Re: An Essay on Getting Old

A wonderful piece.....full of truths. Thanks for posting.

For those who might be inclined to argue any of the points, let me add this.
I'm just past my 85th birthday and I normally serve one day a week as a
volunteer in one of our County's Senior Centers. I do it because it reminds
me that I should be grateful that I can do something to help people who are
much younger and more infirm than I.
I serve as a receptionist and also fill in when needed in the kitchen
getting Meals on Wheels and clients' lunches ready to be served.

Yesterday, I saw an obit in the local newspaper showing the name of one of
our clients. Hadn't seen him in recent months, but he used to show up to
play bingo and have lunch with his senior friends in our place. He got
around in one of those motorized wheel chairs and usually had one arm in a
sling. He was a shy, polite and universally well-liked individual and it
saddened me to read of his passing. He was 59.

My point in recounting this is that we none of us know how many days we have
left on this earth in which to do the things that give us pleasure or
otherwise have meaning for us. So let us all count our blessings and take
utmost advantage of them whilst we can. Thanks again for posting that
wonderful plagiarized essay whose author clearly deserves kudos for
understanding what it's really all about.

Hal






mg wrote:
Stolen from another website:

Old Age, I decided, is a gift.

I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have
always wanted to be Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my
body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging ***. And often
I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror but I
don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving
family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've
become kinder to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my
own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for
not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't
need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a
treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before
they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer
until 4 AM and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those
wonderful tunes of [my youth], and if I, at the same time, wish to
weep over a lost love ... I will

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging
body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to,
despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get
old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is
just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important
things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not
break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even
when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are
what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart
never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of
being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning
gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep
grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died
before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about
what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even
earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I
like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but
while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could
have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert
every single day (if I feel like it).


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