By Joyce Wayne
Beyond a doubt, I’m a late bloomer. I gave birth to my first and only child when I was 40, and although I was in a relationship, I chose not to marry until I was 66 years old and my daughter was on her way to a promising career. My childhood and adolescence were marred by a dissatisfied mother and a demanding father, a married couple who were far from an example of marital bliss or anything close to it.
To my way of thinking, I needed to take care of myself, become well-educated, hold down good jobs, and live in my own house before I even considered bringing a tiny human into this world. Marriage would come after I was economically secure: after establishing a career and long-term economic stability. Before marrying my husband in 2017, my former partner was a poet and university professor 16 years older than me. I trusted him, but as I grew older I realized that I trusted him, but our age difference restricted every aspect of our relationship. It was time to be responsible for myself.
Early Bloomers vs Late Bloomers in Life:
In the Atlantic magazine, David Brooks writes:
“Today we live in a society structured to promote early bloomers. Our school system has sorted people by the time they are 18, using grades and SAT scores. Some of these people zoom to prestigious academic launching pads while others get left behind. Many of our most prominent models of success made it big while young—Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, Elon Musk, Taylor Swift, and Michael Jordan. Magazines publish lists with headlines like “30 Under 30” to glamorize youthful superstars on the rise.” Age discrimination is a fact of life. We need to look no further than the current U.S. presidential race to witness agism in full force.
And then there are people like me who are not early bloomers. It took me many years to overcome an arduous childhood and to find my way in the adult world. Putting too much emphasis on the spectacular feats of early bloomers might force us to miss those who bloom later in life and often after hard-won battles with early disappointments or challenges.
In a clever response to the cult of early bloomers, Brooks writes: “Young people are just smarter,’ Mark Zuckerberg once said, in possibly the dumbest statement in American history. ‘There are no second acts in American lives’, F. Scott Fitzgerald once observed, in what might be the next dumbest.”
What Does it Mean to be a Late Bloomer
There are better methods to look at why some bloom later than others. In his book Late Bloomers, Rich Karlgaard asks two crucial questions. First, why didn’t late bloomers bloom earlier? Second, what characteristics do late bloomers possess or develop that enable them to bloom later? During his research, Karlgaard discovered that late bloomers are “qualitatively different, possessing a different set of abilities that are mostly invisible to or discouraged by our current education system.”
According to Karlgaard, late bloomers need to invent their own paths. Late bloomers “fulfill their potential frequently in novel and unexpected ways,” Karlgaard writes, “surprising even those closest to them.” I understand. When I left home to attend university, I chose an entirely different path than the one my parents chose for me. They wished that I would live at home with them while attending university. My mother wasn’t convinced that I should attend university, believing that a secretarial job would be best for me, so my parents decided not to help me out financially during my first year of studies. The summer before I left my Windsor, Ontario home, I worked three jobs: one as a cashier at a grocery store, the other as a secretary in an auto parts factory and the third running the night switchboard as the receptionist at the YMCA. I applied for a student loan, and between that and the money I saved working during the summer, I made it to Carleton University in Ottawa.
Success Story as a Late Bloomer
For decades, it was hit-and-miss for me. I relied on trial and error to establish my own path, but it was not until I was 62 that I published my first novel, The Cook’s Temptation, and not until I was 68 that I published my second novel, Last Night of the World. I might not write another novel –or I might– but I’ve recently found great joy and a sense of accomplishment by writing essays for The Literary Review of Canada. One of my essays, All the Kremlin’s Men, was chosen for Best Canadian Essays in 2021.
During the last year, I spent most of my time editing a collection of eight essays for a book entitled A National Awakening: Robin Mathews and the Struggle for Canadian Identity. Mathews, who was my professor and thesis advisor, passed away last year at the age of 91. His cause was to encourage governments, schools and universities, and arts and entertainment organizations to include a full range of Canadian content in their offerings. I admire each of the gifted contributors to this book and found that working as their editor was one of the most rewarding tasks that I’ve experienced.
It is Your Time to Bloom
So, don’t despair. If you’re older than 40, 50, or 60 and haven’t found your niche, there is time to develop your specialty, your contribution to the arts and letters, politics and business, or helping others. Finding your own path is exhilarating.
Like my beautifully aging rose bushes in the garden, it is never too late to bloom.
