Too Old for This Kind of Nonsense – My Murtaugh List

Too Old for This Kind of Nonsense – My Murtaugh List

After weeks of desert landscapes, highways, and endless horizons, something remains that goes beyond photographs.

Travel doesn’t change the places on the map.
Sometimes, it changes the way we look at our own lives.

Somewhere between California and the flight home, a small list began to take shape in my mind.

A list of things I no longer feel the need to prove.

My personal Murtaugh List – inspired by Roger Murtaugh, the film character from the Lethal Weapon series, who keeps saying:
“I’m too old for this shit.”

A line, half annoyed, half wise – and at some point, surprisingly familiar.

Some things you’re simply allowed to let go.
And others are meant to be enjoyed even more.

Prologue – Things you no longer need to prove

There are things I genuinely feel too old for.
And honestly, I already felt that way in my twenties.

Adrenaline rushes were never really my thing.
Jumping out of helicopters, paragliding, or throwing myself off bridges with a bungee cord – not for me.
My nervous system prefers solid ground.

We’re told that nowadays we live “younger” than we actually are.
You’re only as old as you feel.
Some mornings, however, I feel… quite realistic.

What has truly changed over the years is not so much my age, but my standards.
Not everything I could do is something I still need to prove.

Some things you can simply leave behind.

Self-optimization has now discovered aging as well.
And the line between joy of life and performance pressure can be surprisingly thin.

Parents wear the same sneakers as their children.
Retirees run marathons.
Mothers speak in teenage slang.
And somewhere in between, a grandfather strolls through life as a “cool lover.”

Embarrassing?
Annoying?
Or simply the spirit of the times?

The real question isn’t: What is appropriate?
But: Who actually decides that?

And even better: Why should we follow along?

I don’t have any final answers.
But over the years, something like a small internal system has developed.

Nothing world-changing.
But surprisingly helpful.

It’s not resignation – quite the opposite:
a quiet, self-determined decision not to put yourself through everything anymore.

No rules. No obligations.
Just a personal shortcut to a bit more ease.

And at some point you realize:
this list forms all by itself.

My personal Murtaugh list

• Camping.
  Ten days on Lizard Island, sleeping on a mat in a tent, left a lasting impression.
  A camper van? Not really. We even tried a “glam-mobile” once – out of curiosity.
  But staying in one place for too long feels less like traveling and more like relocating with a view.
• Renovating.
  I’ve made peace with “leaving things as they are.”
  A few years ago, Tanja in Maine wanted four strips of colorful wallpaper on her wall.
  The painter’s quote: 600 dollars.
  “Mom, you know how to wallpaper, right?”
  I did. And I did it.
  But that wasn’t renovation.
  That was motherly love with wallpaper paste.

• Overthinking what others think about me.
  My nerves don’t cooperate anymore.
• Uncomfortable shoes.
  The era of high heels is – unfortunately – over. Too risky.

• Souvenirs from everywhere.
  These days, I collect fewer things – and more memories.

• Spending time with people who have nothing to say.
  Silence can be beautiful. Just not when it’s empty.
• Feeling the need to see the good in everyone.
  Some people are simply… not that great.
• Trying to understand every new youth expression.
  “Crazy,” “gooning,” “you get it?”
  Sometimes I don’t. And that’s okay.
• Cookie pop-ups.
  Like mosquitoes: small, annoying, and everywhere.
• Bending myself to fit others.
  I am who I am. You’ll have to live with it.
  After all, I do too.
• Regretting missed opportunities.
  Stand up. Adjust the crown. Move on.
• False modesty.
  After a long working life, you’re allowed to enjoy what you’ve earned – without blushing.
• Fear of getting older.
  C’est la vie – it ends the same way for all of us.
  So let’s make the most of it. With style.
• Bus shopping tours.
  My mother once came back – already in her seventies – from a “heated blanket sales trip.”
  With a heated blanket.
  Her verdict:
  “Terrible. A bus full of old people.”
• Passwords.
  There was a time when a house key was enough.
  Now you need the memory of an elephant.
• Keeping my phone next to the bed at night.
  I used to think I might miss something important.
  Now I know: the most important things are asleep.

Never too old for …

• Loud rock music and old classics.
• Learning. For life.
• Reading, singing, dancing, writing, blogging.
• Having your own opinion – even if it’s not mainstream.
• Humor. Laughter carries you further than you think.
• Travel. Hopefully for a long time. If needed, even with a walker.

• Enjoying life. Good food, beautiful landscapes, quiet moments.
• Holding hands with Reinhold. I’m never too old for that.

• Staying curious – about new things and those I didn’t understand yesterday.
• Kindness. It never goes out of style.
• Wearing leggings in everyday life. I love them. End of discussion.

Epilogue – One sentence that stays

In the end, this isn’t an account settled with age.

It’s more a quiet declaration of affection
for everything that becomes lighter
once you stop needing to prove yourself.

Or perhaps even more precisely:
It’s less a list of things I’m too old for –
and more a list of things I’ve finally grown old enough for.

Enjoy yourself. It’s later than you think.

More reflections from the series “The In-Between Life” can be found here.