It’s been done. By the famous and the unknown. Barack Obama, George Clooney, Melissa Etheridge, Nadia Comaneci, Wayne Gretzky, me, all of my classmates, and several million others the world over. We all turned 50 years old this year. It’s an arbitrary line in the sand that we step over and yet many of us pause to contemplate it.

It can be a frightening time. Life may suddenly seem half over (or more), with so much still left undone. Now we ourselves are what we used to think of as …well, old. Imagine being the same age as the president of the United States; that’s old. Our mortality may be staring us in the face and it may not be a pretty site.

Some have advised against growing older, as though it is a choice. In a soothing voice similar to elevator music, they say 50 is actually the new 40. Is that because with medical advances and better living, we actually feel younger than previous generations … or with advertisement massaged egos and cosmetic makeovers, we look simply marvellous? But why delude ourselves? Growing old seems better than the alternative. Princess Diana may forever remain the beautiful 36 year-old, but I’m sure she would much rather be 50, battling wrinkles, coping with a backache, and sharing the lives of her sons.

Of course we’d all like to turn the clock back, unmake mistakes, and make use of lost opportunities. But would we really rather be, as the t-shirt says, “18, with 32 years of experience”? We have accomplished many things in our 50 years: stabilized relationships, established careers, raised children and debt ceilings, stopped trying to impress others, and learnt to accept ourselves with all our flaws. We have weathered losses we never imagined in our 20’s, and either lived to tell the tale and show the battle scars proudly or swallowed the hard-earned wisdom quietly and nursed the wounds within. And it seems that true happiness lies in moving ahead. A recent study (Arthur Stone, 2010, PNAS) on well-being reported that after the age of 50 we become steadily more positive and less worried. Indeed, we may be entering a happier phase of our lives.

Apart from the personal significance of turning 50, there is also a social significance. In an American context, we are amongst the last of the baby boomers to turn 50, pushing a wave of elders before us. Furthermore, the world population in general is aging. In 2000, there were some 1 billion people over 50; by 2025, there will be over 2 billion (US Census Bureau). Already there are a growing number of books out catering to this phenomenon, such as Ronnie Sellers collection of essays titled Things to do when you turn 50 and Olivia Wu’s Turning 50: 50 personal celebrations. The 50-plus crowd will gradually demand more products and services – from comfy shoes to efficient healthcare to entertainment – and therefore become the focus of marketing and advertising. Louboutins will be out, Birkenstocks will be in. Teeth braces and retainers will be out, hip replacements will be in. Shows like Two and a Half Men will be out, those like Golden Girls will be in, and characters like William Shatner’s Alzheimer struck Denny Crane in Boston Legal will be our heros. The thing to flash will not be the latest mobile phone but rather the nicest looking pill-box. We will set new standards of cool and, as Michelle Obama said, cute.

We may increase the dependency ratio numerically but not practically. Those of us of continuing sound mind and health will at some point wonder what to do with our time. We may not have a lot on top of our heads, but we still have plenty inside. We may take on second or third careers, be that post-lawyer and post-president, or just post-worker and post-parent and post-partner. In fact, we may start that cable TV channel catering to the 50-plus or set up a service for physiotherapy messages given at home or develop special shoes for the arthritic and diabetic.

Maurice Chevalier in the movie Gigi joyfully sang “I’m so glad I’m not young anymore”. I may not join him in the chorus but I think I understand what he was getting at. Turning 50 may be the realization that you can’t turn the clock back but also the acceptance that that’s okay.