There are a few bits of advice that might be returned to persistently. I have recommended The Sunscreen Song in this regard, see Sarcasm - it's Irritation (July 2019); When I was Stronger (October 2019); Shrinkflation and SB 959 (October 2021); Hints and Thoughts (October 2022); Purpose (October 2023); Ever Get Old? (January 2025).
I have gotten good response from these quotations. It has always astounded me how many people have overlooked the advice of Baz Lurman and the Sunscreen Song. But some hear music, and others are inspired. There is no accounting for it.
In a similar vein, I was recently introduced to a video produced by a ninety-something (not sure how dated the video is). The purpose is retrospective, and the point is compelling. It is imperative to live life to the fullest. It is, after all, a one-way trip full of potential and opportunity. But, critically, it is one-way. See What are you waiting for? (November 2025).
The message of this nonagenarian is powerful and compelling. It begins with the simple message that time is precious, dispelling inaccuracies such as "60 is a new 40, or whatever nonsense they are selling now." It encourages us to seize the day, and to recognize there may be no tomorrow. It acknowledges the probability for loss and deterioration.
It will be a hard listen for some. There is opportunity to lament past decisions or imperfections. But there is motivation also. It is for us old folks, but every reader should view the whole 20 minutes. In it, this survivor lays out ten lessons she gained the hard way.
She dispels myths and dashes dreams. The style is conversational and inspirational, but also can be a bit depressing. She has seen much, remembers many, and laments their passing. She implores us to realize that tomorrow is coming at us with speed, indifference, and insatiability.
She suggests that your 60s are imperative as a "last real chance to prepare for everything that comes next." And, her thoughts ring with a power that I wish I had understood long before my 60s. She knows what she would tell a 60-year-old self, and I think of what I would tell me in my 40s. Here are her thoughts:
"Lesson number one. Your body is about to change in ways you cannot reverse, and you need to build strength now while you still can."
She recommends exercise, muscle building, practicing balance, and persistence. Actively fight against decline. or you "are going to spend your 80s and 90s trapped in a body that cannot do what your mind wants it to do."
"Lesson number 2. Your friends are going to start dying, and you need more of them than you think."
She recommends making friends and keeping friends. Some old enough to know your history, and new ones that are likely to be with you in 20 years.
"Lesson number 3. Have the conversations about death and money now, while everyone is still healthy enough to have" those conversations.
She laments not knowing how to care for her parents, because they could not communicate what they wanted. She was too late asking them. She sought clarity, but instead traversed the care path alone, guessing, and confused. She searched for documents, clues, and signs.
"Lesson number 4. Retirement will not save you. It will expose you."
She went from being a leader, a title, to just plain Lorraine. She had no deadlines, no goals. She accidentally discovered things she loved, like painting, the library, and simple connections. She warns, "If you are in your 60s, and your job is your whole identity, you are heading for a cliff."
"Lesson number 5. You have less time with your spouse than you think, and most of it will not be the healthy, active years you are imagining."
She describes the onset of illness, the loss of her spouse, and their collective failure to maximize their time with each other. She celebrates what they did, but laments their shortcomings. When they "slowed down" they did not accomplish as much together, in terms of travel, enjoyment, etc.
"Lesson number 6. Forgive everyone now, because later you will not have the chance."
She laments holding grudges. She missed opportunities to speak with and enjoy the good in people. Some passed without recognition or reconciliation. She sees grudges as a waste of time and opportunity. She wishes she could speak with those who passed before she recognized their worth outweighed their burden.
"Lesson number 7. Your adult children do not need your advice. They need your presence."
She describes letting go of the role of parent or advisor and merely living in the moments. She advocates for maximizing the connections and enjoying the opportunities. She sees that offering her children "unsolicited advice" was "telling them I did not trust them to figure it out themselves."
"Lesson number 8. Write things down, because you are going to forget everything."
She notes memory issues with the day-to-day. She knows that is normal, but laments it. She finds it terrifying. She knows that only she remembers certain events, people, and histories. She says to write it all down now while you do. She laments not beginning her journal ten years earlier.
"Lesson number 9. You are going to be scared, and courage is doing it anyway."
She recounts much loss and the challenge of aging. She describes fear and terror at loss and change. She is compelling and frank. She cautions that ignoring the inevitability of aging and loss is naive and that it will not forestall the change and evolution. This is prophetic.
"Lesson number 10, and this is the one I need you to hear. The last 30 years go faster than the first 60."
She says that decades passed in moments. She cannot remember where it went. She says seasons blur, years collapse into each other, days are wasted. She laments losing her husband, whom she still nonetheless talks to daily. She wishes she could grab her 60-year-old self by the shoulders and shake some sense of urgency into her.
That is scary as can be. Number 10 stopped me in my tracks. I have thought much of my approaching end, and striven to deliver some thoughts before that hits. I will be adjusting that soon, with some writings I have put off too long.
I long ago recognized my mortality, and frankly, I am a little surprised to have lived this long. I have pushed limits, taken chances, and ignored needs. I have striven, and largely failed.
I take Lorraine's video for what it is worth. I cannot learn everything from it. I cannot move forward from here any more perfectly than I traveled here. Perfection is a fallacy, misdirection, and distraction. But I can do better. I can focus more. I can be more, see more, and enjoy more. And I can wear sunscreen, thanks, Baz. I can go walk three miles right now.
I will. Will you?


