You’re never too old to do what you love: Discovering what’s possible at any age

Jill Ebstein

Submitted photo

I was sitting in our first Mahjong class, and the instructor asked us what our background was and how we connected to the game. “Do you have any experience or history with Mahjong?” 

My answer is: I have none. I have friends who play and want me to learn. That’s as far as it goes.

Then comes the following response from a woman who looks a tad older and nervous.

“My mom is 98, and she still won’t move to assisted living. Instead, she picked a building with many Mahjong players, and that’s how she spends her day. Every day. I tried the game once and couldn’t pick it up. But now, I’m wondering what my mom sees in this game that makes every day a day she wants to get up for. I’m hoping I can find out.

What I read in the face of this trepid woman was a desire to overcome her initial failure and learn a game that has been the hallmark of her mom. Everyone in my class had a story.

“I’m getting ready to retire, and I’m told this is a good retirement game. My husband says he will learn, too.”

“We are traveling to Portugal and will be in an ex-pat community. Maybe there will be some Mahjong players I can bond with.”

“I only developed some mechanical skills when I played a few years ago. Now, I’m ready to become good.”

I come home from my first Mahjong session, and there sits an email from a friend on the struggle bus. She is in her 60s, not loving work, not ready to retire and missing her dog of 14 years, who recently went to doggie heaven.

She writes, “I signed up for six Tai Chi classes. Yesterday was the first day, and there were four of us, all of a similar age. It is not as easy as I thought it would be, but I will be going next week.”

I know this was a challenging commitment my friend has made, and she has done it to infuse her life with something new, something from which she can draw energy. I recently signed up with a trainer who is also a professional dancer. I want faster feet, not for dancing, but for tennis.

I am one week away from turning 67, and my trainer is 33. I don’t kid myself that I can look anything close to him in the drills that we do. But I like the idea of stretching myself and leaving my comfort zone. These sessions sound small, like my friend’s Tai Chi classes or the woman learning Mahjong to better understand her mother’s passion for the game.

But here is a different perspective. Maybe we are puffing up our chests with faux pride and saying, “We can do this.” Perhaps it’s our show of courage, reminding ourselves not to go gentle into that good night. Maybe faux pride becomes real pride when we succeed.

Here is what I’ve wondered when I’ve felt challenged in attempting those daunting dance drills. 

How did Laura Ingalls Wilder feel when she began writing her series “Little House on the Prairie” at the ripe age of 65?

Was Adam Vinatieri surprised when, as a 46-year-old field goal kicker almost double the age of most players on the field, he kicked and made a 53-yard field goal?

What made Elliott Carter, an American composer who won the Pulitzer for his Second String Quartet, decide at 90 to write his first opera?

They were each exceptional performers who, in their ninth inning, hit one out of the park.

I remind myself of the women I have engaged with at senior centers. They aren’t famous, and you won’t find their names in any record book. But they are stunning examples of people still full of dreams and believing in themselves. A few have told me of a book they want to write. They are a true inspiration in their late 80s and early 90s as they continue to build their game. 

Tomorrow, I will remind my friend taking Tai Chi classes that the small steps in class are anything but small. I might even pass along a quote that I appreciate from T.S. Eliot. He wrote:  “Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.”

Jill Ebstein is the editor of the “At My Pace” series of books and founder of Sized Right Marketing, a Massachusetts consulting firm. She wrote this for InsideSources.com. Reader reactions, pro or con, are welcomed at AzOpinions@iniusa.org.