0 to 100 - Your Choice

If you could live to age 100, would you go for it?

I’m a participant in the New England Centenarian Study, a study looking at the role genes play in families that have at least one centenarian.

No, I am not 100 years of age. But my Dad lived to 101.

When I mention this to someone, I often hear; You have good genes. You’re going to live past 100. I’ve heard it so often, that it’s like a daily affirmation.

But am I going to live to 100? Do I even want to?

I used to think hitting 100 was a worthy goal. But after being a supporting actress along with my siblings, in our personal family Centenarian Documentary, I may have changed my mind.

You know, 100 is just a number.

What is it with our fixation on the chronological number associated with one’s date of birth?

If I didn’t know my birthdate, I wouldn’t guess my age to be that number. In fact, that number often surprises me if I have to verbalize it.

It irks me to be labeled a specific age based on a date that I had absolutely no say in choosing. Because if I’m doing somersaults in the pool and feel 10, then doggone it, I’m 10.  

Don’t you often feel a different age than the one based on your birthdate?  

Maybe it’s time to shift how we ask about age. How about; What age do you identify with today?  

I came up with this brilliant idea after recalling the first time I was asked what my pronoun was. I was attending a yoga class and sitting cross-legged with the other participants ready to show off some of my Yogi pretzel stretchy moves.

Then the instructor asked everyone to introduce themselves. Oh, she said, and please include your pronoun.

My blood pressure spiked.

Were we going to test everyone’s English knowledge? I thought. I don’t remember what a pronoun is.  Isn’t this a yoga class?

As I hyperventilated out of my Zen, I tried to pull up long lost memories of elementary school English, but I couldn’t remember learning much about pronouns - because back then, I was more interested in reading the steamy pirate novel hidden under my desk.  

Snapping my attention back to the yoga class, I focused on my fellow yogi’s. One after another, they repeated this formula –My Name is... and then a pronoun. 

The choices for the pronoun seemed to be he/him, she/her and they/them.

I got it. I was supposed to choose one of those particular words, which I deduced are pronouns, and attach it to me.  Halleluiah!  I finally learned what a pronoun was.

100, here I come.

Hi, my name is Rebecka. Call me whatever you want, I said. I don’t care.

Some cool glances shot my way for not following the introduction ‘formula’.

I agree though, everyone should get to choose how they describe themselves, and I am more than happy to call anyone whatever they want to be called. As long as I get to call myself what I want.   

Pronouns are just to limiting for me. I need more. I need nouns. Because sometimes I identify as a TREE. Which is a noun. Trees are deep, grounded and present, bending and swaying with whatever comes their way; characteristics I strive to adopt in my life. And other days I identify as SUNSHINE. Also a noun. Because I feel warm and bright.  And some days I identify as age 16 and I adopt a super snarky attitude.   

Maybe that’s what it takes to get to 100.

Be uniquely you. Decide for yourself how you want to be described on any given day.

That’s how my 101-year-old Dad lived his life. If asked to introduce himself, he would say, I am Edgar. What else is there?

 If there is one gene of his that I hope got downloaded into me, I’d like it to be the one that made him unapologetically himself.

Because being oneself is enough.

I am Rebecka.

Life. It’s yours. Go all in.

Centenarian- a person that reaches 100 years of age. In other words, sort of old.

Snarky – snappish!

New England Centenarian Study (bu.edu)