Introduction
In the corner of my mind that is reserved for precious childhood memories is the image of a book that hid unbelievable magic. As one opened its pages a small village magically appeared, like Brigadoon, or Alice emerging from the rabbit hole. All of this from the two dimensional pages into a three dimensional world. The extra-ordinary from the ordinary. My life has been like that; opening up subtleties that never seemed possible, while at the same time, I physically age and became the yellowing pages within that book, as its beauty comes close to closing forever. To be able to look behind the paper houses and unreal folds of an emerging world, and to be able to look at the nuance in that incredible book of Life; this is the examined life.
It seemed an easy thing to do. At 78, writing about getting old should be a no-brainer. I know lots of older friends and my thought was, “I can get them talking about getting old and perhaps record the conversation. From there, writing about aging should be a snap.”
But it doesn’t happen very easily. After a bit I opened my eyes and realize that people don’t talk much about aging. Evidence is that we think about it a lot, but, like politics and religion, it’s not a topic of common conversation. We may joke about the aches in our left buttock, but we don’t talk about the aches in our soul. We may make vague comments like, “This getting old is no fun,” but we seldom go into any deep discussion about why.
“Arthritis in my index finger.”
“Do you want to do hats for charity?”
“ No, I want to knit for me or my grandchild that is on the way.”
“Where’s Milly? She’s still eating—you know Milly!”
“I’ll never buy any of this yarn again. Why? Because it’s made in China
“Yes, The Chinese will rule us pretty soon.”
Chitter and chatter, but no one speaks the unspoken truth: “I’m old. I don’t know how much future I have. I don’t know how I got so old.” Or, as my Alzheimer’s mother said, when told she was 84, “Where did I go?”
Where did I go, indeed. It isn’t where life went that I think of so much, but I would be blind if I didn’t realize that my future is narrowing down as though written in disappearing ink. I do my exercises, but I sometimes wonder what for, or when for. Are we just kidding ourselves when we think we can maintain mental and physical health by sheer will and a positive attitude?
Probably not. So, I took a look back at the conversation in the knitting group: We concern ourselves with the present and what it holds. We try not to think about what we can’t do any more, or what we wish we had done in those years when we were comely and agile. We have today, and really, that’s all we're sure of, but, how do we use this present hour well?
Some of us worship our God who promises a future, and some of us hope that our religious friends are right, but we wonder. Each yearly physical causes us to quake in our aging boots for weeks before the event. “What will they find wrong?” we worry. When will the boom drop. I remember the boom that killed my father. He had an aching jaw and began living on Tylenol. Then he went to the doctor. Xrays and a biopsy later, and he had his ticket to the grave. Squamous Cell Carcinoma in the jaw. It took a year and a half for the boxing match between he and the disease ended, but end it did. As they say, “He didn’t have a chance.” By the time we reach our 70s, we all have these memories.
And so, what we have is today. But what is today like for the elderly? Is it as good as it can be? As good as we deserve? How does one live each day as wisely and joyfully as possible? Good questions, every one, because, for the elderly, the question, “What do we do with today?” is of utmost importance. Let us investigate the American Elderly. What are they doing with their time? What are they doing with the day they have? What should they be doing with their limited time? What keeps all of us from really totally enjoying these last moments before the disappearing ink eats up our future? What to think, where to live, who to be with, are all questions we need to consider--as well as the most profound question of all:
Why was I here?
1 comment:
Wonderful post, Sue. I am going to share.
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