Jung Tsai
After my retirement and the passing of my wife, I began to forget my birthday, as no one reminded me of it. Today, after returning from my daily exercise, I noticed two messages—one from my daughter-in-law, asking which restaurant I preferred, and another from a Taiwanese friend wishing me 生日快樂 (Happy Birthday). Ah, so today is the day.
When I was a child, turning eighty seemed like a distant milestone. My father never even came close to it—nor did my uncles or grandfather. That entire generation never made it this far. This is uncharted territory for me, and I struggle to grasp it. That is how I honestly feel.
Confucius once said:
“At 30, you are established;
At 40, you are free from doubt;
At 50, you understand the will of Heaven;
At 60, your ears are attuned;
At 70, you can follow your heart’s desires without overstepping the line.”
And then—nothing. He either could not see beyond that point or purposely left it for our imagination. I do not know. But I do know this: it is now our duty to fill that empty space and shape what comes next.
Today, more adult diapers are sold for senior citizens than for babies. People over 65 make up 28% of the population and will reach 35% within a decade. With a longer life span comes new challenges—physical changes, economic burdens, mental distress, and spiritual demands. We must prepare ourselves accordingly. But I am confident. We have come a long way, and we will continue forward.
That evening, Basilico—the best Italian restaurant in Millburn—delivered my favorite seafood dishes. Meanwhile, my daughter’s family was on their way to Sacramento for a business conference. They called to wish me a happy birthday and told me about a big family gathering planned for June in Orlando.
After a heartfelt combination of violin, piano, guitar, and singing of “Happy Birthday to You, Agon!” we lit the candles. It was a moment to make a wish. This year, my wish was different. Solemnly and silently, I spoke from my heart:
PLEASE! CEASEFIRE!
My son handed me a glass of whiskey with ice and said, “Don’t go to Ukraine if the fighting is still on.” I needed to get drunk badly that night. I went to bed early, only to wake from a nightmare—I was in a crucial job interview for the newly established Tri-State Major University, applying for the position of chancellor. I woke up in a sweat. What could it mean? I had no answer.
Like the Wild West, explored by Lewis and Clark at President Jefferson’s request in the early nineteenth century, we—the eighty-year-olds—are embarking on our own expedition into new frontiers. There are still dreams to fulfill, habits to cultivate, gifts to give back, and places to see. If one person’s desire can change the world, imagine the power of our collective will.
We must learn by doing, adapting to every situation—better or worse—along the way. And we must not, under any circumstances, exploit the struggles of others for their youth and inexperience.