I’ve decided I want to live to see my first grandchild graduate from high school. My daughter’s 3. Let’s say she has/adopts/grows in a home lab/creates through via internet chat room (whatever they’re into 27 years from now) a kid when she’s 30. 18 years hence, that kid will graduate from high school. So, 45 years from now. Just to be on the safe side, let’s pad it out with 5 more years. Maybe the kid will have to do a lot of repeating in elementary school.
50 years. That’s how long I have to make if I want to see my first grandkid graduate from high school. I have to live to be 85.
Current life expectancy in the US for a male is 75.6.
Of course, crystal-ball-gazing is bullshit, or, to use the formal philosophical denotation, Where The Hell Is My Flying Car? A trillion and one things could happen between now and that putative stroll across the stage.
Still, though. Tick-tock, right? You ain’t getting any younger and this planet ain’t getting any bigger. To me, putting a solid number is to keep that hourglass in mind, a sort of memento mori. Maybe keeps me from watching that 15th YouTube Star Wars knockoff video, keeps that Snickers bar out of my mouth and that Coke can away from my lips, gets me out of my study and into the sun with my kids at the park. That’s the hope, anyhow.
So, how long do you want to live? Or, to put it another way, when do you want to die? Put a number on it.