Someone I know very well, someone a few years older than I
am, often tells young, vital humans “don’t get old.” Great advice if the
alternative weren’t so dire. He also
likes to warn those who have yet to experience the downside of advancing age
about all those things that begin to go wrong — The end of endurance, the
forgetfulness, the diminishing power of the senses, etc. “They need to know,” he says. He means well. He wants to warn them. It’s a slippery road ahead. So much of it
surprised him and he’s pissed off no one told him what to expect, dangerous
curves and soft shoulders being what they are.
If he wasn’t told, it was and is an observable phenomenon if
only we would pay attention. If we want to pay attention, that is. I don’t think that at 25 we wanted to be
warned. We simply refuse to register the
signs of aging that are always around us and applying those observations to our
own lives, especially when we are in our twenties going about our business,
bouncing off our hormones and then trying to live up to the promises we made
when we sought a mate and possibly mated and created a few future old people. And
then…and then… after the career pressure
lessens, we slow down and start noticing things. A little soreness in our
knees, maybe. Some reading specs for the tiny print on prescription containers. If you are under forty and would prefer to
keep your likely future a surprise, you may wish to Google Disneyland or rent Cocoon.
Things That Happen
When You Get Old
You drop things. This
leads to frustration and you do not pick up whatever you dropped until you drop
something else in roughly the same place.
Eventually it leads to piles of clutter that must be kicked off the main
paths of your domicile. Clear passage to the bathroom is essential.
You realize that the greatest invention of all time isn’t
the printing press. Forget what you learned on “Jeopardy.” The answer is “What
are scissors, Alex?” Scissors are the
greatest invention of mankind. Rubber bands come in second. Canes, though we
try to avoid them for as long as we can, are third.
You watch “Jeopardy.”
Because you’re old, you sometimes get preferential treatment
and that makes you angry. And sometimes
you don’t get preferential treatment, and that makes you angry.
You are often invisible until your less than speedy pace
slows down the more energetic of the species. Those who pass you give off an
ephemerally hateful vibe you silently scream at them: “May you spend an eternity in Galapagos!”
You discover that all of nature’s creatures are more alike
than we thought. Just like whales, you have
all sorts of strange growths that appear on your body. Kind of like barnacles. Those
that are visible fascinate and frighten children. Also, you lose a lot of hair, but the hair now
grows in strange places and really fast.
You drift off just as that story you really wanted to see
comes on the News Hour, and you wake
up when it’s over. “Back to you, Gwen.”
You find out you have made it on every telemarketer’s
favorite call list. And somehow they know all about you, especially how old you
are. They call you by name. They seem
genuinely interested in your life and happiness until you realize that you are
engaged with a computer endowed with a low-level of artificial intelligence. They continue to talk despite that fact you
yell at them with the worst words your faulty, little mind will come up with.
You strangle the phone only to discover you have reset the date and time and
you don’t know how to fix it. Poetic, isn’t it? Upset, you connect to the blood
pressure machine and learn you should be dead. It doesn’t matter. It will all
happen again tomorrow. The telemarketers
call several times, usually when you are in the shower, have something in a
frying pan or while you are dreaming of your, happier younger self during an
unscheduled but always welcomed nap.
When you go to the store to buy one thing, you come home
with three things, none of them the thing you went to the store to get.
You believe someone is sneaking in when you aren’t looking.
They hide the remote, the telephone and the scissors.
You occasionally answer the remote.
You find the phone when the telemarketer calls. She asks for
your social security number because she wants to make sure it’s secure and no
one is taking advantage of you.
You look at other old people and ask yourself if you look
that old!
On the other hand, there are many wonderful things that
happen as you age. I wrote them down on
a piece of paper. It’s here some place.
It couldn’t have gone anywhere. Maybe the person who steals my scissors….
4 comments:
All too dang true.
I'll never worry about you. Your wits--and there are many of them--are all about you. Thanks for your astute observations.
So I'm right at the cut off, I'm 38. I read your commentary anyway. Um, if that's what getting old is like I'm well prepared. Getting old sounds very much like raising 3 children.
Scissors, tape and remotes are transient. And things constantly show up in the shopping cart that I'm pretty sure I didn't put there, but no one else seems to claim them. There is a certain irony about actually birthing the person who steals the scissors.
Thank you for you all for your comments. The thing about living with other people is that you can always blame them – cats or kids. Me, I am thinking about creating more imaginary friends.
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