Judy Goldman’s latest book, The Rest of Our Lives, posits that, no matter how old we are, we’re all ‘still kids grappling.’
by Page Leggett
If you’ve ever been surprised to be called “ma’am” or “sir” — since you’d swear that you and the (relative) youngster who’s “ma’am’ing” you are the same age — you’ll relate to Judy Goldman’s new memoir.
“Yesterday reminds me of today because inside, I’m just a kid,” writes Goldman in the prologue to The Rest of Our Lives, her eighth book. “Regardless of our age, we’re all still kids grappling.”
We age. Our bodies change. Our laugh lines grow more pronounced.
My hair is now tinged with gray, but I’m still the awkward teenager hoping Sun-In plus peak tanning hours will lighten my mousy brown hair. I’ll turn 60 in September, yet I’m surprised when I get a senior discount. Wasn’t it just yesterday I was thrilled to get carded?
What a relief to know that Goldman, 83, still feels the same way. The latest book from Charlotte’s beloved author of Child, Together and Losing My Sister isn’t just for the folks eating dinner at 5 p.m. at Shady Acres.
“I was afraid, because I was 80 when I was working on this book, that I’d end up writing a Hallmark card — you know, doilies and rainbows,” Goldman says. “I didn’t want to write that book, so I was always pushing against it. I wanted to avoid sentimentality, but aging is a sentimental subject. I really hoped this would be sort of a guide for 40-year-olds, 80-year-olds and everybody in between.”
Our conversation has been lightly edited for brevity and clarity.
Do you believe that wisdom is the great gift that comes with aging? Are we really older and wiser — or just older?
My husband — we’ve been married 58 years — says that “On The Other Hand” should be on my gravestone because I see two sides to every issue, which can make life confusing. So, yes and no are the answers to your question.
Yes, we have the benefit of experience, and that gives us a certain amount of wisdom. But we’re
still encountering the unfamiliar. Every stage, including old age, is uncharted territory we’re trying to figure out.
Yes! Early in the book, you say you agree with two friends in your breakfast group — one who thinks about death every day and one who never contemplates it.
Right. I have some of each inside me. I’m living my life as though I’m 40. I’m busy. I’m doing a lot of the same things I did when I was 40. I’m writing, walking, seeing my friends, having people over for dinner. But I think about death a lot, and I act as though it’s never going to come.
I think my fascination with old age comes from not having grandparents. I was always so envious of my friends who did. What you don’t have, you’re curious about. My children didn’t have their grandparents very long, so that’s been sort of a theme in our family. It’s why I’m amazed that I’m 83.
We’re basically always the same people — just in different bodies.
You write at one point, “I forget I’m old.” I totally get it. I don’t feel 60 — but the world often reminds me I am. Qualifying for a senior discount is shocking.
We’re always shocked at every age we are. We turn 20, and we’re shocked. We turn 40, and we’re shocked. I was shocked to be 80. But 80 is like 17. A lot of the things I was concerned about then, I’m still concerned about.
You also write that your family was always “in love with beginnings. Endings not so much.” Is there anybody in your life who handles endings well? Or who handles change and the unexpected well?
Oh, my father was so good at what I’m not good at. He was good at facing uncertainty.
He had a saying: “If you’re going to do business, you have to do it in today’s climate.” What he meant was that you have to accept; you can’t have regrets …
At my age, the question of “Where do we live?” is ever-present. One minute, Henry and I feel fine here [in the condo to which she and her husband downsized]. And the next minute, I’m panicking that we haven’t moved to [a retirement community].
What do you hope readers take away from this book? Or do you even think about that?
I didn’t have any goals for the reader in mind when I was writing. I was just trying to be as real about this period of time as I could be. That was really my goal — to be honest in every way. But now that I’ve written it, I would like for readers to see how similar old age is to young age.
In this society, where there is such a premium placed on youth, we need to also place a premium on aging. As an old person — an 83-year-old — I don’t want reverence, exactly. I just think it adds to the richness of a person’s life to see aging as not so foreign, not so alien.
I was fascinated by this anecdote from the book: One of your best friends lost her middle-aged daughter to cancer. And her daughter said she didn’t feel like she was going to die. That was the night before she died. Do you know people who have been ready for death?
I think we’re all pretty good at denying the obvious. I don’t think we live life as though there’s going to be an ending. I don’t think we entertain that thought easily. Again, we’re better at beginnings than endings.
I had breast cancer when I was, maybe, 70. I thought I’d appreciate each day I was given after that. But I don’t think you can sustain that attitude. The everyday moves in, and we become preoccupied with that. And maybe we’re meant to be preoccupied with taking the recycling out and picking up our prescriptions — to avoid thinking about the inevitable.
I’ve heard you say you’ll finish an early draft, print it out and arrange the pages on the floor to determine the best way to structure your book. Did you do that this time?
The easiest way to structure a memoir is chronologically. And that’s what I did with this book. But I didn’t know that’s what I’d do until I was nearly finished.
Everything I do in writing is by instinct. I really believe that your subconscious does a lot of the work for you if you just take your time, listen and pay attention. I don’t worry a lot about structure in the early drafts — only near the end.
Are you working on another book?
I do have something in the works, even though I said Child (published in 2022) would be my last. My family has laughed for years that I always say my most recent book was my last. I keep finding more to write about. SP
Judy Goldman will read from her new memoir, The Rest of Our Lives, at Park Road Books on May 6 at 7 p.m. The cover art was designed by Goldman’s daughter, Charlotte artist Laurie Smithwick.
