“When is your finish line?”

Curt Fowler asked this question in a column headline a few years ago.

Curt is a South Georgia business leader, a business writer, speaker and business coach. He wrote a weekly column that ran for a few years in The Valdosta Daily Times.

In this particular column, Curt asked, “How old will you be when you die? We all have a year in mind, we just don’t like to talk about it. Write it down.”

I wrote down 111.

I’ve liked the sound of the age 111 ever since reading J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Lord of the Rings.” Early in “The Fellowship of the Ring,” hobbit Bilbo Baggins is celebrating his 111th birthday but Tolkien refers to it as Bilbo’s “eleventy-first” birthday.

So beside 111, I wrote down “eleventy-first.”

A ridiculously old age, a tremendously long life, a ridiculous reason to choose an age simply because it would sound neat to say, “I’m celebrating my eleventy-first birthday.”

Yet, a poignant number given a recent text message.

My paternal grandfather’s birthday was April 5. My mom regularly sends reminders about my grandparents’ birthdays and death dates. A memorial to family members via text. Mom usually adds a note on the birthdays, noting how old the grandparent would have been.

Had he not died more than 30 years ago, my grandfather would have been 115 years old on his birthday. The text reminded me of Curt’s column and my note of living to 111. Had Grandpa Poling lived to 111, we would have had him until only four years ago rather than his passing in 1990. Had my maternal grandfather lived to his “eleventy-first,” we would have had him until about six years ago instead of his passing in 1991.

Both of my grandmothers would still be with us. My maternal grandmother, who lived to 95, passing in 2008, would be with us for another year or so; so would my paternal grandmother who passed in 1999.

My dad passed eight years ago. If he lived to 111, he would be with us until 2050.

Yet, they didn’t live until 111. Why wonder about what was not and what cannot be?

Because it’s interesting to imagine what could have been.

I imagine the joy my grandfathers would take in meeting my sons, their great-grandsons, and watching them come of age. My boys were born after both of my grandfathers died. They never met but I can imagine the encounter. I imagine past meals and gatherings with my grandparents stretching into the lives of my children and now their children.

Even though such a gathering will never happen here on earth, the thought is comforting.

The thought of living to 111, however, is challenging.

Because the gist of Curt’s column, in picking your desired age/finish line, was how much time do you have to accomplish the things you want to accomplish in life.

At 60, I would have another 51 years. Another full lifetime, really.

We cannot know the day or hour of our death. For all I know, I could pass at 1:11 a.m./p.m., or any other time from now until whenever then may be. But the possibility – no matter how far-fetched – of having another 51 years, what would that look like?

I would see my sons into their 80s and 70s. I might meet my great-great-great-grandkids.

What would I do? If I live to 111 that means 51 years to do so many things. Maybe learn a musical instrument or two, write novels and history books, learn a new skill, become a gardener or a chef or a woodworker …

I’ve already retired from full-time work, and enjoying downtime now, but I’d want to do something else. I would need to do something else to afford such a long life. What would my second career be? Fifty-one years … what would my third career be after retiring from my second career.

And if I’m to live so long, how well am I taking care of myself? I should eat better, get exercise and plenty of sleep, see a doctor regularly.

The possibilities are endless … though time is finite. Even 51 more years would go quickly.

So whether that time leads until our “eleventy-first” or another 30 years or 20, 10, five or tomorrow: We must make the most of the time we are given.

Dean Poling is a former editor with The Valdosta Daily Times and The Tifton Gazette.