LIVING IN THE RED ZONE

The great Kareem Abdul-Jabar, from his Substack (well worth subscribing to). I agree with every word:

I recently turned 76, and for the past six years, I’ve been living in the Red Zone. The Red Zone is when famous people keep dying at around the same age as you are. (Last month Tim Bachman, co-founder of Bachman-Turner Overdrive, died at the age of 71. So did Lasse Wellander, the longtime guitarist for ABBA. He was 70.)

The Red Zone is like the section of a car’s gas gauge just past E that, when the needle hovers over it, you’re never sure exactly how many miles you have left before the car conks out. You’re still going strong, but you’re not sure for how long.

Of course, it’s not just famous people dying, but those are the ones I read about with their 70-something ages prominently displayed like flashing warning lights directed at me.

I don’t dwell on death. I don’t fidget over impending doom. I’m not crafting pithy last words. (I might just use Oscar Wilde’s last words: “My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One or the other of us has to go.”) Quite the opposite. Like most people over sixty, I’m actually happier than when I was younger (“Older Americans upbeat about aging, future”).

Two reasons I’m happier: 1. I have perfected the power of “no.” If I don’t want to do something, I just say no. I’m not chasing after a career anymore, so I only do what interests me or helps someone else. I can’t be guilted. 2. I don’t worry about what people think of me. I accomplished what I wanted as a player, as a writer, and as a person. Sure, I made mistakes, and there are things I regret, but I’ve come to terms with them. If my records are broken, I don’t feel diminished. Want to say something nasty about me on social media? Have at it. It affects me as much as a barking dog in the next neighborhood.

Religions, philosophers, and writers all tell us the road for all of us ends at either “good death” or “bad death.” That is the ultimate prize—or punishment. Good death is when we arrive at the end and are happy because we have lived a life in keeping with our values, knowing we have done good and inspired love in others. Bad death is when we reach the end knowing we have betrayed our values, exploited others for our own gain, and are alienated from our true selves and isolated from others.

A couple weeks ago, I vacationed with all my children and grandchildren. I was immersed in love and gratitude. That, too, is the Red Zone. I am never past loving them, guiding them, doing all I can to help them—but I am past being responsible for them. I can just appreciate them for who they are.

I still have passions and goals besides my friends and family. I have books and documentaries I’m writing. I have work with my Skyhook Foundation promoting STEM education. I have social injustices I want to fight against. And I have this Substack and the interaction with my subscribers.

Living in the Red Zone brings uncertainty about the future. But who doesn’t face that every day? For me, the joys of what I do daily far outweigh any concerns about how many years I have left. As long as I spend them still doing what I love, I’ll be just fine.

You can suport That’s Another Fine Mess with your paid subscription for only $7/month or $70/year, saving $14.

Comments are for paid subscribers.