Lessons on aging

It has often been said that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. A modern version of that insight, often seen recently, is that an elderly man is not going to change his mind, or words to that effect. Well, maybe yes and maybe no. In both cases. I’ve been an elderly man for a good while now, and not only am I willing to learn new things, I have been forced to do so. Aging teaches you, whether you’re ready or not. I hereby pass on some of the things I’ve learned about aging.

You appear older to others than you do to yourself. After all, others can’t turn the face just so in the mirror, lean forward to take some of the wrinkles out of the neck, and smile without squinting. More to the point, others’ view of you is not colored by the memory of how you looked over the years as time was wearing you down. Give up. You look old.

If you’re out walking, don’t put your hands in your pockets. When you fall, it helps to have your hands ready to absorb some of the impact. A broken arm is better than a broken head. A broken hip is in a category of its own, and my only advice for that is don’t.

Don’t be startled when you glance in a store window and see that white-haired apparition right behind you. You’re not being attacked by an aged assailant. It’s just you. And that elderly fellow holding a door open for you a few feet away? Let him. Grit your teeth when he calls you “sir,” and pretend to smile. And when he, or anyone, offers help, take it if you can use the help. That’s good for you and the giver. As long as givers don’t dilute your own ability to take care of yourself.

You may find yourself spending a lot of time wondering how the years melted away so quickly. Don’t waste your time. They just do. I tried figuring it out. Pointless.

I’ve learned that my aging sense of humor is often out of sync with today’s world. You may have gathered that by reading my puny efforts above, where I tried to smile while telling the truth. It’s good to look for humor as time flies by, and to suck it out of the atmosphere if you can, even if others don’t find it funny when you write about it, for there’s plenty of sadness that needs counterbalancing. The ring of relationships that you’ve depended upon all your life is shrinking and will continue to do so with increasing speed, unless you shrink first.

From the time I married, my retreat and my source of renewal was my home and family, wherever we were located. But there was an outer band that was also a source of strength. Not too many years ago, I could go back to the place where I was born and visit my mother, my siblings, other relatives. Today, while there are distant cousins there, they are too young. I never knew them. The only remaining member there of my outer band of support is my 95-year-old brother-in-law.

I’m still willing to learn new things. I may yet learn something new and exciting about growing older. I can’t imagine what that might be, but you can be sure I’ll write about it for your edification if and when it happens.

This story was originally published January 26, 2018 at 4:15 PM with the headline "Lessons on aging."