Ok, I admit, growing old is not easy. Try as hard as you can, you have got to fess up to the fact that there are many, many things you just can’t do anymore when you reach your seventies and beyond. Until I reached eighty, sailing was a passion. Then when it became apparent that getting on and off our last boat, Second Wind, was a disaster waiting in the wings to happen, Embry and I sold the boat to a young family who moved her to another marina on the Chesapeake Bay farther south. As sad as it was to say goodbye to Second Wind, it was the right choice, and we felt good about it. Last fall when given the opportunity to join a racing team (as an observer) on the Chesapeake Bay near Annapolis, I realized that I did not enjoy the experience anymore.
Then there were the power walks that I did five or six days a week for over a decade, if you can call a pace of 15 or 16 minutes a mile a “power walk.” I started serious long distance running when turning 30 and kept it up or a good 30 plus years before a bad knee caused me to switch to walking in my sixties. Now when I walk, I inch along using a hiking stick and occasionally a rollator and move very, very slowly, terrified of falling. I have only had two falls but one put me in the hospital for week. And I had to give up tennis altogether though I never was much good in that anyway. Nor have I been able to resume my serious lap swimming since my last fall about six months ago. Vigorous exercise was for me as much of an emotional, even a spiritual activity for me as it was a physical one. Those days are now pretty much over and I miss them.
Then there are the other challenges. I have had a serious hearing disability since my fifties, which has only gotten worse the older I get. But thank heaven for hearing aids, which have gotten much better over the years. However, ambient noise in restaurants and other crowded locations makes it almost impossible to hear, and I fake it a lot by nodding and saying something like “very interesting” or “really?” until I see a horrified look on someone’s face and respond with “sorry, I think I misunderstood, could you repeat that?” And hooray for subtitles that are now available for most television programs and for some movies. Without them I would understand zilch. Remembering names of new friends and acquaintances is also a challenge. Even worse is not being able to recall the name of an old friend even though you know exactly what that person looks like—or at least used to look like. We now live in a continuing care retirement community where we all wear name tags or at least are supposed to. That way makes it easier for me to remember names– including my own–though still it often is not all that easy.
And unlike in some cultures where elders are revered and honored, in the U.S. we are often cast aside as being “over the hill” and “out of touch.” Sadly, for some experiencing memory loss or other disabilities there is some truth to this. And I do have to wonder why given all the experiences we have had we are not wiser, but we are still hanging in there and doing the best we can, and this should be enough for us old codgers to cherish and to celebrate.
I won’t go into complaining about the usual aches and pains of old age, the visits to doctors, “organ recitals”, urgent care centers, and not being able to do a lot of, ahem, other things which we used to be able to do–and which I will not go into! That is the price we humans pay for the privilege of living long lives—a lot longer than we used to. The average life expectancy for someone born in the United States today is 79 years (81 for women and 76.5 for men). But it was not that long ago when it was much lower. In 19th-century America, average life expectancy at birth hovered between 40 to 43 years though this low number was skewed by high infant and child mortality rates, since 30% to 40% of children died before the age of five. Those who survived childhood frequently lived into their 60s or early 70s but not a whole lot longer. And if you go back to the time when, say, the New Testament of the Bible was written, the life expectancy was only 25 to 35—at least according to my friend, AI. It was not all that unusual for a man to die in his early 30s as Jesus did.
My goodness, we have come a long way, baby!
But there is also much to praise about old age and to be thankful for. Maybe we aren’t as sharp as we used to be but most of us are wiser. We have been there, done that, and have seen and experienced a lot. We do not have to worry so much about what we wear, what we look like or what we say. There is no need to try to impress anyone. At our advanced age we are what we are. Humility does not always accompany old age but for many it does. We all have made our share of mistakes and done dumb things. And most of us have to face up to the fact that we did not accomplish all our dreams. The question is not whether we made a lot of money, were powerful, rich, or famous, but whether we were good people, did the best we could, “loved our neighbor,” and whether we gave life our best shot.
And if you are still breathing and kicking at any age, give thanks for that. You are a survivor.