The Aging Thing
2019
Last month I celebrated my 70th birthday. I don't really feel my age.
Oh, yes - some aches, pains, body parts wearing out and the overwhelming need to nap.
Who am kidding? I've always been a napper but now I have an excuse. I seem to be able to tolerate life in a way my parents could not. They aged hard and fast. Maybe that's the difference. At about 25 my life changed and I moved ahead and loved whatever I was up to. My folks worked all the time . Finally , near the end for both of them, they enjoyed life. What a shame to wait that long -
To postpone living happily.
To postpone living happily.
My grandmother, dear heart, became elderly early in life. Maybe the cause was farm living before moving to the city.
She always moved slowly. Did everything with care. She read so much, every day. The mail, the Morning Sun and The Evening Sun and kept a stack of library books in the living room. No rush or urgency to get to the editorial page or the patterns and recipes in the “Society pages”.
Each page patiently perused.
Slow and deliberate ,even in the garden. Removing faded blossoms delicately. Searching the underside of plants, carefully, for signs of invasions by bugs, mold or some mysterious botanical mayhem. Slowly standing and straightening her body, tools in her apron pocket she walked back to the cellar door and stepped out of her outside shoes.
I see her so clearly.
She always moved slowly. Did everything with care. She read so much, every day. The mail, the Morning Sun and The Evening Sun and kept a stack of library books in the living room. No rush or urgency to get to the editorial page or the patterns and recipes in the “Society pages”.
Each page patiently perused.
Slow and deliberate ,even in the garden. Removing faded blossoms delicately. Searching the underside of plants, carefully, for signs of invasions by bugs, mold or some mysterious botanical mayhem. Slowly standing and straightening her body, tools in her apron pocket she walked back to the cellar door and stepped out of her outside shoes.
I see her so clearly.
My family seems to think that my husband, aka Tarzan, is as spritely and active as all 30 somethings .
He serves as their champion and cheerleader in all things active.
He rides a stationary bike, does yoga, plays tennis and golf and is, annoyingly, fit.
He follows the example set by his father who was active and strong until his late 80’s.
My mother was a walker. That’s because she didn’t drive. She walked to catch a bus or the subway.
Took on the hills of Staten Island with ease and strolled the beaches in Cape May for hours.
She would roller skate with me when she was in her forties.
When we moved from NYC to Cape May, New Jersey and the transportation system was minimal, she got herself a three wheeler. But because she was a walker and she stayed active, lugging groceries or traipsing back and forth to the local fire house for bingo ,she had strong legs and was peppy until her 70’s when all sorts of things started to go wrong. She certainly felt her age then. Old age hit her hard.
My dad had so many ailments, I couldn’t keep up with them. A hard drinker for many years his body, by his 50’s ,had given out, his liver rebelled .
In my mind I still see him as a slim, strong ,handsome sailor.
So next month,2020, I will be 71. I am looking forward to it. Not kidding.
