NOTES FROM THE 8TH DECADE #5

THE TIMER IS RUNNING

December 2009

As one would imagine, I have been pondering the significance of being seventy years old since my 69th birthday last year.  Turning seventy has some emotional significance that was not there during the decade of the sixties.  Seventy sounds so much older than sixty-nine and conjures images in my mind of men with white hair and thick white mustaches, walking slightly bent forward, wearing a button down sweater and lace-less shoes. Shamelessly I have found comfort in hearing from friends and family that I do not look seventy, or in their surprise when I tell them my age...”I never would have guessed”, or “are you kidding me?”

I imagine that all who have had the good fortune to reach this milestone shares these thoughts.  Observations on turning seventy are as varied as the folks who offer them, from embracing their age and rejoicing in its advantages, to rebelling against it and bemoaning lost youth. I see and understand both points of view. There is indeed a sense of freedom that accompanies age, as well as a feeling of relief from having navigated all the years with reasonable success. For me, that offsets the loss of physical capacity as well as the enthusiasm and nativity of youth. 

But more than anything else, positive or negative, what resonates the most is the threat to the “some days” that have been so much a part of my life. Those some days were my fall back, my promises to myself; they were there to keep my dreams alive. They are not completely gone, but their expanse, their range, has been severely narrowed by knowing that most of my years are now behind me and that the once unlimited future has become both limited and vulnerable. Mentally I have been processing all of this for several years, but that magical number, seventy, seems to have crystallized these notions into a simple, concrete concept, the timer has been set. It is on and running, and I don’t know where it has been set to turn off, 6 months, 6 years, or 20 plus years. Of course the same can be said for all of us, regardless of age, but few of us pay any attention to it until we reach a certain age, which for me appears to be seventy.

NOTES FROM THE 8TH DECADE #4

THE PAST IS ALWAYS WITH US, AND THE FUTURE IS NOT FAR BEHIND

 8-09

Good grief! Who knew that turning 70 would provide so many issues to deal with (and write about). I will be lucky if I can get all the emotional and psychological stuff cleared away before I reach 80.

Maybe when I’m 80, 70-year old women will be more appealing.

I have 9 months left in which to milk this 70th birthday. No one gives a shit about 71!

I’m 70 years old and rarely does a day go by that I don’t think about my mother and father. Oh how I would love to go back into time and reclaim those years that I took for granted. With the wisdom of the retrospectoscope I realize how precious and special they were. But of course that is what the years bring to us, the wisdom to appreciate that which is has past: family, friends, community, and perhaps greatest of all, freedom from responsibility. My childhood was wonderful and glorious because my parents carried the burden of responsibilities for me, for themselves, my grandfather, and the farm. I realize now, that for them, those years were tough and trying, and that they protected me from their struggles.             

I cannot help but feel some f guilt for not realizing this sooner, but mostly I feel gratitude, gratitude to them for being the parents that they were and giving to me all that they did.  I imagine they knew that my turn to shoulder responsibility would come soon enough.

NOTES FROM THE 8TH DECADE #3 The Heaviness of Years

April 2009

Last night listening to folk music from the early 60’s I was immediately transported back to my college years (1957-1961) and how time has transformed my psyche. The phrase, the heaviness of years, came immediately to mind and has been with me ever since. And, as I am inclined to do, I began exploring this idea in my journal. I thought about how age tends to diminish ambitions, aspirations, and willingness to take risks, and encourages distrust and suspicion of anything new. And if that’s not enough, it promotes a growing reliance on daily routine, confusion over an evolving youth culture, and uncertainty over the extent of our personal future. How depressing!

But even as I was writing this bleak scenario of aging, which carries a modicum of truth, I realized it was only one side of the coin; there is an equally compelling argument to make for the benefit of age. The weight of the years is well balanced.

The uncertainty of the future - I have difficulty dealing with the loss of the “some days” of my youth. As a younger man I could cling to the notion that someday my dreams would come true, and my goals achieved. The future was limitless. At some point in my mid 60s that began to change, the future was narrowing and the “some days” began to diminish. Disastrous? Perhaps, but there is another way to look at this. With a diminishing and uncertain future, one is forced to focus on the present. For someone who tends to spend too much time thinking about the tomorrows, this is a positive step. With each birthday I move one year closer to learning to live in and appreciate my “todays". In the end, it is the journey, and not the destination that matters.

Following the dream and taking risks - I know something about this. At age 39 I decided to leave my medical practice and work part time in an emergency room so I could pursue a career in art (I had no formal training). At age 53 I opened a medical practice in a converted barn on our farm, and at age 62 moved 950 miles away from family and friends to Paducah Kentucky to sign up for their artist relocation program. I made each of these decisions, and many others, without fear or trepidation because I was confident that they were the steps intended for me. I knew that as much as one can know something.

But now, six years later, when I think about these moves I wonder, could I do that today? Does our spirit respond to age the way our bones and joints do? Does it tend to get a little slow and more inclined to remain comfortable and secure rather than jump ahead into the unknown? Those decisions were made with the security of the “some days” to fall back on if needed, “some days” that become more elusive with the passing years.

Although taking risks to pursue dreams become more difficult and perhaps more stressful, the years provide us with a new resource…experience. And if we pay attention it’s possible to convert that to wisdom. Together they can help guide us through the transitions and changes faced in these later years. We are better equipped to assess risks and have a more realistic notion of the consequences of our actions. Perhaps my spirit and my personal aspirations have been buffered a bit by the years, but they remain intact, and I pursue them a bit slower, with deliberation and determination that these same years have provided.