiate me from my cousin. We called him Jimmy Hardhead. He and I were nearly inseparable growing up. I reckon I’ve grown into that nickname now. Jimmy Hardhead and I recently reconnected and I can’t wait to spend a day with him reminiscing. I hope his memory is better than mine! When we were growing up, he’d talk the ears of a wooden Indian. I wonder if he still does or if he’s quieter now. I reckon time has a way of changing folks. We will see what we will see.

But! I’m still 279 days away from becoming a septuagenarian. I’d best get about making the end of my sexagenarian days count!

Y’all go around and check out the re-release of New Yesterdays. Completely new cover and it’s now available in hardcover, paperback, and eBook. Soon, it’ll be available as an audiobook. It’s available on most platforms where you get your books. I’m as giddy as a schoolgirl!

Changed Tomorrows, the sequel to New Yesterdays is back in production. I’m writing my pudgy little fingers to the bone. In my next post, I’ll share an excerpt to whet your interest. I can’t wait to see what happens!