The Evolution of Birthdays: From Milestones to Millstones

January 2024

By Richard Fleming

Photo courtesy of Stephanie McCabe

For most people, birthdays are important markers of their progress through life. They offer an opportunity for family and friends to celebrate. But some birthdays are considered more significant and are referred to as milestone birthdays. Though their importance is more symbolic than real, they nonetheless are often occasions for larger gatherings and more elaborate parties.

An interesting facet of aging is that our feelings about milestone birthdays change over time. When we are young, they are joyful occasions. As we mature into adulthood, they remain notable, but their importance tends to lessen. And as we grow into old age, those milestone birthdays often evolve into what may be more appropriately called millstone birthdays.

Let me explain.

For children, milestone birthdays are very important. Of course the first birthday is always a cause for partying, even though the celebrant is clueless about why people are wearing funny hats and singing a silly song. First birthdays are milestones more for the parents and grandparents than for the child. The fifth birthday marks the time the child will be starting school. Turning 10 is significant because the person has attained double digits. Three years on, they officially become a teenager. A few years later, they become eligible to drive. Then they become old enough to vote. And before long they can buy alcohol. These are indeed milestone birthdays, marking greater maturation, more opportunities, and expanded responsibilities.

Attaining age 21 is an important marker of becoming officially an adult. A young adult, certainly, but a true grownup. 21-year-olds are viewed by society as more mature than 19- or 20-year olds. Thereafter, milestone birthdays are generally considered to be those when a person moves into a new decade of life. People turning 30 or 40 often have large birthday celebrations. Arriving at an older decade represents a notable achievement. People who like to party often include the five year birthdays – 35, 45, etc. – as milestones and opportune times for large celebrations.

Then comes age 50. Fifty is a big one. It symbolizes the person wrapping up the first stage of adulthood. It signifies a person stands on the threshold of middle age. And 50 is often the birthday where friends and family start cracking jokes about creaking joints. About the difficulty staying up late to party. And about the myriad realms in which vitality is declining.

Sixty is another significant occasion. Even more jokes about aging are offered, but they seem less humorous when we turn 60. The birthday celebrant may force a smile when they read birthday card comments about sagging skin and bowel problems, but what they are really thinking is these statements are too accurate to be funny.

It is when we turn 65 or 70 that the implications of milestone birthdays start to sink in. These celebrations, while joyful, can take on a somber undertone. This is the time of life when moving into another decade begins to feel more like a millstone than a milestone. During our birthday parties, we may chuckle as family and friends tease us about how hard it is for us to blow out the candles on our cake, but is this really so funny? And when we reach 75 or 80, the millstone character of birthdays is hard to deny. We can’t avoid reflecting on the reality we are getting ever closer to sundown.

My next major birthday, my 75^th, will come in a couple of years. I’m sure when that day comes, assuming I make it to then, I will think back fondly on how much more energy I had when I was only 68 years old. And I will recall how much more youthful I felt at age 59. Those were the days, my friend, but I did know they would end.

Mind you, I’m not trying to come across as a curmudgeonly old fella, but I suspect that is exactly how I sound. Truthfully, I hope my luck holds so I can be around for more millstone birthdays. But the uncertainty of not knowing how many I still have gives me pause. I know, on an intellectual level, I should appreciate each and every one.

In the years ahead, whenever I celebrate another millstone birthday, I will smile. I won’t begrudge the young folks – anyone under 60 – who will josh me about the accumulating frailties of old age. I will chuckle faintly when I open birthday cards pointing out I have less hair, worse hearing, and a sketchy memory. I will tell myself that at least I’m lucky enough to still be alive, still spend time with my family, and still be fortunate enough to grow even older. I will think of the increasing number of friends who no longer have millstone birthdays, or any birthdays for that matter.

As I move further down the path into the deep woods, perhaps I will eventually get to the point where I no longer consider milestone birthdays to be millstones. If so, I will have finally made peace with my personal reality of growing old. But I’m not quite there yet.

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