I turned 78 last month. I wouldn't say “celebrated” because I've been trying to ignore my real age for years.
My healthy constitution allows me to have this myopia. For a long time, other people thought I was about 10-15 years younger than them. And I will be free from the usual aches, pains and disabilities that plague others.
But FaceTime and Zoom break through this self-deception. At least cameras and mirrors don't lie. My skin is like an old woman's. She's covered in skin tags, her arms have crepe paper wrinkles, her face is wrinkled and discolored all over. I hardly ever go out except to go to the supermarket, so I don't have to worry about makeup anymore. Therefore, I simply avoid looking at these revealing images. It would be better to live in an oasis of eternal youth without worrying about how you appear to others. In my head, I'm 35 years old. Maybe 40 years old.
I haven't done anything of value to this relatively youthful state. I hate exercise. I eat when I feel hungry and avoid kale and other trendy health foods. I'm just genetically lucky. At this point. My parents passed away in their mid-80s, and my grandfather passed away in his 90s. So I expect the same. Even good luck doesn't last long.
What doesn't stop as we get older is the change in our way of thinking about life. I don't plan long trips anymore. That's because you don't have the energy to walk around the airport endlessly, and who knows what state you'll be in by then. Frankly, I'm happy just being cooped up in my cute little house. I read, pet my Maine Coon cat, and stream Netflix. If it's windy and he rarely goes outside if it's colder than 50 degrees. This could be described as a dull, lonely life, enlivened only by phone calls to friends (very few immediate family members), the occasional movie, and Unitarian services. So far, I have been spared many funerals and memorial services, but with so many friends and relatives suffering from illness, there will be waterfalls on the horizon if I don't go first.
Most importantly, aging affects our sense of the future. Not only will I not be there, but it will be even worse than it is now for everyone. Fear of the next (seemingly inevitable) mass extinction is not limited to old people; from the decline of fireflies, bats, and horseshoe crabs to cold snaps, we are already aware that the world is changing even when we are young. We are more aware of the losses we are incurring. Winter and cool summer nights.
More importantly, we are acutely aware of the destruction of civility in the public square. The vitriol that fills public demonstrations and social media is not just offensive. It is a sign of the collapse of modern civilization. The ignorance of large sections of society is very depressing and shows no signs of abating. Of course, there are also oases of kindness. That's why I started attending a local Unitarian church dedicated to helping others. However, their number is small compared to the madmen filling the city.
Trumpism is just a sign of the times. It will not grow unless the conditions are right. People have become more self-centered, ignorant of the benefits of true democracy, and ignorant of the costs of their harsh words and actions, not only in their own communities but around the world. That's what I see as an old lady.
My father used to say that he lived to be 90 years old and had an optimistic view of civilization. A refugee from Tsarist Russia's pogroms at the beginning of the last century, he believed that the arc of history curved toward the betterment of humanity. He witnessed expanded voting rights, emancipation of the oppressed, and increased economic equality. But while away from the safety of America, he also lived through the Great Depression, World War II, and the Holocaust.
How did he remain an optimist? I should have asked him. Now you can take advantage of some of his optimism. We all need it to not give up. Another option is to renounce people and yourself.
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