'The big surprise is that nothing has changed," June Callwood says.
The Toronto-based writer and activist is perfectly pleased to be 82, but jokes that, as an old woman, she never expected to be just as idealistic as ever.
"I thought I'd be a different person in my 80s. That there were would be one more big transition. Like, oh I don't know, maybe I'd be more tolerant of the Tory government."
She laughs, then goes steely. "It hasn't happened. All those women going out against daycare. Can you believe that?"
And Ms. Callwood is off -- talking about the issues that consume her. Not wrinkles and illness and death (her body is still riddled with untreated tumours), but the life stuff that keeps her going -- public policy, social justice and what she calls "an essential faith in human kindness."
Ms. Callwood is part of vast and vigorous generation of people who are surprising the world by turning 80 while still, for all intents and purposes, in the prime of their lives.
First among them, of course, is the Queen, who turned 80 yesterday. She and her family have been participating in a week-long series of events, including a "birthday twins" party on Wednesday, during which she lunched with people from all over the Commonwealth who were also born on April 21, 1926.
Included in the celebration was Alma Dingwall from Bedford, N.S., who told CBC news, "All of the day was lovely. I can't choose any part as the best part."
It's this kind of upbeat positivism that seems to be buoying an entire greying population through the final stage of old age.
Along with Europe's longest-reigning monarch, Playboy impresario Hugh Hefner celebrated his 80th birthday this month (he still lives in his mansion with three young, blond girlfriends), as did Jerry Lewis and Ikea founder Ingvar Kamprad. Tony Bennett and Fidel Castro will join them soon.
And with eightysomethings like Jimmy Carter still out there building houses, Nelson Mandela still speaking out against injustice, Oscar Peterson still tickling the ivories and Hazel McCallion still mayor of Mississauga, the future is looking like a bright one for healthy, privileged octogenarians of the developed world.
According to Statistics Canada's most recent numbers, the vast majority of Canadian seniors live in private households, with only 7 per cent in collective dwellings (primarily nursing homes and hospitals). Of senior citizens over the age of 85, the number rose to only 32 per cent.
This goes to show that the greatest fear among most people about getting older -- that they will be abandoned and shut away in an institution staffed by rough nurses who call them "dearie" -- is hardly realistic.
This is good news for everyone, as the "greying" of the Canadian population is well under way.
In 2002, 13 per cent of the population was 65 or older. By 2026, this figure is projected to reach 21 per cent, for a total of roughly 7.8 million senior citizens.
That means a whole lot of octogenarians. And an increasingly healthy lot, if you believe the numbers.
In 2001, more than 70 per cent of Canadians aged 65 or older described their health as good, very good or excellent, and, as a result, almost 30 per cent lived alone.
Indeed, according to a recent article in Stanford University's Policy Review, "virtually every developed society today is more elderly than practically any human society ever surveyed before the year 1950 -- and every single currently developed society is slated to experience considerable further population aging in the decades immediately ahead."
The most rapid expansion, the article goes on to predict, will occur among those aged 80 or more.
None of this is news to Reg Stackhouse, a Toronto-based writer and retired research professor, who turns 81 this year.
In his 2005 book The Coming Age Revolution, Mr. Stackhouse outlines what he believes will be the first great cultural revolution of the 21st century.
"People ask, 'Why doesn't the Queen quit?' " he says. "And the answer is, she's holding the job because she can do it. And she's not the only one. We're living in aging society, and this will accelerate for two reasons: Older people are living longer and the birth rate is staying down. There will be more older people and fewer younger people."
With the social effects of Viagra and the rise of preventive medicine, Mr. Stackhouse insists that being 80 isn't what it used to be. Of our youth-obsessed culture, he says, "It will change because the demographics will dictate it."
"There are tons of people who are 85 and in great physical condition," he adds, pointing out the fact that he exercises every day, continues to work and enjoys a fulfilling life with his wife of 55 years.
"The downside of course is that nature is going to win. There's no avoiding that. But it's not an anxiety once you make peace with it. You learn to enjoy each and every day because you have to."
Toward the end of your life, he says, death "is actually a bonus."
That's one of the funny things about being 80. Thoughts of death become, if not a normal, at least a regular part of daily life. Mortality is no longer something to be feared, but reckoned with.
"I'll be 88 in December and every day I wonder if I'll make it or not -- but not in a morbid way," says Trent Frayne, a former sportswriter for this newspaper and the husband of June Callwood. "It's just that 87 seems such a nothing number, whereas 88 is nice and round. Eighty-eight keys in a piano. I like the shape of it."
Unlike some of the younger eightysomethings, Mr. Frayne does not gloss over the physical and mental deterioration that comes with advanced age.
"It's crappy," he says. "Everything is slower. You get sleepy sooner. Afternoon naps are mandatory or you feel horrible by dinner time. The thinking processes don't work as well as they once did. Trying to remember proper names, for instance, is nearly impossible. You just have to adapt that everything is slowing down and different."
Mr. Frayne says that up until the age of 85, he was playing tennis and remembering people's names. It's just in the past few years that things have changed. He now worries about losing his driver's licence and, for the first time in his life, reads the obituary page every day. Although, he notes, "I don't often see people I know and I'm surprised at that."
Asked why some people get cranky with age, his wife is empathetic. "It's because they're in pain," Ms. Callwood says. "And pain takes away personality.
"There's also a bit of grieving goes on. My husband can't play tennis any more. It's not a temporary thing. He'll never play tennis again. He's sad about that."
Eightysomethings often bring up the same two subjects: attitude and health. The first can be controlled, the second only partly.
Just ask Hazel McCallion, the long-reigning mayor of Mississauga, who is so resolutely independent at 85 that she lives alone, cuts her own grass, does her own housework and even waived the standard job perk of car and driver.
"I just can't believe I'm 85," she says. "Younger people are always asking me what vitamins I take. One of my councillors recently told me, 'Whatever you've got, you should bottle it and sell it.' "
Ms. McCallion is at a loss to explain her incredible vigour (for any age really), other than to say she grew up on a farm eating only organic food "and lots of fish."
But benefits of the Mediterranean diet aside, let's have the truth: Is it ever frustrating for a razor-sharp woman like Ms. McCallion to have a stranger instantly assume she's dottering?
"It's only happened once," she says, launching into an anecdote about rushing through London's Heathrow Airport to make a connecting flight to Sweden. "We got to airport security and the man I was flying with said to the guard, 'We've got a little old lady here!' And they rushed us right through. I said, 'If you want me to get into a wheelchair, I will.' " They made the flight.
Ms. McCallion's brand of self-deprecating humour pops up often in conversations with vital eightysomethings. Take Helen Stunt of St. Catharines, Ont., who, at the age of 88, says she feels "absolutely great."
Every morning, Ms. Stunt gets up and does the crossword, and every evening she listens to CBC radio, particularly the program Ideas. She is an avid sewer, knitter and beader and lives alone in a four-bedroom house.
The only change, she says, is her relationship with mirrors. "I avoid them now," she jokes. "You know in the winter when you're all covered up and you unveil in the spring? Well you start to notice your arms don't winter very well. There's all these new bits."
All the same, Ms. Stunt still takes care of her appearance, wearing skirts instead of slacks, and going out to socialize whenever she can. "If you get the call to go out, then go," she says. "Otherwise, you get left behind."
It's a sentiment heartily echoed by Joan Harrison of Annapolis Royal, N.S. For the past six years, Ms. Harrison, 82, has been living with her companion, a man of 86 who, she says, "has a better memory than I do."
The key to her appeal? Simple confidence.
"I'm a very agile lady, which I suppose the Queen is too," she says. "I walk with a stick and I don't apologize for it."
Leah McLaren is a Globe and Mail columnist.