Defying Gravity

When I was younger I often wondered why the expression on the wrinkled faces of most old people seems to have settled into one of perpetual anger. They just look really pissed off all the time. I wonder if it’s just the natural effects of gravity pulling aging facial flesh downward or a true reflection of how it feels to be elderly – and by the way what exactly is the age when you can be called elderly? Is it the next step after becoming a senior? You know you’re a senior when you become eligible for all those senior discounts at movie theaters and museums. How do you know when you should count yourself one of the elderly? Perhaps it will be the day one of  those scruffy little twinks who work at Trader Joe's escorts you to the front of the line carrying your basket. I saw that happen twice this morning. Both of the them were women who I would definitely consider elderly. They even had canes. What if I took a cane when I went shopping? Would they let me skip the line? Would that be cheating? My knee did ache a little this morning. Am I ready to be considered elderly even though it’s just to cut the line? Probably not.

Of course now that I’m an old man myself now, I understand that getting old sucks and there’s a lot to be pissed off about. While it’s a wonderful thing to save a couple of bucks at the movies and gloat about it to my fifty-something companion, there ain’t a lot to be happy about getting old. Your body starts failing you in so many ways you hadn’t counted on. I’ve been really trying hard to keep calm and carry on and comfort myself with the fact that there are many my age in much worse shape. In the end though, gravity and nature will take their course and a face that reminds you of an old black and white photo of your great grandfather will stare back at you from the mirror. Plus other signs catch you a little off guard, like younger friends and siblings becoming grandparents. These are all things you knew were coming, but the reality of it actually happening kind of bursts the mortality denial bubble you’ve nurtured since you turned forty, – with a very loud wet popping sound. Wait. No. That was just the sound my knees make every time I stand up.  

Nothing makes you face the realities of aging like taking care of an aging parent for a while like I did last October. Mom’s 92 and she’s definitely elderly and definitely pissed off about it. All of her younger friends in their 70’s and 80’s go on and on about how incredibly fit my mom is, which she is, for someone her age, but I think she’s beginning to get tired of living up to their expectations. There are so many things she just can’t do anymore and while she seems to be accepting it gracefully most of the time, there were dark moments when I think she would have just liked to say goodbye and go on to the next thing, which of course for her is death. She’s a church-goer but more for the social aspects than the religion. She’s not really a believer in all the mystical afterlife crap. We had some nice chats about that and other things concerning her end-of-life wishes and plans. A lot of our conversations were death related. I think she was surprised that I could relate to her experience of having so many close friends die before her. Watching your friends die in your 80’s and 90's is just as unpleasant as seeing them waste away in your 30’s. We bonded over death stories. In a strange way I think it cheered her up a bit. 

Of course there are a few advantages to being old beyond the senior discounts. I can play the cranky old man card any time I don’t feel like doing something or make fun of stuff with a very special “don’t give shit” attitude that only old men can get away with. This is especially useful whenever I find myself interacting with the young folks. Sometimes when I find myself at some sort of function and have managed to engage some cute young thing who is polite enough to pretend to be interested in listening to me talk, I always enjoy going on about how much fun it was to be a twenty-something in the wild and crazy 1970’s New York and how sorry I feel for all you puppies who were born too late to have been there. I’m actually surprised by how easily some of the gen-X’s, Y’s and Millennials fall for this crap. In any case it gives me more close up ogling time. Of course the truth is that I would sell my soul to the devil to trade that ogling time for some hands on fondling time. The awful truth of Mr. Shaw’s axiom about youth being wasted on the young becomes all too real to us seniors – while I’m telling some puppy about the wild and crazy 70’s, I’d really rather be using my tongue to demonstrate exactly how we had fun back in the good old days. But I digress.

As Elaine Stritch said in her one woman show “Gettin’ old ain’t for sissies.” This old sissy, however has no choice. I’m old and I’m going to get older. If my Mom’s genes are any indication, I could stretch this out another 30 years or maybe check-out time is just around the corner. Who knows? All I can do is keep moving and try to make it the least not fun as possible, keep the grumpiness to a minimum and in defiance of gravity look for many things to smile about.