In The Story

Saturday, October 04, 2025

I grew up in the 1950s and ’60s, when life expectancies were shorter than they are today. Back then, reaching eighty-five seemed almost mythical — something that happened to “very old people,” but not to all of them.

Yet here I am, at eighty-five, still alive, active, and managing the daily demands of home life while also working a full-time job outside my home. Over the past few years, as I’ve learned how to work in retail environments, I’ve encountered ageism — sometimes subtle, sometimes not. People have told me outright: “You shouldn’t be working, you should be enjoying your twilight years!” or “You’ve earned your rest — why are you here working?”

My life lessons and learning are that staying engaged, helpful, and connected is my way of enjoying and making the most of them.

After experiencing uninvited confrontations related to aging, I have elected not to answer when people ask about my age. Let them look. Let them guess. I’ll let my energy and presence speak for me. Age is only a number; contribution is a choice.

I’m now rethinking somewhat, for Jane Fonda has begun resurfacing in the public eye again. And, I find myself noticing her with renewed interest. She has always been bold — both in her career and in her willingness to age openly, in plain view of the world. Now, while approaching eighty-eight, she is again speaking out, supporting free speech and democracy — still active, still fearless, still herself.

Her appearance has changed, naturally, but not in ways that erase her. She’s slender, stylish, and poised. If she’s had work done, it’s subtle. She lets her neck, however, tell the truth of her years — and to me, that’s oddly comforting. I see her as not hiding from the passage of time.

To me, Jane Fonda has become more than just an actress or an activist. She is a symbol of endurance. Her journey, which we have witnessed growing up alongside her, is a testament to her resilience and strength. She symbolizes the permission to remain visible, to express opinions, to care deeply, and to stay part of the ongoing conversation. She shows that relevance is not confined to youth.

At eighty-five, my private reality is a testament to the meaningfulness that comes with caring for animals and responsibilities. I never expected to live this long, feel this alive, or be this responsible. The unexpectedness of my current situation keeps life interesting. Yet, I still work full-time, on my feet, solving problems and engaging with people. And when the day is done, I return home to care for my animals and keep my world running. It’s not easy, but it brings a profound sense of purpose.

To people who suggest I should slow down, relax, and “enjoy life,” it’s my work and routines that bring me joy — they give shape and purpose to my days. I’ve never had cosmetic surgery and don’t want it. Instead, I take pride in how I present myself: in my clothing, my interests, my energy. My mind is clear, my curiosity intact.

Without family nearby, my workplace provides me a sense of belonging — through friendly interactions, shared goals, and the simple recognition that I am still making a contribution. Those exchanges keep me grounded.

And now, to my surprise, Jane Fonda is becoming a role model, not for her fame or glamour, but for her persistence and grace. She reminds me that aging isn’t about looking young — it’s about staying in the story.

Maybe that’s what aging is teaching us: not how to fade away, but how to keep showing up. Jane Fonda illustrates that we can grow into our later selves with intention, not apology. She is still visible, still learning, still engaged — and so am I, in my own way.

Inside, I don’t feel old. I think seasoned — aware, shaped, and, in many ways, more certain than ever. My work keeps me connected; my mind keeps me company. And if I find a mirror in Jane Fonda, it isn’t in her polish or fame — it’s in her refusal to disappear.

At eighty-five, I’m not winding down. I’m still becoming — quieter, perhaps, but clearer. Still part of the conversation. Still in the story.

— Diana