March 11, 2026–Today I’m asking readers a question my 10-year-old granddaughter asked me that I cannot answer:
Which 10-year period in your life was your least favorite?
And which 10-year period would you exchange it for?
First of all, I have no idea where this child’s questions come from. She turns 11 this month, so maybe she is contemplating her next decade. But she caught me off guard. I stammered and stuttered, before finally coming up with an inadequate answer, which I’ll reveal at the end of this column.
After she went to bed, I sat down and tried to lay out my thoughts about decades past and hopefully to come.
0-10
Everything is new and wonderful. Each day brings another adventure. When bad things happen, you let them exist, and don’t worry how they’ll affect you. You are a dog; you eat, sleep, play, get up the next day and do it again.
11-20
The troubling teen years. But even while battling acne, anxiety, and angst, you literally metamorphize into the human being you will be for the rest of your life.
You battle self-doubt and struggle to compete in all aspects of your young life, including athletics, music, arts, knowledge, and self-confidence. Along the way you bond with classmates and friends in a special way that means you will bump into them 50 years later and pick up from the day you last saw them. If one of them becomes President of the United States, you feel like you could walk into the Oval Office and give them a noogie.
21-30
This is where adulting begins.
For some, it means plunging into the workforce.
For others, it is a time of wandering, trying to find yourself by losing yourself in self-indulgence. If we only knew this is also the decade you feel the best, physically, a condition we will envy looking back.
31-40 and 41-50
The working years. If you follow a semblance of normalcy, these two decades are spent trudging into a job at 8am, getting an hour for lunch, then trudging home at 5pm. There, if you are lucky, a loving dog and adoring children wait to welcome you. Also probably, a clogged toilet, an exhausted mom, and wailing baby. Feed everything, read them a book, rock to sleep, rinse, and repeat.
For 20 years.
51-60
Make that 30 years. Except now the kids are in college, which is why you are still working 9 to 5.
61-70
If you are fortunate, these could be the golden years. You’ve conquered the beast, the kids are planting flags in their own decades, and you and your partner have settled into a comfortable parallel existence. You might have put back a little to allow for some luxuries, such as eating at the buffet once a month, and even taking a trip to some beach, somewhere.
But the shadow of aging is also your unexpected guest, reminding you that you can’t sprint in the sand, swim to the dock, or swill those mimosas with abandon anymore.
71-80
This is the decade of daily documenting the advance of aching joints and inventorying the status of each organ. This is the decade all the earlier decadence catches up to you. Was it really worth playing all those sports, knowing the day would come when you paid the bill in knee replacements, arthritis, and early-onset dementia?
81-90
This is when every compliment comes with “for your age.” As in “wow, you look really good for your age.”
91-100
If you are fortunate to reach this mile marker, you have gained a privileged perspective on time and life. I once did a project for a lovely, lively 93-year-old lady. One day I planned a meeting. She said for me to call first to see how she was feeling. She explained, “Phil, you don’t understand. When you reach my age, every day you wake up not knowing how you are going to feel. One day you might want to go dancing; the next you might not be able to walk from the bed to the table.”
I’m beginning to understand.
Back to my grand’s question: What decade would you change?
I was tempted to tell her I might exchange one of those “working” decades for another shot at my 20s, but holding a job that bettered the community, bought our groceries, and utilized my talents provided great satisfaction.
Instead, I said I would not change a single thing.
She was not satisfied with my answer. But I told her what I learned raising her mother: Every year was a challenge, and every moment was wonderful.