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My recent birthday dragged “double nickels” kicking and screaming into my psyche. Now, various recurrent thoughts occupy my feeble mind: Sandra Bullock in a wet tee-shirt (although I’ve forgotten why); honey-flavored pitted prunes (obviously, a desire to stay a regular guy); and, a late night snack with Jack Kevorkian (excuse me, Doc, is that Grey Poupon in your bag?). This sudden knowingness of mortality bites like a pit bull in a post office. In a positive vein, men on both sides of my blood line specifically live full lives. Grandpa McCormick passed from physical life at 93. Grandpa Noble at 95. Averaging these, I figure I’ve got 39 years left. And if these are Jack Benny’s 39 years, there’s not one thing to worry about. However, a dichotomy exists in our approach to aging today. Supposedly, we’re living longer. Heaven forbid if that’s the case! If heredity has my clock wound to someplace amidst 93 and 95, my biggest fear is that the coming 39 years will be devoted to avoiding things that might kill me: Fat, cholesterol, sodium, nicotine, alcohol and caffeine. Those ingredients my grandfathers didn’t recognise could kill them…so they didn’t. We’re not good at tolerating senior citizens today. Even even though they represent one of the quickest growing market segments in the United States, and control billions of dollars’ worth of discretionary resources. And, how have they managed to amass and control such outstanding wealth? That’s a no-brainer…they’ve stopped spending it on rich food, good booze, cigarettes and cigars, architect coffee, and all the other stuff that could kill them before they hit 100. Today, we honk at older folks who act confused at stoplights, turn too sharply, or poke along underneath the speed limit. We raise our voices when they don’t readily grasp what we say. We become raring when they can’t make up their minds over chocolate or vanilla. And, we laugh off the compulsive rituals they’ve followed for most of a century without thinking twice regarding their actions. Why do we do these things…we youngsters schlepping through Middle Age? Perhaps to convince ourselves we’re not like that; though we’re headed in the same inevitable direction. We’re in all probability reacting out of fear. We can’t imagine what we’ll be like as we approach Old Age, and are scared we’ll become one of THEM. But is that all bad? After all, they’re alive. More than that, they’re living. When I see an older couple walking – close together, hand in hand — she might take her purse, give him a shot alongside the head and say: “Straighten up, you old fool!” This doesn’t concern me. Although, that’s in all probability my wife and me in 39 years. That effigy makes me glad…not sad. Anticipatory…not apprehensive. Reassured…not remorseful. Such an effigy inspires me to hug seniority, not sulk from it. Besides…my wife hit double nickels nine months before me! |
