The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.
— Robert Frost
Dear Life:
I want to register a complaint: I’m not happy to be aging. Don’t get me wrong — It’s definitely better than the alternative of death. (I’m fully aware that the non-aging circumstance of Adaline only exists on screen.)
Just when I feel like I am mentally hitting my prime, my body begins to betray me. A list of complaints:
1. Wrinkles
When did this crow land on my face? What is happening to me? I went to see a plastic surgeon to discuss removing a weird vein on my leg. My leg! But he took one look at my face and said, “You need Botox. You probably should consider a forehead lift.” Gee, thanks.
2. Crepey skin
Whose zombie hands are these? I use sunscreen and plenty of potions to keep my paws supple. Why do they look like this?
3. Slower metabolism
There’s more of me than there should be. It would be easily remedied with regular visits to the gym. Ain’t nobody got time for that. So I’m on what I call my Cruise Diet. (So called because I did it last year in preparation for our summer cruise. I didn’t want anyone to see me on deck and try to throw me back in the water.) You may ask, “What is this diet?” Think of everything you like to eat and drink. Yeah, well, you can’t have any of it. No dairy, sugar, pasta, grains or alcoholic beverages. I’m reduced to eating grass clippings and palm fronds. It works, though.
4. Jacked-up joints
Last weekend, I was peacefully curled up on the couch enjoying a marathon of recorded episodes of “The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon” (’cause this gal can’t stay up that late). I stood up to get some unsweetened tea (the only thing I can drink besides water) and my hip gave out. That’s a WTF moment if I’ve ever had one. I had to laugh. It’s not funny, though. Not really.
5. Memories
Last week, I actually started a sentence with, “Back in my day.” Good GOD! What have I become? I remember a world without cable, remotes, computers and cellphones. Excuse me while I retrieve my walker.
I’m at that point where I know I’m too old for certain clothes (crop tops), certain activities (climbing on top of the dryer to reach something on the top shelf in the laundry room) and certain people (no Nathan Kress — yes, Freddie from iCarly — unless he hunts cougars).
The wisest are the most annoyed at the loss of time.
— Dante Alighieri
So thanks, Life. Thanks for giving me the wisdom to realize how good my 20s were.
Yours in dismay,
Granny Beth
Observe and report 
Well put. I feel your pain. 🙂
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I’d love to read your article, but I have to move the computer screen halfway across the backyard to read the type. xo
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I wrote this on Facebook about 3 years ago. It’s the “good part” of aging!
Oh, NOT to Be Young Again!
In the film Playing by Heart, a couple, who had just celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary, have the following exchange after lovingly gazing at their adult children, “If only they knew what we know.” Sigh. “No. Then, it would be too easy.”
I want to convey wisdom, without sounding old. I want those younger than me to understand the psychology and emotionality of aging. I want youth to be prepared to age so that, in the words of Thich Nhat Hanh, they “lean into it” rather than being afraid of it.
There is a paralysis in trying to impart what you have learned to those significantly younger than yourself. The paralysis comes, not from your aging mind and body, but from the inability of youth to perceive the wisdom beyond its own years. As a result, an emotional and intellectual trap is created. Youth rejects the insight of age due to fear and, consequently, those older and wiser cannot convey the exhilaration and power of aging to those who reject the idea that age equals power, or see age as merely a state of decrepitude.
If one embraces knowledge, then getting older is exciting. When I was in my 40s, I was amazed at how little I knew when I was in my 20s (although I thought I had “it” all figured out in my 20s). Now, in my 60s, I look back at my 40s and realize that I was just beginning to live. Your 40s is really the time in your life when the pieces start falling into place, when you begin to realize the power of your own acquired wisdom.
I deplore expressions that lament aging, such as “Youth is wasted on the young” and “oh, to be young again.” I also find finger-wagging at youth, e.g. “Just wait until you get to be my age …” to be pointless and ineffective. In both cases, there is segregation and distancing by years, when in fact, aging cannot be compartmentalized (although specific eras can be referenced). Getting older is, rather, a continuous thread that connects every year of one’s life. You are not isolated in the present by the memories of the past. In fact, as one ages, the past and present melt together. While you have momentous points in your life and special events that you hold close to your heart, aging is seamless. So many times I have heard people older than myself say, upon reaching a certain “commemorative” birthday marker, “But I don’t feel any different.” Of course not, because aging does not tumble like a waterfall over rocks, bouncing concussively into numerical milestones. Rather, it moves quietly, like a reflective stream, steering itself around obstacles, picking up treasures along the way … a leaf here, and a twig there … all to be a part of a seamless journey.
Prolific author Madeleine l”Engle once said, “The great thing about getting older is that you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been.” Indeed, it is the best part.
CB, 12.4.12
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