Looking Back to My 60s, and Forward to 70+

Plus, a few resolutions upon sliding into my eighth decade

John Ficarra,

AARP

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Published January 31, 2025

Illustration of a person joyfully jumping

Freelance writer John Ficarra is comfortable with who he is and where he is in his life — as he leaves his 60s behind

Lehel Kovacs

This will be my last Life 6.0 column. No, I’m not retiring from writing. I still have plenty of stories to tell and opinions to espouse. It’s just that AARP has this pesky rule that to write the Life 6.0 column, you have to actually be in your 60s. And, alas, I have just forever exited mine.

My 60s were ... surprising. I retired right before COVID hit. The pandemic scrambled any plans I had to travel the world but, in a way, that’s turned out to be a blessing. While confined to home, I rediscovered freelance writing and my love of stringing words together. Today, I’m never more content than when I’m working on a new essay. The thought of getting on a plane or cruise ship holds much less allure than it once did.

I enter my 70s with no fears or illusions. Despite recent open-heart surgery, I’m in relatively good health, mobile, able to drive. If my biggest complaints are arthritis in my big toe and my inability to recall the names of movies and the actors who appeared in them, I am truly blessed.

I’m also comfortable with who I am and where I am in my life. I’ve come to terms with the fact that some things I dreamed for myself when I was younger are just never to be. Filthy rich and living in a seaside mansion on Cape Cod? Probably not going to happen.

Other things that I never dreamed of came along and brought me joy and happiness beyond anything I could have imagined, the biggest example being fatherhood. I entered parenthood reluctantly. Now I can’t imagine my life without my daughter.

In my 60s, I learned to be less judgmental of others. At the end of the day, everybody is just trying to figure it out. People’s lifestyle, thoughts and politics are formed by the lives they’ve lived, the highs they’ve experienced, the disappointments they’ve endured. Sometimes these things lead them to make different choices or reach different conclusions than I might, but that’s OK. It’s rarely malicious or worth arguing about. I just let it go and move on. I’ve never been more at peace.

Which brings me to the door marked “70.” As I walk through it, there’s nothing on my bucket list, other than not to kick the bucket, but I have made a few resolutions:

I resolve to read more books, some of which have been patiently waiting their turn on my shelves. But I also vow to stop beating myself up if I don’t get to all of them. Reading is a joy, not a chore, and besides, just seeing my books lined up gives me indescribable comfort.

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I resolve to be active but smart; no more cleaning gutters, no more shoveling snow. I’ve shoveled a glacier of the white stuff in my lifetime and have the chiropractor receipts to prove it. The Bible says to everything there is a season, and as I enter my eighth decade, my only seasons shall be baseball, football and basketball.

I resolve, as patriarch, to keep my mouth shut and offer sage advice to family members only if they ask for it — not always easy when I see them making avoidable youthful mistakes.

I resolve to no longer get into arguments with telemarketing scammers who call and ask if I’ve received my new Medicare card when we both know there is no new Medicare card! I promise just to hang up.

I resolve to spend more time with family and friends. And to make “yes” my default answer whenever one calls and asks if I’d like to do something, no matter how much I’d rather just lie on the sofa and nap.

And I firmly resolve to act immature every chance I get, because life is a whole lot better with some laughs.

Lastly, I resolve to reflect back on my parents and grandparents, now gone, and how they navigated their 70s, 80s and beyond with grace and dignity, and let them be my inspiration as I welcome the Big 7-Oh.