My son and I shared a birthday this week; I turned 60 and he became 18. 

There’s a wonderful symmetry in the fact I am entering what some call the “third age” while he is graduating to the second and becoming an adult. 

Of course, those traditional demarcations aren’t what they used to be. People no longer retire in their early 60s. Many live longer and healthier and some – like my Dad – even waterski in their 80s. At the same time, young adults take longer to launch. 

Sixty is a weird age. I’ve never felt more capable mentally or more enthusiastic. We live in a modern age of Gutenberg where I can use sites like this to publish my thoughts and connect with thousands of people. 

And yet, at 60 it’s hard not to look ahead and see the looming limitations and worry that they could arrive suddenly in the form of a stroke or other physical calamity. 

Sooner or later everyone eventually has a Taj Mahal moment, that time when because of health or mobility issues you are no longer able to make the journey to see that palace in India. Your bucket list shrinks to accommodate what can be done. 

The gap in age between my son is close to the same as with my father. My father is 98 and still healthy, so based on that I may have at least another 38 years. Or maybe not.

One thing I think a lot about these days is the limits to communication. 

My son is not interested in what I’m doing. Just like at his age, I wasn’t interested in what my parents were doing. By the time I became a dad and had lots of questions for my parents, they had retired and mentally moved on. They didn’t remember what it was like to have little kids. 

It makes it hard to share perspective across the generations. 

Dad recently told me that one regret he had was not taking more risk. He said, for example, that he probably should have bought beachfront instead of a summer home a block from the shore. Back in the day, prices weren’t much different. Now, there is an ocean between them. 

I was surprised to hear him say that. He used to argue that buying a block away from the ocean would protect you from storm damage. It was a calculation to avoid risk that I admired about him. 

Now, here he was, at 98, telling me at 60 that I should be bolder. 

Meanwhile, I’m telling my kids to take risks. Play bigger.  

At any age, it’s always easier to say than to do.