Aging

50 is the new 40 and 70 is the new 60 and 90 is the new 80. Does that mean dead is the new hanging in there? 

As a dyed in the wool baby boomer I am, of course, contemplating my own aging. I approach 60 with more curiosity and less fear than the last ten-year milestone. Thirty was not even an issue (I always thought the line about never trusting anyone over 30 was narcissistic, not to mention stupid.) I had more problems with 39 than 40. Don’t know why, didn’t have a clue then and don’t now. 50 was a problem. I knew that physically and mentally things start to unravel at a little faster pace beginning in your early 50’s. I had lost my brother the previous November and my sister two days after turning 50. I didn’t like turning 50 – hated it in fact - and it depressed me for quite a while, more before than after the event. 

As 60 gets closer I think I am a bit more accepting of aging, the gradual decline in abilities, and inevitably death. I don’t say this morbidly or even fatalistically. I just see it as a natural process. It happens, and it happens with or without my cooperation and acceptance. So fighting the idea of it just doesn’t make sense. I am curious as to how I will go through it. Over some of it I have no control. Nobody, after all, gets off this rock alive. Yet I am able to influence events to a great degree, perhaps not much less so than at any time earlier in life. 

Attitude is everything. Simply put, if I dread my aging, my aging will be dreadful. I’ve tended to make comments about how old I am and how old I feel and how old I’m getting. That has to stop. It’s boring and it reinforces the negative and the stereotypical. (Jokes are another matter!) 

I also have some control over the physical aspect of aging if I choose to exercise it (pun intended.) This is where, for me, the struggle is greatest. Eating right and exercising are the great preventatives and the great tonics. It’s really pretty simple but it isn’t very easy. To some extent it is a matter of practicing what I preach. I have to act on what I know, not on what I feel. I know daily exercise helps the body and the soul. I know eating healthy extends both life and the ability to live life well. Nevertheless, I feel like sleeping in and eating whatever the hell I want whenever I want. I know that what I want to do with the rest of my life depends on a certain degree of health and well-being. I want to play golf until the day I die, preferably dropping dead after sinking a long birdie putt on the 18th hole. Earlier today I said to my wife that I wanted to live long enough to see how our granddaughter Amelia’s life would develop, her triumphs and troubles, challenges and choices. Cindy said, “So decide to do it.” I think it mainly comes down to that, the vicissitudes of life not withstanding. I need to decide to live as long as possible in as healthy a way as possible and then implement that decision one day at a time. 

Staying mentally active, according to the aging research, is just as vital as physical activity. There is even some evidence that the more intellectually curious and engaged you are earlier in life, the less likely you are to develop Alzheimer’s disease or, at least to postpone its onset and slow its progression. I don’t think I’ll have much of a problem with this part of the process. I don’t feel I’m any less curious about things than I was in my 20’s. In fact, I believe I am actually more engaged intellectually and in a more diverse way. I am also open to new experiences that I would have never taken the time for as a callow youth. In the last few years I have discovered the joys of art and have taken up pen and ink drawing. Turns out I absolutely love it. I’m able to do it and love it because of an attitudinal shift. I don’t really need to see myself as very good at it – I’m mediocre at best - because achievement is not the point of the exercise. The point is the experience of doing it. I want to do it well and I want to enhance my skills but my performance just doesn’t matter all that much. Just realized that this is also my attitude toward golf, something I absolutely love to do but rarely do well. Just being out there playing is its own reward, as is drawing. Next I’ll take up painting, inspired by a friend who has become a wonderful painter in her early retirement years.

I am blessed to have in my life some important models for aging, though all of them would dismiss that notion with great amusement. One is a tall, funny, charming, beautiful, and courageous woman about to turn 70. She is a Roman Catholic nun and has suffered all the indignities the church heaps upon religious women. She has done so with righteous anger but without any hint of whining or self-pity, and has with courage and determination made a wonderful life for herself. With grace and dignity, she has carved out an independent role as a hospital chaplain. She has been a blessing to untold numbers of suffering people and is universally loved by those who know her. She defies the stereotype of the nun. She can be irreverent, wickedly funny, and “get her Irish up” at injustice and pettiness. She is curious about and open to life in its fullest. When I met her some 25 years ago in the hospital where we both worked, I reflexively and wickedly held out my knuckles to be rapped. She laughed instead of taking offense, and I immediately fell in love with her. I’ve told her over the years that she has redeemed nuns for me and challenged my own prejudices and anger. She is simply a wonderful woman and a joy to know. 

The second woman is now in her mid 80’s and a bit troubled by health problems although you wouldn’t know it by her schedule or her lack of complaints. I actually saw her last evening at a reception for volunteers at our city library. She is as or more active than her physical limitations allow, and she has a broad array of interests and causes, from Celtic language and music, to social justice, to reformation of the church, to her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She has a lovely smile and a great Irish voice, is open and welcoming to everyone, and is very passionate about her beliefs, committing time and energy that are precious to her. About ten years ago I was teaching a course on the psychology of aging at a local college. I brought her in as a guest speaker to talk about her life, her activities, and her interests. I wanted to undermine my students’ stereotypical ideas about older people. She blew them away and gave them an idea of what great things could be done and what great fun could be had in later life. If I were still teaching that class, I’d have her in again today. 

The third model is now in his early 90’s. To say that I owe this man my life would not be an overstatement. He has been a mentor, friend and role model for 36 years. During my turbulent mid 20’s, he offered me a research internship at Yeshiva University in New York City. I couldn’t know it then but that invitation would alter and set the course of my life from that day forward. 

At the end of the year he offered me a position with the R & D Center that I immediately accepted. That led to my finishing my Ph.D. at YU instead of the University of Missouri. It also led to my switching from special education to psychology and thus down a very different career path than the one I originally set upon. It exposed me to the richness, variety, humor, and wisdom of Jewish culture, history, and intellect. It also opened my eyes to the curse of anti-Semitism. To this day, when people find out where I went to grad school they assume I’m Jewish. That bit of data causes very interesting reactions, mostly very subtle but very often leading to an intuitive sense that I am being pigeonholed into a troubling category of “other” or “different,” one of “them,” not one of “us.” 

It occurs to me that during that period he was younger than I am now. Of course, he seemed much older to me and I had never known anyone quite like him. He had and has a wicked sense of humor, could play a mean game of ping-pong, and was the best boss I have ever had in my life. I learned so much from him, often simply by observing. He taught me how to manage people. He hired the right people, set the goals for the Center, and let people do their jobs. He also allowed them to be their sometimes nutty selves and never micromanaged. We had quite a crew, bright, irascible, argumentative, full of ego and conflict, but utterly committed to the work and to getting the job done. So what if there was the occasional dramatic outburst, jealousy, and resentment, or if one of the staff had to periodically go to the bin for a med adjustment. The conflict resolved itself and the staff member came back tuned up and ready to do a great job for another year or so. It all happened because he led us, nurtured and nourished us, and allowed us to be who we were. It doesn’t get any better than that. 

He also taught me much about myself. I was in my 20’s a very angry and arrogant young man, character defects that often resulted in unnecessary conflict with people I cared about. If anyone had told me that directly, I would have responded with an angry dismissal and righteous justification. Somehow he was able to hold up a mirror and show me in a gentle, kind and clear way what a pain in the ass I really was. Coming from him, in his way, I could accept it as true, loving, and corrective. In part to please him and win his respect, I wanted to change that aspect of my character and became willing to work on it, though the process took many years and is still ongoing. My gratitude to him was such that I dedicated my dissertation to two men, my father who had died in 1968, and him. Both were equally instrumental in developing the man I have become. 

I left the Center nearly thirty years ago and we have kept in contact though not as frequently as I would like or should. He long ago retired but has been by no means been retiring. He is as intellectually curious and active as he was then, open to new ideas, new lines of inquiry, and even contradictory facts that cause him to change his positions. That led him to publish his latest book as he approached his 90th birthday. Throughout the years he has been unfailingly solicitous, generous, and stimulating. After September 11th, when I went to New York as part of a disaster response team, I spent a night with him and his wife, who has also been a kind and constant presence in my life. That night I was exhausted, feeling the impact of the trauma on the people I was seeing, and physically and emotionally drained. Being with them that night restored my body and spirit and enabled me to continue the work. I don’t think I ever properly thanked them for being there that night. I will do so soon. 

I am simply in awe of this man and his life. He will forever have my gratitude and always be my role model. 

So, there it is. I hope I am able to re-visit this subject in another ten years and see how it all turned out.

Old age, to the unlearned, is winter; to the learned, it’s harvest time.

-Yiddish saying