7 Things I Stopped Doing After 60 — And I’m Better Off for It

There are plenty of things nobody bothers to put in the brochure about getting older.

Your knees start making noises they didn’t used to make. You walk into a room and forget what you went in there for. And at some point, you discover that when you drop something on the floor, you don’t automatically bend down to pick it up anymore.

You stand there for a second and think, Is there anything else down there I need while I’m making this trip?

But getting older isn’t all bad.

I’m 66 years old now, and one thing I actually like about this age is that I’m finally figuring out what deserves my time and what doesn’t.

Notice I said figuring out.

I still make dumb decisions. I still procrastinate. And I still occasionally look back at something I’ve done and wonder what in the world I was thinking.

But there are some things I don’t do nearly as much anymore.

Not because I can’t.

Because somewhere along the way, I realized I was better off without them.

Here are seven things I’ve learned to leave behind—and a few lessons it took me a mighty long time to figure out.

1. I Don’t Automatically Say Yes Anymore

I’ve always enjoyed helping people, and I hope that never changes.

But for much of my life, I confused being helpful with being available.

Somebody would ask me to do something, and before I’d really thought about it, I’d hear myself saying, “Yeah, sure. I can do that.”

Then I’d get in my truck, drive away, and about ten minutes later another voice would show up.

Hutch, why in the world did you agree to that?

One of the better lessons I learned about this came through my auction business.

A fellow asked me to handle an estate auction for him. I was already busy and knew I didn’t have time for another sale.

An estate auction isn’t just showing up and talking fast for a few hours.

There’s photographing merchandise, organizing everything, advertising, setting up, and a whole lot of work before anybody ever raises a hand to bid.

I knew all that.

And I said yes anyway.

I photographed the merchandise and started advertising the auction. I also made it clear that once an item was photographed and advertised, it needed to remain in the sale.

After all, people were planning to attend based on what I’d advertised.

About a week before the auction, I returned to the property to begin preparing.

Something was missing.

Then I noticed another missing item.

Before long, I had my phone out comparing the original photographs with what was still there.

A lot of merchandise had disappeared.

Some items had been taken by family members. Others had been sold privately because somebody offered the owner more money than he thought they’d bring at auction.

I ended up canceling the sale.

And what bothered me most?

I’d known from the beginning that I didn’t have time to take it on.

I said yes because I wanted to help.

These days, I’ve become much more comfortable saying:

“Let me think about it.”

That’s a perfectly good answer.

It gives me time to consider whether I really want to do something, whether I have time for it, and what I’ll have to give up to make it happen.

Here’s something worth remembering:

Every yes costs something.

Sometimes it’s money. Sometimes it’s aggravation.

But quite often, it’s time.

I can make more money. I can’t make another Saturday.

2. I Don’t Need to Win Every Argument

I’ve got a longtime friend named Kenny who likes to argue.

I don’t mean he’s mean about it. That’s just Kenny.

It comes with the friendship.

You could ask him, “Kenny, you do know the world is flat, right?”

And he’d argue that it’s round.

I know. Ridiculous.

Kenny and I can go back and forth over something, and five minutes later he’ll change the subject like we weren’t just preparing opening statements for a jury.

I’ve known him long enough that I find it entertaining.

But Kenny has also helped me realize something.

I don’t have to argue with everybody.

When I was younger, if I believed I was right, I could stay in an argument a whole lot longer than necessary.

And if the other person got the last word?

Oh no. We couldn’t have that.

But what exactly did I win?

I’ve come to believe the last word isn’t much of a trophy.

Social media has turned arguing into something resembling an Olympic sport.

Two people who have never met can spend half an evening arguing under a Facebook post written by somebody neither one of them knows.

Forty-five minutes later, nobody’s changed their mind, nobody’s learned anything useful, and everybody’s blood pressure is probably up.

And I’m not judging from the sidelines.

I’ve been that guy too.

These days, I try to figure out whether we’re actually having a conversation.

If you’ll listen to what I have to say, I’ll listen to you.

You might know something I don’t.

I might be wrong.

Heck, we might both be wrong.

But if neither one of us is listening, what’s the point?

Of course, there are things worth standing your ground over. Family, safety, finances, and important principles still matter.

Getting older hasn’t made me afraid of confrontation.

It’s just made me pickier about which confrontations deserve my time.

As for Kenny?

I’ll probably keep arguing with him.

Some traditions are worth preserving.

3. I’m More Careful About Lending Money

Here’s one that can damage a perfectly good friendship.

Money.

Years ago, I knew a casino floor manager who had a good relationship with a regular customer.

The customer was a high roller, came in frequently, and was known as a good tipper.

One day, he’d reached his daily ATM withdrawal limit and needed some money.

The manager loaned it to him.

At the time, it probably seemed pretty safe.

The fellow was a regular customer. He had money. Surely he’d pay it back.

At first, I believe the customer simply forgot about the loan.

Eventually, the manager mentioned it.

The customer apologized and promised to settle up on his next visit.

But the next visit came and went.

Then another.

Before long, the manager felt like the customer was deliberately avoiding him.

A friendly relationship became uncomfortable.

Eventually, the customer repaid every dollar.

But by then, the damage was done.

The manager felt he’d been taken advantage of.

The customer apparently felt the manager didn’t trust him.

He got his money back, but the relationship was never quite the same.

That story stuck with me.

These days, before loaning money, I ask myself two questions:

Can I afford to lose the money?

And can the relationship afford the loan?

My rule is simple.

If I can’t afford for a loan to turn into a gift, I probably shouldn’t make the loan.

That doesn’t mean I don’t expect repayment.

Believe me, I still want my money back.

But if I do decide to make a loan, I want everyone to understand the amount, repayment expectations, and what happens if things don’t go according to plan.

Putting those details in writing can help avoid misunderstandings.

Sometimes money comes back.

The relationship doesn’t always come back with it.

4. I Don’t Automatically Ignore My Gut Feelings

After spending more than 23 years working in surveillance, I’ve learned that sometimes little things catch your attention before you can explain why.

Something doesn’t match.

A person’s story keeps changing.

Somebody seems determined to get around a normal rule.

Now, I’m not suggesting every strange feeling is some supernatural warning.

Sometimes a strange feeling is just that.

But I’ve also learned not to automatically dismiss my concerns.

I remember a fellow who brought some merchandise to my auction house.

Some of the items were really nice. Others were fairly ordinary.

There was something about the merchandise that bothered me, although I couldn’t tell you exactly what.

Then we got to the paperwork.

When someone wants me to sell merchandise through my auction, I require identification and documentation establishing their right to sell it.

This fellow couldn’t—or wouldn’t—produce identification.

He told me he knew his driver’s license number.

Well, that’s nice.

But knowing your license number isn’t quite the same thing as showing me your license.

When I wouldn’t accept that, he asked whether another seller could put the merchandise under their name.

Now we had a problem.

I told him to load everything back up and find somewhere else to sell it.

I didn’t accuse him of stealing anything.

I had no evidence of that.

Sometime later, I heard he’d reportedly been arrested in connection with break-ins. I never independently verified the details, so I can’t say for certain what happened.

What I do know is that I’m glad I followed my business procedures.

And that’s the real lesson.

A gut feeling isn’t proof that somebody is doing something wrong. But it’s a good reason to slow down, pay attention, and check the facts.

If an email looks suspicious, I don’t click the link.

If somebody is pressuring me to make a decision immediately, I give myself more time.

If something feels wrong in a public place, I take a moment to consider my options.

Maybe it turns out to be nothing.

That’s fine with me.

I’d rather take an extra minute to be cautious than wish I’d paid attention sooner.

5. I Don’t Confuse an Affordable Payment With a Good Deal

I like nice things.

Trucks, cameras, electronics, and gadgets probably appeal to me more than they ought to.

So I’m certainly not going to sit here and tell everybody to stop buying things they enjoy.

That would create a written record that might be used against me the next time I buy another toy.

But I learned something years ago about monthly payments.

I wanted the latest and greatest phone.

At the time, I was also trying to build my credit, so financing it seemed like a reasonable idea.

The monthly payment wasn’t bad.

I could afford it.

And every month, I made the payment without giving it much thought.

Then the payments finally ended.

I got to looking at how much I’d actually paid for that phone.

Not the monthly payment.

The total amount.

Once I saw the finance charges, I nearly needed to buy myself a new pair of pants.

Not on credit, though.

Nobody had tricked me.

I signed the paperwork. I made the payments. And I knew what I’d agreed to.

But I’d focused so much on what I could afford each month that I hadn’t paid enough attention to the total cost.

Now I ask different questions.

What’s the actual price?

What’s the annual percentage rate, or APR?

How long am I financing it?

Are there additional fees?

And what will I have paid by the time I make the last payment?

A low monthly payment can look appealing, but stretching a loan over more months can increase the total interest paid.

And here’s another thing.

These days, everything seems to be “only” so much per month.

Only $19.

Only $29.

Only $49.

Get enough of those together, and “only” starts eating pretty well at your house.

I’m still going to enjoy buying things.

I just want to know what I’m really paying.

Being able to afford a payment doesn’t automatically mean I’m getting a good deal.

6. I’m Trying to Stop Saving Everything for Someday

This one has probably changed more for me in recent years than almost anything else.

All our lives, we’re taught to save.

Save money.

Plan for retirement.

Take care of what you own.

Prepare for the future.

And there’s plenty of wisdom in that advice.

But I think some of us get so good at preparing for tomorrow that we forget about today.

We save the good clothes for a special occasion.

We talk about taking a vacation when things settle down.

There’s a restaurant we’ve always wanted to try.

An old friend we’ve been meaning to call.

Something we’ve wanted to learn.

Someday.

The trouble is, someday has a habit of staying just far enough ahead that we never quite catch it.

I’ve checked the calendar.

Someday isn’t on there.

Now, I’m not suggesting anybody cash out their retirement account and head to Vegas.

If you do that, please don’t tell your spouse you got the idea from Hutch.

I’m talking about finding some balance.

Starting my YouTube channel has been one of the best examples of that in my own life.

At 66, I’m still learning how to make videos.

Cameras, microphones, lighting, thumbnails, editing—there’s been a whole lot to figure out.

And then I opened DaVinci Resolve.

If you’ve never used it, there are buttons everywhere.

For a while, I was pretty sure touching the wrong one might launch something at NASA.

But I kept learning.

And I’m still learning.

Could I sit around wishing I’d started ten years earlier?

Sure.

But what good would that do?

I can’t change when I started.

I can only decide what I’m going to do now.

Something being late doesn’t automatically mean it’s too late.

Maybe you’ve always wanted to travel, learn an instrument, start a small business, write a book, or take up a hobby.

You don’t have to be an expert.

You don’t even have to be particularly good at it when you start.

There’s nothing wrong with being a beginner at 66.

As a matter of fact, I’m starting to enjoy it.

7. I Don’t Pretend I Have Unlimited Time

This last lesson ties everything else together.

And I don’t mean it in a depressing way.

I’m not sitting around staring at the clock and worrying about how much time I have left.

It’s almost the opposite.

I’m starting to understand how valuable that time really is.

When you’re 25, ten years seems like forever.

Forty sounds old.

Sixty-six sounds like somebody’s grandpa.

Then one morning you look in the mirror and realize you apparently are somebody’s grandpa.

And the strangest part?

It doesn’t feel like it took 66 years to get here.

Your kids grow up.

Then the grandkids start growing up.

Jobs change. Friends come and go. People you thought would always be around aren’t there anymore.

The years don’t ask permission.

They just keep moving.

When I was younger, I spent more time thinking about what something cost in dollars.

These days, I find myself thinking about what it costs in time.

I don’t want to spend six months angry about something that won’t matter five years from now.

I don’t want to keep doing things solely because somebody else thinks that’s what I should be doing.

And I sure don’t want to spend the rest of my life waiting for everything to be perfect before trying something new.

I’ve been waiting on perfect for 66 years.

That son of a gun is running late.

Now, don’t misunderstand me.

I still procrastinate.

I still waste time.

I still get aggravated over things that aren’t worth the trouble.

I’m 66, not a monk on a mountaintop.

But I am getting better at asking myself one important question:

Is this worth my time?

Not just, “Can I do it?”

Is it worth giving part of my day to?

Is this argument worth an hour?

Is this grudge worth another year?

Is worrying about what someone else thinks worth giving up something I’d really like to try?

I can make more money.

I can’t make another Tuesday.

And I’m finally beginning to understand just how important that is.

Getting Older Has Taught Me What Really Matters

When I started thinking about these seven things, they seemed like separate lessons.

But the more I thought about them, the more I realized they’re all connected.

I’m becoming more careful about what I spend.

And I don’t just mean money.

I’m talking about my time, attention, energy, and peace of mind.

I still want to help people. I just don’t automatically say yes.

I’ll still disagree with somebody. I just don’t need the last word.

I’ll still help someone financially when I can. I just understand that money can complicate a relationship.

I’ll listen to my instincts without confusing suspicion with proof.

I’ll still buy things I enjoy. I just want to know what they actually cost.

And I’ll prepare for tomorrow without forgetting to enjoy today.

Getting older changes things.

There’s no sense pretending otherwise.

But I think it can give us something valuable too.

Perspective.

You start figuring out what’s worth worrying about, what’s worth fighting for, and what isn’t worth another minute of your time.

I’m still learning.

I probably always will be.

But I’m done living like I’ve got unlimited time.

Not because I’m afraid of running out.

Because I finally understand what it’s worth.

Watch the Video: 7 Things I Don’t Do Anymore at 66

I also made a YouTube video about these seven lessons, where I talk through the experiences and changes that led me to start looking at life a little differently.

You can watch it here:

7 Things I Don’t Do Anymore at 66 — Just Ole Hutch

If you’re over 50 and interested in staying independent, making smarter decisions, and getting more enjoyment out of life, I hope you’ll consider subscribing to my Just Ole Hutch YouTube channel.

And before you go, I’ve got a question for you.

What’s something you’ve stopped doing as you’ve gotten older and realized you were better off without?

Tell me about it in the comments.

There’s a pretty good chance the rest of us could learn something from your experience too.

Thanks for stopping by.

Stay safe, my friends.

Just Ole Hutch