To the Editor:
Regarding Charles M. Blow's “The Beauty of Embracing Aging” (June 6 column):
I admire Blow's lament for old age, especially since my own experience is so different.
Now that I'm 80, I find myself on a rollercoaster of emotions. Some days I'm filled with gratitude for all the material and social resources I've been blessed with, and the next I'm mad at my body, which I can no longer rely on and which is clearly weakening.
Sociologists say that for some people, old age brings a sense of calm, a release from the complex emotions that mark the onset of their early 90s. Until then, they hang on, grateful that this exhilarating, sometimes terrifying journey isn't over yet.
Jonathan Shirin
Toronto
He is the author of “Childhood, Aging, and the Life Cycle: Mapping Commonalities.”
To the Editor:
Charles Blow has the right idea about how to deal with aging, but it gets harder every year.
Changes in appearance are devastating, as are the physical limitations that come with aging. But it's not just decline that's a problem; it's also loss that matters. As we age, we lose beloved family members, friends, neighbors, work colleagues, and ultimately our independence.
The best advice I ever received about how to age gracefully came from my gynecologist. We discussed the subject about 15 years ago when I was nearing retirement age. She said,
Don't get fat.
Exercise, exercise, exercise.
Make friends with people younger than you.
My suggestion is to fight it with grace and tenacity.
Victoria Hudes Cavaseno
Brookline, Massachusetts
To the Editor:
Charles Blow's lament that “nobody really tells us how we should age” is completely at odds with my experience. Barely a month goes by without me reading somewhere that we should embrace gray hair and accept physical decline along with the wisdom that old age brings.
I have welcomed my grey hair as an opportunity to achieve a lifelong dream of being a redhead, and I don't see the need for the mental struggle of “accepting” it when the muscle pain is already bad enough.
As for “gaining wisdom,” I hope to remain wise enough to realize that trying to find a silver lining in the problems of old age is simply not for me.
Felicia Nimue Ackerman
Providence, Rhode Island
To the Editor:
I read with interest Charles Blow's column on aging, but at age 88, I'd like to offer a different perspective. Blow may be 53 and think about aging, but trust me, aging is not something we “accept”; aging accepts us.
That may sound like a lot, but hear me out. I'm going to tell you what I've done to make it to age 88. Of course, there were some bumps along the way (like a full-blown cardiac arrest). After I retired from medicine, I refused to be defined by my age. I reinvented myself. I became a writer. For better or worse, it doesn't matter. It's the joy of creating that counts.
As my body has changed, so have my exercise habits. I now swim in the pool for at least an hour six days a week. My taste buds craved new things, so I asked my wife to ditch the old menu and try exciting new dishes. My mind craves excitement, so I devour books and connect with loved ones through heartfelt emails.
Aging is a gift, an opportunity to grow, learn and continue to experience life in new ways. It's about pushing against limitations and embracing the possibilities that lie ahead. So, for those of you thinking about the future, remember: don't passively accept age, but live each day to the fullest, wrinkles and all.
David S. Cantor
Los Angeles
He is the author of The Book of Health – Destroying Myths, Lies and Deceptions, Reaffirming the Truth and Achieving Perfect Health.
To the Editor:
I relate to Charles Blow's column and frequently remind myself to enjoy the moment, as he suggests.
I'm almost 72 and have two young grandsons, Brendan, 7, and Nolan, 22 months. Recently, Nolan was home sick so I looked after him. We spent the day making bugs out of Play-Doh. The smell of Play-Doh is unmistakable and it brought back memories of creating with my own daughters, now 41 and 39.
That evening, when I got home and sat down to take off my sandals, I noticed yellow Play-Doh stuck in the grooves of my shoes. As a young mother, I hated having Play-Doh all over my shoes, as well as my kids' shoes, the carpet, and their clothes.
But this time, the tears flowed. As Blow so deftly suggests, how many more times can I play like this with my grandson? How many more hours will he want to play with me? At my age, play is a gift.
I smiled inside as I dug the mud out of my shoes and savored the moment. I plan to savor and appreciate as many of these moments as I can this summer. Thank you for reminding me to be grateful for the mud on my shoes.
Kathleen Burns
Pleasant Prairie, Wisconsin
To the Editor:
In response to Charles Blow's column, we will receive many letters from us old people saying that growing old is the hardest job we will ever have. What can you do? Complain to your peers who will complain back, or do the best you can on your own knees.
Walking, with friends or alone, is the joy of my life. I go where my feet lead me. The weather can't stop me, unless it rains. During the pandemic, not many people wanted to leave the house, but I walked every day.
I'm 91 and can still walk about 2-3 miles a day. Life isn't as good as it used to be, but complaining makes it worse.
Shirley Smithburg
new york
