I don't think you should celebrate age.

In the words of Dennis Skinner, “I don’t think you should celebrate age.” At first, these words may sound harsh or austere, as if they deny the worth of growing older. Yet within them lies a deeper and humbler wisdom, born from the heart of a man who lived not in indulgence but in duty. Skinner, the “Beast of Bolsover,” was a British politician of fierce conviction—a man of labor, service, and principle. When he speaks of not celebrating age, he is not scorning the passage of time, but rejecting the idleness and self-congratulation that can come when one forgets the purpose of their years. For to him, life was never about counting candles, but about keeping one’s fire lit.

In the ancient way of thinking, age was meant to be a crown only if it was earned—if the years were spent in work, justice, or wisdom. A man did not become noble by growing old, but by how he lived in the time given. This is the heart of Skinner’s message. He lived through decades of struggle, representing the working class, fighting for fairness, and refusing to bow to luxury or ceremony. To “celebrate age” merely as the passing of time, he suggests, is to mistake existence for achievement. What matters is not how long one lives, but how fiercely one’s heart continues to serve.

The Roman philosopher Seneca once wrote, “It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste much of it.” Skinner’s belief carries the same fire. Age, he reminds us, is not a trophy—it is a reminder of time’s weight. To grow older is not an accomplishment, but an opportunity renewed each day: to keep moving, to keep building, to keep caring for the world beyond oneself. He calls us away from vanity and toward vitality—away from celebration, and toward continuation.

Consider the example of Nelson Mandela, who at seventy-five could have rested upon his name and his suffering. Yet, instead, he chose to lead, to heal a nation torn apart by hatred. He did not celebrate his age; he used it. His years became a tool, a testament that wisdom means nothing if it does not act. In him, as in Skinner’s words, we see the truth that life’s worth is measured not in length, but in motion. The energy of purpose can outshine the fading of youth, and the heart that keeps its conviction never grows old.

Thus, when Skinner says he does not celebrate age, he is not scorning the elderly or denying the beauty of a life well-lived. He is warning us against complacency—the danger of believing that time itself is glory. For every new decade should be a new labor, every birthday a reminder that the world still calls us to work, to create, to defend what is right. The true celebration of age is not in feasts or praise, but in the continuation of effort, in refusing to surrender one’s vitality to the comfort of years.

The lesson, then, is clear: do not count your years—make your years count. Let your age be invisible to your purpose. Whether twenty or eighty, do not retreat into nostalgia or self-pity; move forward with the strength of one who still has something to give. For the soul that continues to fight, to learn, to dream, is never truly old.

So, my child, remember Skinner’s wisdom. When the world offers you the easy comfort of retirement from purpose, refuse it. Keep your energy burning, your convictions sharp, and your compassion alive. Do not celebrate the years behind you—honor them by what you still dare to do. For age is not an ending, but a measure of endurance; and the one who keeps their spirit awake walks forever in the company of the young.