Old: and getting older every day

I have something I really need to say, something I’ve been mulling over for a few years, possible a lifetime, my lifetime, that is. It’s about my life time. It’s this: I think people, in my experience, are afraid of age, of aging, of being around older people. Yet . . . getting older, it will happen to everyone, to you too—if you are lucky.

I almost titled this post I Dare You: I Dare You to Read This to the End. But I do understand. I really do. When I was very young I too felt that way: older people were an enigma, frightening, boring. All of those things, all at once. Only my peers interested me. I didn’t like the questions older people asked me. I thought they were annoying, wasting my time; I had more important things to think about. If I look back on it, it was really only me who interested me. Other people, and especially people my age or younger, were a mirror for me, reflecting myself back to me. As examples of how to be or examples of how they saw me. Probably the best thing for me about growing older is becoming more interested in other people and the big world outside of me and my life. And this is because I feel more comfortable with myself. After all those years of searching for “something” outside myself, searching to find success, a man, friends, things, I found all that I needed by not searching. And this has come with age. Seasoning.

What’s it like to be “old” (or older)? When I’m out there shoveling snow and the wind is blowing, I wonder . . . when I carry the garbage up my long driveway to the curb, I wonder. . . When I’m with friends dancing, I wonder. . . I wonder how long I will be able to do this. When I go to bed early, I wonder because this is something I’ve always liked to do. I’ve never liked to sleep late into the mornings. I like to sleep in the nude. I still walk through the woods on rocky paths (and forget to bring my cell phone). I won’t wear loud patterns near my face anymore, but I definitely want to dress well. I used to have a phenomenal memory. Now it is not so great; names, especially, slip away and it is very frustrating. I still get up on ladders and take screens down myself. But I do hold onto railings when taking stairs. I still carry my heavy canvases around. I still work with obsessive energy. I haven’t lost the lust for life. I haven’t lost desire.

There definitely are changes. I am more settled in myself; I enjoy my life more; I worry less; I enjoy other people more, even older people, and especially younger (very young) ones. I could still dance all night if I had a partner. I could even make love all night. I just haven’t met the right person yet. Sadly there are fewer people to meet at this age. Yet I enjoy my life even when those things are not available. The best thing for me about aging is an ease that has come into my life.

Even my friends have a hard time relating to age. I was talking to a (fifty-nine year old) friend who also saw the Beckett plays. She thought The Mouth was possibly talking too fast for an older woman. I was surprised. The Mouth was seventy! I just turned seventy! I might not run or walk fast anymore, but I can talk fast if I need to. There definitely are physical changes. I may have trouble with the fine print but I can see better in the distance than I did. I do have some aches and need to take care not to move in inappropriate ways, to exercise properly every day. But I was told when I was seventeen to do specific exercises or I would have trouble later. I ignored the advice because I was young and invulnerable, or so I thought.

Once I gave an assignment at the Art College for the students to do a drawing inspired by a poem. I gave them three to choose from. I thought they were very graphic. One in particular, a Garcia Lorca poem which began “If I die, throw the windows open. . . “ It’s not “if” but “when”, something we inevitably all do. To me, the poem embraced life by acknowledging death. To the students, it was morbid and they had trouble relating. They were in a different stage of their lives—they were in the accumulating, acquiring and inquiring stage. They possibly hadn’t met death intimately yet. It’s hard to look directly at the thought that life will end for each of us. After the experience with the poems, I let my students choose their text. That worked well and I learned what interested them.

Last year when I posted by first entry on Holidailies, I had the usual flurry of readers. But after that, hardly any. My first post was about being forced to retire from teaching. Mandatory retirement. Too old to teach. That makes me boring to anyone not facing “old age”, right? I was a good teacher but I must say, I learned more from my students than they learned from me. Besides the latest in fashion and music and art, I learned how to listen, to appreciate differences, to help others. I’m not too old to teach. I’m not too old to learn.

There is humor in aging, especially when it comes from a legendary person. This “song” was sent to me by my cousin’s daughter.

To commemorate her 69th birthday on October 1, actress/vocalist, Julie Andrews made a special appearance at Manhattan's Radio City Music Hall for the benefit of the AARP. One of the musical numbers she performed was 'My Favorite Things' from the legendary movie 'Sound Of Music. Here are the actual lyrics she used:

Maalox and nose drops and needles for knitting,
Walkers and handrails and new dental fittings,
Bundles of magazines tied up in string,
These are a few of my favorite things.

Cadillacs and cataracts, and hearing aids and glasses,
Polident and Fixodent and false teeth and glasses,
Pacemakers, golf carts and porches with swings,
These are a few of my favorite things.

When the pipes leak,
When the bones creak,
When the knees go bad,
I simply remember my favorite things,
And then I don't feel so bad.

Hot tea and crumpets and corn pads for bunions,
No spicy hot food or food cooked with onions,
Bathrobes and heating pads and hot meals they bring,
These are a few of my favorite things.

Back pains, confused brains, and no need for sinnin',
Weak bones and fractures and hair that is thinnin',
And we won't mention our short, shrunken frames,
Remembering our favorite things but not our names.

When the joints ache,
When the hips break,
When the eyes grow dim,
Then I remember the great life I've had,
And then I don't feel so bad!

*(Ms. Andrews received a standing ovation from the crowd that lasted over four minutes and repeated encores.) Please share Ms. Andrews' clever wit and humor with others who would appreciate it.

Yes, I'm old. And proud of it.

Posted by leya at December 5, 2007 11:47 AM | TrackBack