Holding back time
Looking for a little guidance and inspiration as 50 approaches
“Don’t get old,” my friend said tongue-in-cheek.
She was lamenting how everything took longer as she aged.
She smiled and added, “It sure beats the alternative though.”
I smiled too because this topic of age has been on my mind lately. I’ve started paying more attention to older people and articles on aging. I’m getting very close to 50 and I’ll admit, I’m getting a little nervous.
Where is the video for this? I felt this same way when I was 11 and there was a special day at school where we watched a film about what was about to happen to our bodies. Yes, I was grossed out but I felt more prepared. And here I am on the precipice of many changes and wondering where the video is. How can I get prepared? Where can I find other apprehensive lifechangers? I guess this aging thing is an independent study. I read a piece in the New York Times called “The Wisdom of the Aged” and although I picked up a few pointers, it wasn’t what I needed. I almost heard wisdom as I leaned in close to the story but not quite.
The article seemed heavy on the misery, pain, and struggle of old age. That can’t be right, I thought. It followed the lives of an assortment of older citizens and I found myself searching through them for role models for this next phase in my life.
One gentleman, Mr. Jones, had a particularly buoyant spirit. He spoke of waking up every morning and thanking God for another day. Another gentleman, Mr. Mekas, made me realize that being a writer might be a good vocational choice going into old age. At 92, Mekas is a creative spirit who recently had an exhibition of his films and photographs in Italy.
In the article, he says, “I know we are all limited, and at some point our work ends, but you don’t think about it … I just do, and I know if I do something that is good for humanity, there will be somebody else who will pick up from the point where I leave it.”
I did not, however, find the article very gender-hopeful. The author described an older woman’s namby pamby behavior as wisdom. The woman was in love with a man at the center where she lived and wanted to marry him, but to appease her daughter she would go
back and forth about the decision.
Heck no! I thought. Old age is for feistiness and spirit, right?
Couldn’t relate
So I turned to another article for guidance. This article, “The Art of Aging,” was written by Julianna Baggott. In the article, Baggott must come to grips with her aging body when her daughter decides to make a sculpture inspired by her mother.
While I appreciate the author’s candor, I couldn’t relate to her life, which involved a two-week business trip to L.A. where she wore expensive jeans and Fly London boots “trying to look vaguely hip, if not youthful.”
Although Baggott finds some peace when she sees the sculpture, I threw the magazine down in disgust.
How many of us will be immortalized in a work of art? At the moment, I’m not planning any whirlwind trips to L.A., don’t possess anything remotely hip in my wardrobe, and don’t have an artist daughter.
No budding artists who want to memorialize my “beauty” on the horizon.
Hip or just me?
Recently, I quit a dead-end job to devote myself more to my freelance writing and returning to school for a master’s degree.
It seemed like the right thing to do, but I still have to pay the bills. So I got a job as a cocktail server, hoping the flexibility might allow me to focus on my goals.
After the first day, I was struck by something obvious. I wasn’t young anymore. I’m 47 and the other servers are in their 20s. Do I try to be hip or just be me?
I’ve gone with “just me” which is a weird cross between June Cleaver and sexy librarian.
The whole dilemma sent me into a tailspin of all the superficial aspects of aging I was trying to avoid.
Do I need to wear slimming pantyhose or can I wear something more comfortable? Do I need to lose weight? Should I dye my hair as the gray streams in or count on the lack of light in the bar?
What outfits are appropriate for a woman my age? Daisy Duke shorts are not an option after four kids. How do I look attractive without being trashy? What the hell was I thinking when I took the job?
Underneath, I have this uncomfortable feeling that I shouldn’t be worried about age and appearance anymore.
Yet this trying to fit in hasn’t left me, from elementary school to mid-life. This worry about my body still haunts me at moments like this.
Close to home
I’ve been thinking, though, that I’ve missed a lot of the lessons on aging while scouring popular culture or my mirror. Maybe the answers are closer than I think. Looking at the people in my life provides more wisdom.
I think of a professor friend, Kathy, in her 60s, who stopped dyeing her gray hair a decade ago and wore a sassy, short cut and took up yoga. Or a famous writer acquaintance in her 70s, Pat, whose passion inspired me. She was kind to a stranger (me) who asked her to lunch and shared her story with me, truly giving back.
I think of my friend, Della, who is in her 60s but always seems younger with her spirited, laughing nature. She recently completed her master’s degree in counseling, embarking on a new career. I think of my stepfather, Les, who is 79 and still works part-time. Or my neighbor, Melanie, who in her 70s is disciplined like a prize fighter, making sure she regularly swims, hikes, reads, prays and works.
I think of another neighbor well into his 70s, Mr. Adarve, who had a keen intellect and kept a notebook and recorded one new thing he learned daily. Or a friend, Pastor Jim, who in his 80s walked three miles a day, prayed continually and served the community wholeheartedly.
I’m not sure I have the answers yet but I’ll keep observing. And I’ll jot down the wisdom I take in. Aging gracefully doesn’t have much to do with appearances. Pretty simple actually. Thank God every day, keep moving, focus on the present, pray, do good.
If all else fails, I can find some humor from one of my favorite scenes in “Fried Green Tomatoes.”
As the main character, Evelyn, is dealing with aging, some young girls in a sporty car swerve obnoxiously in front of her car and take her parking space. Something boils over in her when one of the girls snidely says, “Face it, lady, we’re younger and faster.”
Evelyn murmurs “Towanda” and proceeds to slam into their car repeatedly. Hearing the noise, they come out shocked and angry. Evelyn coolly retorts, “Face it, girls, I’m older and I have more insurance.”
Evelyn found her voice and power as she aged.
Maybe I’ll skip the road rage but I’ll keep the fighting spirit as I journey into this new stage of life: “Face it, world, I’m older and that’s OK! Towanda!”