PERSPECTIVES ON AGING

"I yam what I yam & that's all what I am, I'm Popeye the Sailor Man.

I'm strong to the finich, 'cause I eats my spinach, I'm Popeye the Sailor Man!"

Those of you who are around my age might remember the old "Popeye, the Sailor Man" cartoons from the 50s & 60s or earlier (if not, you can just go ahead & think I'm a little off my rocker - which I am). For some reason that old song that Popeye always sang after he ate his can of spinach & made short order of the bad guys has always stuck in my head. The whole thing was completely politically incorrect but most things were back then.

This evening it was the "I yam what I yam" part that had my mind spinning in regards to my "Thoughts on Aging" blog post last week. I heard from a lot of you - mostly women - in response to that blog who were feeling the same things. Apparently, there is quite a camaraderie between all of us old folks as we make our way through senior citizenship.

I so much want to be okay with the years adding up, with a few extra pounds & with some more wrinkles. I want to say to myself, "I am what I am", AND, here's the trick, really believe it. Our world is so geared to youth & vitality & wanting to look like a super model - not that I ever did but somewhere inside, I felt it. Years ago I recall Tyra Banks on a campaign to stop the unrealistic goals of young girls & women saying, "They think everyone should look like Tyra Banks. Hell, most of the time I don't even look like Tyra Banks."

My hope is that all of us "fourth quarter women" can truly say "I am what I am" & be proud of the fact that every ache, every pain, every wrinkle, every pound, every gray hair, every year was born of a lot of life well lived & a ton of people well loved.

My Charley doesn't care if Gaga has an extra roll or two around her middle when we snuggle up under a blanket to watch TV or read. She doesn't think twice if the selfie we take shows Gaga's wrinkles under her chin. She cares about the love & comfort & safety she feels with Gaga's arms around her.

My Darrin doesn't care that his mom has most definitely turned into a grandma over the years - at least I don't think he does. He cares that I am there for him unconditionally, always, for anything. He posted some wonderful Mother's Day thoughts & photos on my Facebook page which warmed my heart more than he knows, reinforced my beliefs & made me cry. If you haven't seen them, check out my Facebook. 

My Lou would love it if I wasn't turning into an old lady before his eyes but I hope that he, too, accepts that time does indeed take its toll on each one of us. He still gives me heartfelt cards for every occasion & tells me he loves me daily after almost 16 years together. Sharing a history with each other is what matters.

The point I want to make is that I believe each of these three most precious people in my life love me for who I am on the inside, not the outside. I can't control the outside or the passing of time, but I can control the caring & loving from the inside. As I've aged I think my capacity to love has increased tremendously. Grandchildren give you a perspective on unconditional love & aging that nothing else can.

As time ticks by, I will do my best to embrace every single sign of aging - wrinkles, aches, pounds, gray hair - because although it may all show on the exterior, on the inside I still feel young, vital & thrilled to be a part of this wonderful life. Somewhere inside there remains a fucking amazing super model that is grinning from ear to ear & thinking, "Eat your heart out Tyra Banks! You aint' got nothing on me, girl. I yam what I yam!"

THOUGHTS ON AGING

This was actually written three days ago but I will leave it as it was when I typed these words that evening.

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I am feeling old tonight & let me tell you, it is not a lot of fun. I am 67 years old. It seems that in the past I could always justify the fact that my current age wasn’t really that old. When you are 45, it’s easy to say, hell, I’m only halfway through this life. Or when you are 50, everything still seems to work okay & you can do most things - & you still look pretty damn good in a bathing suit. Even 55 doesn’t seem all that old. But, son of a bitch, there is no way to convince yourself that 67 isn’t THAT old. Shit, I’m already seven years older than my mother when she passed away.

Tonight's melancholy was brought on by the death of an old friend of forty plus years from my skydiving days. Dave & I had reconnected a little over a year ago via Facebook & email. Like me (& most people our age), Dave didn’t sleep worth a damn. Many nights we would exchange emails in the wee hours of the morning. Dave was in his early 70s & I knew he was battling cancer.

Lou & I took a road trip to Virginia City, Nevada, about two hours away, & spent the day with Dave & his wife last October. It was a great visit & brought back lots of good memories for me. While undergoing chemo, his emails got shorter & less frequent. Dave was always a happy-go-lucky guy so I suspected that things weren’t going well. I found out tonight that he passed away.

My dad always says that all his friends have died. I’ll be damned if that isn’t starting for me now. Dave is the fourth skydiving friend who has died this past year! And three of them were either my age or just a few years older.

As always my mind tends to have a mind of its own. Once the loop starts going around in my brain, I can’t stop it. Things like realizing that in 20 years I will be 87 make me head to the kitchen for another glass of wine! Twenty years is not very long. Charley will be 25 & Darrin will be 61. Those things just boggle my mind. And, of course, that is assuming that I make it well into my 80s. Time is running out. I've heard the analogy comparing a life time to the four quarters of a football game. I am definitely in the fourth quarter of the game.

Looking at my dad’s health at age 88 or Lou’s dad at age 92 & it really hits home at how limited I will likely be in 20 years. Seeing how much Bruni declined before her passing last December at age 89, makes me wonder how many “good” years I’ve got left. And that scares the shit out of me. Where did these 67 years go? I vividly recall the birth of my son 41 years ago when I was a mere 26 year old. Then I wake up one morning & I am 67 years old. How does that happen?

Lately I feel every bit of my age, too. My feet have hurt all the time for years. Chiropractors, acupuncturists, podiatrists & regular doctors haven’t helped. My shoulder has been really sore lately & I didn’t do anything to hurt it. Strange things grow on me. Weight will not go away without starving myself. If I turn my arm a certain way, there are a hundred little wrinkles. And when I look in the mirror, I see my grandmother.

On our recent trip to Washington, DC, we did a ton of walking. It’s been several days & I am still feeling the effects of really sore feet & legs. Even my “younger guy” (by five years) commented that he never used to be bothered by walking miles on a trip but now days that is not the case. Trading foot massages is now a normal part of our vacations. As long as we can still do it (& survive the long plane rides), we will keep on keeping on. But I know that someday, we just won’t be able to handle it anymore. 

In the meantime, I’ll do my best to keep up with Charley & hope that the ravages of time can be held at bay awhile longer. Charley is definitely the best antidote to aging. Lou & I plan to travel as much & as often as possible starting with our next journey to Iceland, Greenland & Norway in August.

The quote “Getting old ain’t for sissies!”, has been attributed to Bette Davis but I'm not sure it has been substantiated. Whoever said it was damn right! BUT it still beats the hell out of the alternative!