Redefining Ages 40 and Up: Sidney's Story

Jokes aside, is 40 really the new 30? And 50 the new 40?

To get the conversation started, we asked Castro Valley Patch horse columnist , 67, to recount some of the twists, turns and adventures that turned her into the powerhouse she is today.

At 40, she took up downhill skiing. Scroll immediately to the bottom, if you want to fast-forward to Sidney's advice for others coming around the chronological bend.

Below is her account, but we'd really like to hear from you, too.

1. What has surprised you about being over 40 (or 50, 60, 70, etc.)?
2. What advice would you giving others just beginning to contemplate life after mid-life?

Please add your stories to the comments section.

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By Sidney Simpson

I suppose every one of us has a period in life where we stop and look at ourselves and wonder what it is all about… have I lived up to my potential… am I happy… would I do things differently if I could, etc.

For me that point was probably when I was 39—maybe 40. I guess I realized that my window of opportunity for making a “new me” was rapidly closing. I had probably lived half of my life. Did I want a new career? Was I all that I could be?

As a child, I used to play that I was many things—often I was a horse. I wanted to be a cowgirl. I wanted to be a “star”—the kind I read about in the movie magazines. And I wanted to be a teacher. I remember lining my dollies up on my bed and teaching them things. I remember how disillusioned I was when I realized that I could buy my own little gold stars at the dime store.

I grew up to eventually own my own horse (I’m not really a cowgirl—but definitely a horsewoman). I grew up to sing with a girl group that performed in the Bay Area for 20 years under the name Separate Checks—not a movie star, but we had outrageous fun. I also grew up to be a teacher and did that for 40 years. 

I was passionate about teaching. I loved taking information and simplifying it—making it easier for people to understand. My students were often on the rough edge—kids who had failed again and again.  Some had even flunked out of continuation high school or were at school as a condition of parole. I taught in a tough gang area—and I loved it. I knew that I made a difference in many lives—people who were trying desperately to pull their lives together. Knowing that I had helped many of them was tremendously rewarding to me.

Still…I do remember, when I was close to 40, questioning myself…had I lived up to my potential? Could I have been more?  An administrator? So many of my friends were executives, dressing in suits and commuting to San Francisco, working in big, important office buildings, making tons more money…and here I was in front of a chalk board year after year…was I lazy? Was I in a rut? 

I finally decided that yes, I could have done many other things…but that I didn’t really want to. I envisioned what it would be like to be an administrator or to work in a big office in San Francisco…could I do it?  Absolutely. Did I like the way I would be spending my day?  Absolutely not. I was born to be a teacher.

Many years later when I segued out of the teaching profession, I was a bit panicky. So much of my identity—my feelings of self-worth—were wrapped up in teaching. If I were no longer a teacher, who would I be? I discovered that in fact there were many “me’s” and that I could not only re-invent myself many times, but that I could and would continue to teach on many levels.

Children? Empty nest syndrome? After we got married, I desperately wanted a child. Seven years later our daughter was born. I could not have been happier. I was beginning to think I would never have a baby. I was 28 when she was born. By today’s standards, that’s nothing…but at the time, I was much older than my daughter’s friends’ moms. I cherished every moment of her childhood and was involved as a room mother, a swim team mom who ran the snack bar, a dance school mom—you name it, I did it.

One thing that I did do different from my own mom was that I continued to have my own life.  My mother was a mom 100 percent. She was a wonderful mom…perfect in so many ways, but there were no other aspects to her life. As devoted as I was to Karina, I continued to teach (part time) and I became involved in other areas as well. For about 10 years or so I was on San Leandro’s Human Resource Commission. When Karina decided that she wanted to be raised Jewish and study for bat mitzvah, I became very active at Temple Beth Sholom in San Leandro, serving on their education committee.

The year I turned 40, I learned how to downhill ski and then as I approached the end of my 40s I began singing with Separate Checks—what a rollercoaster ride that was.  We had such fun—rehearsing, buying outrageous costumes, putting on floorshows here and there—for the Masons, the Shriners—even for John Madden.  We did an Andrew Sisters type of show on the Jeremiah O’Brien and also sang with a 17-piece orchestra. We performed for Hot August Nights in Reno and did a cocktail party for Smokey Robinson in Reno as well. For over 20 years we performed almost every weekend—sometimes in public venues—but most often for private parties.

The year that I turned 58, I decided that it was time to learn how to ride a horse. I had quit skiing (having had two serious ski accidents where I blew out first one knee and then the other). I had always wanted to be with horses…ride horses. Heck! I had wanted to be a horse! It occurred to me that I wasn’t getting any younger and that if I wanted to learn to ride, I should just do it. And so I did.

I began taking riding lessons and my dear friend Vikki, who also sang in Separate Checks, took lessons too. Spending an afternoon with the smells of horses was such a joy to me. We spent hours grooming and just being with the lesson horses. Even mucking poop was a thrill. (Now I know that sounds sick…but it is really quite gratifying) Within a year I had changed stables and was leasing an Arabian mare. 

Shortly after that (maybe six months), with the encouragement of my husband, I bought my own Arabian—Cheyenne. 

My life has never been the same. Vikki moved to Oregon and soon bought her own horse too. Our deep friendship continued…but now it was more focused on horses and less on music (although we still do perform twice a year—once in Oregon and once in California).

I guess I look at life as a series of many many paths. I have traveled down many of them, and I still have many ahead of me. I was always involved in my daughter’s life but also very clear that it was ‘her’ life, not mine… that I needed to live my own life.

I have added new paths to my world. One of them is Patch and writing for other publications such as Modern Arabian Horse magazine and the Oakland Zoo’s Scoop Magazine. I love writing and am passionate about animals. It’s a treat to combine two passions. I have also been very active in the Arabian Horse Association and helped with an exhibit on "Family Arabians" at the Kentucky Horse Park’s new Arabian museum. I also became active in Horses’ Honor Horse Rescue and Sanctuary and do public outreach and marketing for them.

For the last several years I’ve been involved with the Oakland Zoo as a docent. I went through training and lead tours and “rove” (walk around the zoo answering questions). I’m also involved in docent training and mentoring new docents.

My advice: Be passionate. Gravitate to people and activities that are positive and distance yourself from negativity and negative people. Grab as many brass rings as you can. Try new adventures and new pathways. Get involved in things that you care about. (These will be different for each person). Don’t live through your child. Let him live his own life and you live yours—separate but connected.