Turning 80
Turning 80 last month was not easy for me. I used to be the youngest person | in the room. Now I am the oldest. Once, I was a child prodigy. Now I am an elderly man who gets seats offered to him when he rides the metro.
Frankly, I am struggling to deal with my age and the issues related to it. It is mostly psychological but not completely.
In 1999, I left Intel, where I was Vice President of Corporate Business Development and the co-founder of Intel Capital. I am best known for these roles, as well as being a key driver in establishing the residential broadband infrastructure that became so instrumental in creating today’s consumer internet. I did important work which was valued then; this is now. We are entering into a period of increased longevity. The percent of people over the age of 80 in the USA has increased from 2.3% in 1980 to 3.7 in 2020, a more than 60% increase. This increase is expect to continue. I don’t want to forecast much into the future because we do not know what kind of advances will be made in health care. But most of us are not prepared for life after 80. Also, most people that age have health problems that impact there lives. Less than 25% are still 100% fit. I fall into that category at least for now. For most of my life, i was focused on the future including my own future. Now I need to live in the present. That is where I am struggling. If I could just focus on the present without concern about the future. My present is really very good. I live well and have an amazing relationship with my wife.
My past is disappearing
At its height, Intel was one of the top ten companies in the world. That is when I walked out. When I resigned, the market cap of the company was about $250 billion. It would grow to almost $500 billion at its peak a year later. Since I thought that Intel had some room for appreciation, I hedged my stock and sold it right at the peak. In 2003, Forbes placed me in the 8th position on its Midas List of the top venture investors.
My decision to leave Intel was based on several factors. Not only did I not see a continuing role for myself, but I also had serious concerns about Intel’s future, which sadly proved to be correct. I no longer wanted to work for a company. I wanted to be on my own. I wanted to see what I could accomplish without Intel at my back.
In 1996, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. It was treated using a new technique called brachytherapy (using radioactive seeds that are implanted directly into the prostate). I chose that method on the advice of Andy Grove, who did the same thing a year before me. Unfortunately, I had a reaction that was later identified as a PSA bounce, a phenomenon not recognized until several years after my treatment. It occurred in younger men (prostate cancer affects men as they age, and a 51-year-old like me was considered a young man). Instead of my PSA (the marker for prostate cancer) going down, it started to go up. It looked like my cancer had metastasized. My doctor said, “Well, at least it’s not going up quickly,” and then, of course, it started going up quickly. It was a very stressful time for me, to say the least. A number of doctors told me that it had metastasized. One even said that I probably had 5-10 years to enjoy my life.
It was then that I decided I would think about my future assuming that I only had ten years more to live. Prior to the cancer, I had been planning on starting a private equity firm with my friend Dave Roux of Oracle, but that no longer fit into my ten-year “rule.” He went on to found Silver Lake Partners. I became a limited partner.
I was just 54 years old when I left Intel. With my experience and successful track record at Intel Capital, it would have been natural to start a venture capital firm, but I never actually thought of myself as a venture capitalist. Rather, I thought of myself as an activist strategist, and I wanted to help a few companies develop their strategic plans. Fortunately, I was financially comfortable and did not have to be concerned about adding to my wealth. I served on a number of boards, advised investment banking firms, and invested in early-stage companies for my own account. For instance, I put together much of the first round of Oura Ring. But slowly, I began to lose interest in business. I also realized that much of my standing in the world of technology was associated with Intel and its success. I remember thinking that the half-life of a technology strategist was about a year. The result is less than 1% after ten years.
It was then that I started to jokingly refer to myself as “The Former Avram Miller.” For the longest time, I could explain that I had been an executive at Intel and founded its very successful venture arm, Intel Capital and people would be impressed. Now, Intel is seen as a failing company. Intel Capital is a shadow of what it was in my time and is in the process of being spun out as a separate entity with a new name. A big part of my identity has been eroded.
From a ten year horizon to a five year horizon
Fortunately, I am in good physical and mental health. But at my age, how long will this continue? So now I have revised the time horizon for decisions. I make life decisions assuming I have only five years. When I had a horizon of ten years, I felt that I had a lot of time to make things happen, but with five years, I have my doubts.
I no longer want to be on boards, and it is unlikely that any board would want me at this age. I am happy to advise entrepreneurs, but this results in at most a few hours of engagement a week.
I am still able to keep up with the key developments in technology. I have returned to my first career, which was in medical science. But I want to transition to something I can do all by myself. I wrote a memoir called The Flight of a Wild Duck, which was published in 2022. It took three years and was, all in all, a good experience. I am considering writing another book, but perhaps this time it will be a work of fiction. I like the idea of creating something out of nothing. It was what I did when I was programing computer and composing music.
But right now, I feel lost. Saying this probably makes some people uncomfortable. I guess you are not supposed to say that kind of thing. However, I have always been able to share my feelings, and I think it may be valuable to others who are having some of the same experiences.
The depressing state of the world
To make things even more complex, the world situation is creating a great deal of instability and uncertainty, which is also impacting me like so many. We moved out of Israel just before the Oct. 7th war. We traveled for a while before moving to Amsterdam while we thought about where we would want to settle longer term. Eventually, we decided to move to Italy, where we are now living. We are studying Italian. This will be my fourth language. I am hoping I will love it. I was never able to master my third language, Hebrew.
We do not age uniformly
Health is a consideration. Our bodies do not age uniformly. So while I may look sixty-five to some, I know that my hearing and sight are not sixty-five. I struggle to see my computer screen as I write this post. I have trouble understanding people in noisy environments. I have arthritis in my hands, which makes it difficult for me to play the piano with the same level of energy as in the past. At some point, I will probably have one or more chronic diseases and have to spend a lot of time dealing with that. This is not something to look forward to.
When I see people my age whom I have not seen in a while, I am stunned by how they look. The beautiful girl that I met and loved when she was 16 is now a senior citizen. My oldest son is older than I was when I left Intel. Three of my four grandsons are adults. Every year, a few friends die. Many just disappear. Perhaps they are struggling with some of the same things that confront me now.
I need some reprograming
For the first time in my life, I have bouts of depression. If I say anything about this, people start worrying about me because of the suicide that runs in my family. But I think it is better to own up to it. I hope it does not get worse.
Still, I am adventurous. We have traveled to twelve countries in the last year. I guess most my age would not just pick up and move to a different country which I have now done three times in the last ten years and each with a different language.
Fortunately, I am married to the most amazing woman, Deborah. She is my joy and blessing and more than enough reason to stay alive.
Thank you, Avram, for your candour and honesty. I think you will find that many have similar thoughts and feelings as we think of our pasts, live in our present, and gaze into our futures. You have lived a remarkable life to this point, which should be a source of great pride. You have not wasted your talents, but applied them to great effect. Now is the time to do things that primarily bring you and Deborah joy. I hope your low moments will be few and of short duration, and your happy experiences many and of long duration. Thanks for always sharing your thoughts and insights and please keep doing so!
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Dear Avram,
Your words resonate deeply, as if they were written from a place I, too, am just beginning to understand. You stand at 80, looking at the shifting horizon of time, and I stand at 50, feeling the weight of reinvention pressing upon me. We are at different points along the path, yet the questions are strikingly similar—who am I now, outside of what I have built? Where does my voice belong in a world that seems to have moved forward without me? And what does recognition look like when the measures of success that once defined us begin to dissolve?
You were once the youngest in the room; now you are offered seats on the metro. I was once sure of my direction; now I am searching for guidance, for a sense of belonging in a space that no longer feels familiar. I, too, have spent years creating—images, stories, moments—but now I wonder, will they be seen? Will they matter?
Perhaps this is the universal truth of time: it strips away the roles we once played and asks us to step forward without them. It forces us to create not for legacy, not for validation, but because creation itself is the act that keeps us present. Maybe the next book you write, the next melody you compose, the next idea you breathe life into is not about proving what you once were, but about embracing who you are now.
At 50, I am an artist seeking recognition, seeking guidance. At 80, you are a visionary seeking presence, seeking meaning. Maybe we are not so different. Maybe the journey is not about holding on to what was but about learning how to stand in the beauty of what remains.
With admiration and understanding,
Lena
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Your honesty and wisdom are so important. Thank you for this.
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Thank you for posting this. I’m not too far behind you. This was a wonderful articulation of my current state of being. All I can say is hang in there, do what brings your joy, and please keep posting!
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Hang in there, Av. You have spent eight decades building value and impressions in the barrel; now it is quite OK to take from the barrel, and to do those things that please you.
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I am confident that you will continue to live an extraordinary life even it is different than in the past. Just keep reminding yourself of how much others depend on you for wisdom and laughter.
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Hi, Avram! Another important concern has to be ‘how is Deborah holding up’? In a couple, the health of each partner determines what the couple can and cannot do. It sounds like Deborah is doing fine, so that’s good. My Gerry is doing fine. Me, on the other hand, understand your hearing and vision challenges. But, fortunately, they are surmountable. Take care, Mary Cole
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Avram, you are dear, and I loved reading this. I appreciate you and th
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Avram, Love your title for this piece, “Formerly, the former . . . “ I’ve been getting to know you as I’m half way through your book. I’m delighted to read your story. It paints an excellent picture of what it takes to be a Silicon Valley Star in that era and clarifies a lot about why I wasn’t. We were born in the same year. The first computer I got to touch was an IBM 1620 in 1964. I won’t bore you with more but I will say we both love jazz piano. Keep on keeping on. The world needs strategic thinkers for as long as they can communicate. BTW, my wife and I shared dinner last night with Bev.
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