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TWENTY-EIGHT
IT’S GREAT TO BE SEVENTY-ONE
Keep smiling
♦
ome of my friends are my age. Many are younger than me. All of
them are excited for life. My hashtag on social media is
#ItsGreatToBe71 because I’m enjoying it so much.
People seem to be scared of aging, based on the comments I read
on social media. When they see my posts, it makes them feel better
about their future and their wrinkles. I also get many interviews
about why I am enjoying my age and why older people should be
revered, appreciated, relevant, and stylish.
One reason I’m not afraid of aging is that every decade of my life
has been better than the last. My twenties were terrible except for my
three wonderful children; my thirties were pretty bad, too; my forties
were so busy just to survive; in my fifties I was new in New York and
trying to get my business started and finding friends; and in my
sixties, I was more settled with my kids and grandkids and work.
Now, I’m busier than ever. I didn’t expect that, but I’m loving it.
The other reason I am not afraid of aging is that my mother set
quite an example. When my father passed away, my mother was
sixty-one. He was seventy-three and died in a plane accident, along
with my twin sister’s husband. It was utterly tragic—it seemed
impossible. In our minds, he was Superman.
They had been so happily married, we thought she would never
recover. We didn’t know what would happen to her; she had always

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been there with him, helping him, supporting him. We were so
wrong. She blossomed. In her mid-sixties, she started taking art
lessons. She took up wood carving, pottery, and painting. She
traveled around the country, doing landscapes and houses, in oils
and watercolors. She would exhibit her work regularly in Pretoria.
She was also a photographer and began exhibiting her photos and
winning awards. You will notice that some of her photos of us in the
desert are beautiful. We didn’t appreciate how much talent she had.
She passed her silver hair on to me but not her artistic talent. In her
seventies, she then took up etching, a difficult process by which you
use a needle to etch a metal plate, then use various chemicals and
machinery to eventually press it onto paper. She got all her own
equipment and learned how to use it all. She was in South Africa’s
Who’s Who Book of Artists. She worked day and night on her art. All
this led to a twenty-two-year career as an artist in South Africa.
When she was eighty-six, she moved back to Canada and started
all over. It was when Zip2 was sold, and we had the resources to fly
my mom and sister to set them up in Canada and be nearer to the
family. Other people were worried that my mom would miss her
friends. When I called and asked her about it, she said she wasn’t
worried at all, as all her friends were dead. She was drawing, still
doing etching (she had brought her equipment with her), and
exhibiting regularly. At the time, my sister Lynne was living with her
and teaching dancing and took up digital art at fifty-nine, too. But
my mom was just getting started.
At ninety-four, she was shaking too much for fine art, but instead
of slowing down, she took advantage of technology and learned how
to make digital art. At ninety-six, she was shaking too much for even
that, so she retired and then read voraciously and followed all our
travels on a map. She said in her nineties she was the happiest she
had ever been. I think we have something to look forward to.
I remember going with her to the “oldies” tea, a social gathering of
seniors, in a small town in Alberta. It was a miserable experience
because they were all complaining.
We left, and I asked, “Are they becoming grumpy as they get
older?”

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She said, “No, they were grumpy when they were younger.”
So, if you are a grumpy person, you can practice now to change;
otherwise you’re going to be grumpy when you get older.
• • •
My mother was incredible to be around. Her wits were about her
until she was ninety-eight, when her body gave in and she died. Kaye
was with her and said that she was laughing that morning. My mom
never had a fear of aging. She never even spoke about it. She always
looked fabulous—she wore bright red lipstick everywhere and always
liked to wear earrings when she went out. In her older years, she had
beautiful, long white hair. She was always nicely put-together (except
for the paint on her clothes).
She was always positive, and so was my father. I remember him as
a person who always looked for joy. Even the back of his business
cards read “Keep Smiling.” He brought that feeling into everything
he did. They never raised their voices, and I never heard them
arguing.
• • •
If you get to be alive long enough, problems repeat themselves.
When you hear about something terrible or somebody is horrible to
you, you can just say, take a number. You’ve had that happen to you
before, it upset you terribly, then the next time less terribly, and now
you can brush it off.
We have had deaths in our family, because we have a huge family,
and that will happen. The first time it happens, it is devastating. You
don’t think you can recover, but then you do. You can even talk about
people who have died in your family and not fall apart. That’s the
good part about aging.
When I would visit my older sister, who had colon cancer, I would
take my dog. Then my dog got old and became ill. I was very upset.
She said, “You should live longer than your dog,” so I should realize
that. I think about this reality check, even now after my sister has

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passed away. She kept her sense of humor until the end. At some
stage I took her to the supermarket. She had to hold onto the cart
because she was so weak. We ran into somebody she knew, who told
her she looked great, she had lost weight, and asked her what diet
she was on. She said, “Cancer!” and then laughed.
• • •
For my seventieth birthday, I had two parties. One in New York was
organized by CoverGirl and Harper’s Bazaar. It was full of people in
the fashion industry, models and friends from the time I lived there.
In LA, Elon, Kimbal, and Tosca organized a huge party. It was a
beautiful day. There was a slide show with my photos through the
ages, balloons outside the house, special cocktails, and an ice-cream
bar, professional dancers, and a DJ with a saxophone player. I was
surrounded by so many of my friends and family. A school friend I
had met when I was eleven years old in my hometown was there.
Elon, straight from the Tesla gigafactory in a T-shirt. Julia, my best
friend, with her husband. The dietitians I had worked with over the
years had created a binder of stories from colleagues, a collection of
appreciation and gratitude that moved me to tears.
• • •
If you learn anything from me, let it be this: don’t be afraid of aging,
and mix with friends who are not afraid of aging. Have fun with your
friends, of all ages, who like you because you are fascinating,
interesting, intelligent, confident, and maybe stylish (in your mind).
Listen to others, be good to others, no matter their ages. If someone
tells you you’re too old, especially if you are dating that person, say
goodbye.
Aging is great. We are wiser as we get older. We are more
confident—that was a nice surprise I have experienced. And we also
know we have to get rid of jerks in our life quicker. I guess you could
say I look forward to the future with enthusiasm.

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At this stage of my life, I’m having the best time ever. First of all, I
wrote this book so other women can have a better life. That makes
me feel good, and hopefully you, too.
I’ve just started in my seventies, and I can’t wait for what’s next.

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