Most of the time, we don’t appreciate growing older. I recall a few exceptions — such as noticing my agonizing self-consciousness fading as I passed my teens, or my migraines and allergies waning after several decades of suffering. Now, in the great plague of 2020, I am experiencing the most powerful example ever. I feel so very lucky that I am reaching the twilight of my career and indeed my life. (I’m 65.) I have had my run — I enjoyed the wild run of my misspent youth (just pre-AIDS), I was able to work without interruption for over 40 years, and to travel widely and freely. I was able to revel in concerts and movies and shows and parties for over six decades, and I raised my children without having to teach them algebra (which wouldn’t have gone well).
As it is, despite these manifold blessings, I feel pretty cheated right now, with the cancellation of so many activities which impart sweetness to life. But how would I feel if I were 20? Massively depressed, I’m sure! I totally get it, college kids, when you just have to go to a party or have casual sex — although of course I wish you wouldn’t, not right now.
But in 2020, it’s a relief and a blessing to be so old that these impulses have atrophied. I’m glad I’m not just starting out, with a furious hunger for the world and for experience, with everything shut down and inaccessible. I’m glad I’m not under to the gun to get a career into high gear, with so many roadblocks in my path. I’m glad I’m old enough to be more or less contented in my own company, and to have burned off most of the intense moods of youth.
My sympathies are with you, young people everywhere. I hope you get your turn at the action before you’re too mature to enjoy it!
Linnetontheleaf 
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