You see, things should get easier as one gets
older…but that’s really not so much how it works. There are a lot of weird
things about aging, and most of them, at least with respect to the inevitable
physical deterioration are not particularly good. I’ve often thought it would
be cool to shoot a video of me getting up in the morning…as I suspect my
hunched-over, stumbling, pathetic pre-dawn walk toward the bathroom would
go viral on Youtube pretty quick. There are many days when it seems it would be
wise to just keep shuffling down the hall…past the bathroom, down the
stairs…out the door…and on down the street to the Sunrise Assisted Living
facility on Connecticut Ave.
It’s fun sometimes to kid myself into thinking there’s
something good about the body’s unavoidable decline, and that the increasing
strands of gray hair actually really do make me look more distinguished.
Sometimes I try to convince myself that my ever-softening midsection conveys a
certain coolness that can only come with five-plus decades of life experience,
but the fact-of-the-matter is there really isn’t one good thing about this
accelerating plunge toward adult diaperdom (although I have noticed there seems
to be more size 38” pants than 36”). I trip-out sometimes how even
well-educated people somehow think they’re going to be the ones to flip this
inevitable script. Sure…good diet and exercise should slow the clock somewhat,
however no amount of blended root-puree and green smoothies will change the
unavoidable outcome…and whether it’s 50, 60, 70, 80 or even 90 (news
flash…you’re probably not going to make 100…and even 90 is unlikely if you’re
working yourself into the grave)…the movie always ends…and even the full-length
version likely involves a walker, a diaper, a feeding tube and a velvet-lined
pine box.
The good news is this inescapable physical slide is
theoretically countersunk (at least for a little while) by the growing level of
wisdom that seems to come from an ever expanding perspective. When I was
younger and knew it all, things seemed so black and white. However with added
years, many things somehow now seem more gray (like…whether it’s gray or grey).
Perhaps it’s the peace that comes from the “He who knows what he doesn’t
know…is one who knows” realization, because if that’s really true…I may be an
actual genius. Logging the required time for your AARP card also has a way of
building quite a highlight (lowlight) reel, and with a wake of some pretty good
(and many insanely stupid) moves over the course of my life, there is also some
level of serenity in understanding that while I’ve may have done some
good…there is also no question about the fact that I’m perpetually flawed.
Recognizing this allows me to spend less time beating myself up those times I’ve
been a moron...which is nice, because I’d have to spend a lot of time and
energy kicking my own butt.
The problem however is that even with all the
birthdays, I seem to be trending the wrong way when faced with the opportunity
to do the right thing. ..especially when it relates to defending others. Much like the people referenced in the Washington Post
article, there seems to be an increasing
number of times when I bury my head in the sand…even in situations when there
is no question that something is brazenly wrong. In theory, I’ve
spent much of my life in a movement that prides itself on moving people to
stand up for what’s right. When individuals are reluctant to step up because of
the very real risks associated with such bravery, I’ve often implored them to
band together in collective action and to stand up for the good of the order.
Too often though when given an opportunity to actually walk the talk in my own life, I
readily fumble the ball. For me, the Washington
Post piece served as a blistering referendum on how miserably I’ve failed when
given the chance to stand up.
When I was younger, blonder, more fit, in better
health, and had less to lose (really more to lose because there was no safety
net), I didn’t have to think much about standing up for others. Now however,
though I constantly try to encourage other people to be courageous, I too often
shirk from the responsibility that would have been my default back when I
saw things more plainly. I tell myself it’s complex, that I have a lot of
company, or that it’s about self-preservation…but to be honest…some things
really are not all that complicated…and regardless of what the rest of the herd
is doing, my lack of individual action probably has a lot
more to do with cowardice than being older and more wise.
Though many have tried…there’s no turning around the
aging process. No amount of kale, lemon water, soil shakes and muscle confusion
are going to reverse the race to the rest home I’ve got going on. Sure…good
choices may slow it down a little, but no matter what, the longhand and the
shorthand are not going to start running counterclockwise. The time piece only runs
one direction…and while that realization can be somewhat sad…one of the
benefits was supposed to be the accumulated knowledge that comes with turning
each calendar page. I’ll never get back my youth…but I sure wish I could find
that younger backbone. If I could ever find it I’d stand up more…and actually make sure my
own actions match the rhetoric I so freely save for everyone else.
Regardless of how long you live, life is way too
short. Try to go out this weekend and do something fun. If you can, try to
include the people and pets that you love…and whatever you decide to do, have a
truly wonderful weekend. If along the way you get an opportunity to stand up
for somebody else…don’t be like me. Do the right thing.
Have a great weekend.
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