Here’s to Old Age

I’m writing this essay to myself because I’m approaching 83 and I need to grow up—at least my mind does. While I can’t change the inevitable slowing down of my body, I sure as hell can shift my perspective of exactly what it means for me to grow old—and by damned I’m going to try my best. It’s sort of like my perspective on whether my glass is half empty or half full; I can treat it in a negative or positive way. And since happiness is my goal, half full is the best attitude.

“There is no fountain of youth, except within our own mind.”

We all wish to live a long life, and if we are lucky, we will. But as we get closer to that “longer” life, we begin to lament our aging. Does that make sense? Sure it does, because we wish to get older without our body aging—that’s what doesn’t make any sense. I’m a believer that the second half or our life is supposed to be better than the first half. Why? Because we spend the first half discovering who we are, making way too many mistakes, and learning how to do life. In the second half we start reaping the benefits of that knowledge and we enjoy life at a much higher degree.

Sure, I’d love to be younger, but instead of mourning my lost youth—a negative, I can celebrate every extra year I get and be darn grateful for getting older—a positive. And while I’m at it I realize that it’s so much better than the alternative—my ashes being dispensed into the Gulf of Mexico. (Yup, that’s where my family will say goodbye to me. I grew up on the gulf and I dearly love being out there today, so what better place to recycle me?)

We all need to remember there is nothing inherently or invincibly young—except our spirit. And the great thing about our spirit is that it can better manifest itself in the quiet of our old age and reside there more undisturbed than in the chaos and turmoil that accompanied our youth. We just need to keep in constant communication with our spirit and keep it moving in the positive.

Here’s another thing. I’d like to believe all those years I’ve been around had some meaning to more than myself (bar all the mistakes I made). So, if that’s true, my being around as an old man must “also” have a significance of its own and not merely be a pitiful mourning of my getting old. If we can’t continue being meaningful, we may as well sneak away by ourselves into oblivion and not spread our dread and woe on those we love, or we’ll undue much of the meaning we worked so hard to earn—that would top any of our past mistakes.

Speaking of love, we should realize that the greatest measure of our success in life has little to do with money or notoriety. When you get to old age you realize that success is measured by how many of the people in your life you wish to love you, actually do. Notoriety, having a bridge or library named after you, or being worth millions, and having no one who truly loves you, is a life wasted—a true disaster. When we have people in our life who deeply love us, and when we think of them tears form in our eyes, our life has true meaning. If we leave a legacy of loving and being loved, well, that’s the greatest gift life can bequeath, and guess what—we can continue it way into our productive old age. As long as we have our spirit and our mind, nothing can stop us but ourselves. Love is the greatest of gifts, for you get back far more than you give.

There is no fountain of youth, except within our own mind. We all have talents and creativity, and when we tap those resources and share them with those around us, we defeat old age. Time isn’t a factor in thinking, (except if the debilitating disease takes even our memory that from us). If we can think, we can toss aging out the window even when our bodies slow way down, for we can keep our mind young regardless of our creaky body. We really grow old when we desert our ideas and ideals and wade in self-pity. It’s a given that time will put wrinkles on our face, but to give up fervor wrinkles our soul. We can choose enthusiasm and zest for life until we no longer breathe—it “is” our choice.

I look at the many photos on our walls of me with my children when they were young and I realize that even though I didn’t think so back then, I was a good-looking young man. Not long ago I would look in the mirror and feel embarrassed at my wrinkled face, my nearly nonexistent grey hair, and my stupid looking eyebrows. But other old, wrinkled faces never embarrass me, so what was going on? Well, I realized that beauty has a different meaning when it comes to age. It hit me when I read a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt. “Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, but beautiful old people are works of art.” I removed the curtain from my mirror and now gaze upon a work of art, thanks Eleanor, I desperately needed that. Beauty is not just one’s exterior; in fact, the most significant and lasting beauty is a person’s character.

Aging is merely the long process whereby we finally become the person we worked so hard to become. We sailed seas with smooth waters and rough storms that took us to our port of seasoned awareness we term old age. If we have our health, a sharp mind, and can still move, then we need to appreciate and enjoy who we have become, no matter how slow we are. We should embrace our changing body, and once we do, we can take advantage of getting older. I’ve decided I’m not going to get depressed at my 83th birthday, but instead, I’m going to celebrate it and then look forward to my 90th. And If I should I be so lucky as to arrive at my 90th in sound mind and still-working body, I’ll celebrate that even more, and then look forward to my 100th. I know I’m pushing it a bit to hope for 100.

Look, resisting the transition into old age will only prevent us from enjoying all the happiness and love that lies ahead. We need to bring to bear all our prior experiences and the knowledge we have gained from all those who helped whittle us, and put them to work for our tomorrows, for us and more so for those we love. Here’s to old age. tj