Coming of Age

“To me, old age is always fifteen years older than I am.

Bernard Baruch, News Reports, pg. 0

“And how would he now appear to his younger self?… Perhaps
this was one of the tragedies life plots for us; it is our destiny
to become, in old age, what in youth we have most despised.”

Julian Barnes, The Noise of Time, pg. 176

“Gregory smiled. His mother’s tendency to the enigmatic was definitely increasing. Someone who didn’t know her might have thought her mind was wandering; but Gregory knew there was always a sure point of reference, something which in her own terms made sense. Probably it just took too long to explain. Gregory wondered if this was what being old meant: everything you wanted to say required a context. If you gave the full context, people thought you a rambling old fool. If you didn’t give the context, people thought you a laconic old fool. The very old needed interpreters just as the very young did. When the old lost their companions, their friends, they also lost interpreters; they lost love, but they also lost the full power of speech.”

Julian Barnes, Staring at the Sun, pg. 158

Some people will tell you that age is just a number. And, it is that. But, as you get older and older, it becomes a bigger and bigger number— until it gets so large that they eventually count you out. But, I’m not here to dwell on the finiteness of age, nor its obvious downsides. Why? Because there are simply too many positives that we old timers have to offer: wisdom, experience, insight, continuity, longevity, wisdom — oh yeah, I already mentioned that one, so add forgetfulness…

What I intend to say about age, and particularly old age, will resonate, I think, with folks in their sixties, seventies or older. But, how can I expect to make a connection with readers of my blog who are only in their thirties or forties? I’ll get to that, but first let me point out that growing older is a process that obviously takes many years; however, a lot of people, upon arriving at an advanced age are often surprised that they reached that point so rapidly. Almost as if it happened while they were distracted or not paying attention. It’s often said that while we humans are busy making plans, life happens. Aging happens, too. My cousin John expressed it this way to me recently: “I knew I would get older, I just didn’t think it would happen this quickly.” Talk about old age creeping up on you (reminds me of a Jackie O/Aristotle Onassis joke, but never mind…) Yes, it definitely does creep up on you before you know it.

So, this is how I’d attempt to explain my response to aging in terms to which a younger person might relate: possibly, you were a fine athlete in high school and college. Not necessarily the best of the best, but pretty darn good. Or, maybe you actually were among the best of the best. You still keep yourself in good shape, work out religiously and only consume beer on weekends.

About ten years after graduation, you take part in a pick up football game at a local park with a group of high school studs. You’re keeping up, but its hard work and some of these guys are running past you at will. Not only that, but the conversation after the game gets into new music of which you’re not even aware. Oh, and by the way, a few of these dudes are pretty sharp and very funny. You’re almost jealous. See how that crept up on you? Kinda just like age does to older folks.

The interesting thing about advancing age is that even though you know intellectually you are growing older day by day, you don’t necessarily realize it or feel the impact of it until something or someone calls it to your attention. For a long time, I mostly took it for granted that I was in relatively the same age category as other men I met or worked with – even if they were 15 to 20 years younger than I. And, I kept assuming that was reality for quite awhile after it was certainly no longer true.

It was about 10 or 12 years ago when I went to Home Depot to purchase a bunch of 55-pound chimney blocks. They were needed for a retaining wall I was constructing along the creek behind my house. (I had previously purchased 80 such chimney blocks on my way to a total of 124 for the entire 30-foot long bulkhead.) Since I didn’t own a pick up truck, it was necessary to make many trips over a number of months, usually with a haul of only eight to ten blocks at a time.

One night I pushed my loaded handcart of blocks up to the checkout; the young, female cashier respectfully asked me if I would need any assistance loading the blocks in my car. I politely told her, “No thanks, I’m fine.” Halfway through the checkout process, she asked me again if I’d like some help. I was starting to get annoyed, however I said “Thanks for asking, but it’s no problem.” I’ve now paid my bill and I’m rolling my block-laden hand cart towards the exit, out to the parking lot. And, believe it or not, she asks me one more time: “Are you sure you don’t need assistance, it’s store policy” — and, the unspoken part that she doesn’t say is that if she sees an old, feeble person, then she’s required to ask a few times.

At that point, I basically lost it and yelled at her: “I’ve already purchased 80 of these friggin’ blocks from Home Depot. How do you think I got them all to the checkout and then out to my car? And, by the way, who do you think unloaded them from my car and carried them out to the back yard when I got home?” I muttered something else as I stormed out the door. Well, I didn’t actually “storm”, because I was pushing a cart with 440 pounds of blocks on it. But, in my mind, I was “storming.” So, I get it, a guy in his sixties, gray hair, even shorter at this point than the 5 ft. 8 ½ he used to be. Sure, she had to make certain that old people got help when they really needed it. But, when does appropriate concern cross over the line into becoming obnoxious and annoying, not to say insulting? I’d offer that it’s probably somewhere between the second and third time the young woman broached the subject of assistance. I’d also offer that perhaps I was overly sensitive.

So, you’re going along merrily living your life, and one day it’s called to your attention that — at least in the eyes of one young person — you’ve reached that point of no return: you’ve definitely crossed over into the region of old people. And, suddenly becoming aware of how you are being seen can often change the way you see yourself. I think Barnes captured the gist of what I’m talking about:

“You never did age instantly; you never did have a sharp memory for comparison….You grew old first not in your own eyes, but in other people’s eyes; then, slowly, you agreed with their opinion of you. It wasn’t that you couldn’t walk as far as you used to, it was that other people didn’t expect you to; and if they didn’t, then it needed vain obstinacy to persist.“

Julian Barnes, Staring at the Sun, pg. 141

And, Emerson (over 150 years ago) had already offered a somewhat similar take:

“As long as one is alone by himself, he is not sensible of the inroads of time, which always begin at the surface edges. …and if we did not find the reflection of ourselves in the eyes of young people, we could not know that the century-clock had struck seventy instead of twenty. How many men habitually believe that each chance passenger with whom they converse is of their own age.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Old Age”, The Atlantic Monthly, January, 1862

So, what can we expect to experience from the aging process? More importantly, what should each of us expect from ourselves in response to the inevitable decline of our physical and mental capabilities? Perhaps, we follow through on the idea that the way others – particularly young “others” — see us will define who we are; if so, then in effect, we will have handed over that important decision to those who certainly cannot know us as well as we know ourselves. And, we will have enabled them to set expectations for us. I personally don’t believe that you can allow too much doubt to enter into your calculations about life and aging as you move forward, or you may be setting yourself up for what I would call “negative wish fulfillment.” And, if you don’t watch out, you might end up like Julian Barnes’ character Jean:

“Her feet, with each succeeding year, seemed a little farther away from her hands; she dropped things, stumbled a little, was fearful; but mostly what she noticed was the smirking paradox of old age: how everything seemed to take longer than it used to, but how, despite this, time seemed to go faster.”

Julian Barnes, Staring at the Sun, pg. 142

And, slowly but surely, if one does not fight it ferociously every day, with word and deed, thought and action, then it will be just a matter of time before one wanders, by default, into the point of no return. Then, instead of continuing to age gracefully as a vibrant, thinking and contributing member of society, a person succumbs to playing the role they think society has reserved for them. So it was for Mr. Cavendish in David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas:

“Behold your future, Cavendish the Younger. You will not apply for membership, but the tribe of the elderly will claim you. Your present will not keep pace with the world’s. This slippage will stretch your skin, sag your skeleton, erode your hair and memory, make your skin turn opaque so your twitching organs and blue-cheese veins will be semivisible. You will venture out only in daylight, avoiding weekends and school holidays. Language, too, will leave you behind, betraying tribal affiliations whenever you speak. On escalators, on trunk roads, in supermarket aisles, the living will overtake you, incessantly. Elegant women will not see you. Store detectives will not see you. Salespeople will not see you, unless they sell stair lifts or fraudulent insurance policies. Only babies, cats and drug addicts will acknowledge your existence.”

David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas, pgs. 180-81

While I certainly don’t buy into utter resignation to age—-I do understand that in the eyes of many younger folks, older people may not seem as relevant as they once were, and so can potentially be ignored. Of course, family and young friends will always offer us the respect that our admirable life has engendered. Trying not to sound too needy, I broached the question of irrelevancy with my son Josh a few years back. He, of course, assured me that I would never be irrelevant as far as he was concerned. I know he meant that, and I’m sure his brothers would agree. But, I think it is also true that the older we get the more invisible we become to the world in general.

Through the years, there have been countless examples in literature advocating not only for a stern defense against the onset of age, but a fierce battle to indeed remain relevant. From Robert Graves:

“Grey haunted eyes, absentmindedly glaring… forehead wrinkled and high; …He still stands ready, with a boy’s prescription, to court the queen in her high silk pavilion.”

to Thomas Hardy:

“I look into my glass and view my wasting skin, and say ‘Would God it came to pass my heart had shrunk as thin.’ …And shakes this fragile frame at eve with throbbings of noontide.”

to Robert Browning:

“Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be.”

to Dylan Thomas:

“Do not go gentle into that good night. Old age should burn and rave at close of day; rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

Which, finally, brings me to Tennyson’s Ulysses. As I have in several of my essays, I want to credit my cousin John with invaluable insights he has graciously shared with me. Here is what he had to say about Ulysses’ response to the challenges facing him as a once-formidable warrior now considered past his prime:

“Ulysses is an old man looking back over his life. He ‘stove with gods’ and ‘moved heaven and earth.’ Now however, he realizes, with dismay and depression, that the younger generation hardly know who he is or what he has done. He is not ready to give up or be turned out to pasture. He does not want ‘to rust unburnished’ but to shine in use. He wants one more great adventure, something equal to his heroic past, before he dies.

John Sena, 9/23/20

And, of course, the well-known last line in Tennyson’s poem reads; “To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.” So, I’m throwing in my lot with Graves, Hardy, Browning and Thomas. And, absolutely with Tennyson’s Ulysses. Do I feel the additional aches and pains? Yes. Can I still do all of the things that I used to do when I was younger? Of course not. But, I for one, am not ready to be turned out to pasture either. And, while I have certainly not had an “heroic past”, I am enthusiastically looking forward to one more “great adventure,” at the very least.

Physical and mental health are key components to the longevity — and the quality — of our lives. All things being equal, eating properly, exercising and mental stimulation can have a profound effect. And, I’ll toss one additional element into the mix: attitude. I think that a little bit of attitude goes a long way. Ah, “attitude.” Very important in the scheme of things IMHO. I understand that everyone can’t come from New Jersey. Some of us have just been blessed that way. But, where I come from, we don’t say we have AN attitude, we just have attitude, plain and simple. It boils down to not having much patience for beating around the bush; we just want to get things done. A phrase I first heard in business in the 1980’s: “If you going to lead, then lead; if you’re going to follow, then follow; otherwise, get the hell out of the way.”

I’ve always said that my middle name should have been “annoyed”, because I’ve never been able to deal with the bullshit. So, in my book, a little healthy impatience never hurt anyone. And, I think perhaps it can actually be beneficial.

Finally, I’d suggest that in addition to leading your life in a healthy and positive way, it’s probably good not only to expect respect from your fellow human beings, but to demand it. To me, it means that you’re alive and well, still passionate about life and that you feel good about who you are. And, I think that’s a plus, particularly if you’re older. For now, I’ll leave you with a meme I’ve been repeating since at least my 60^th birthday: “You’re only young once, but you can be immature forever.”