Can We Talk 2

Aging Not For Sissies

         Why do the knees get old faster than the rest of the body? We move slower as we age. At first we tell ourselves, it's because we're mellow. We're not in a hurry to impress someone like those young whippersnappers. I have efficiency of motion; there's no need for speed. Then it just becomes a habit. Eventually, we realize this is as fast as I can go. I'm not running or I'll ruin my dignity.

         And you try so hard to read things without glasses, but you can't decipher numbers the way you can words. My glasses make me look like my grandmother! I can't see with them on, despite being bifocals. I need the bottom part for reading, the top part for long distance, but I have to take them off for most things.

         We have to ask people to repeat themselves all the time. Are young people just talking more softly on purpose? They play their music loud, but speak like they are timid. And if they give a telephone number, their voices trail off at the end. Is it a conspiracy to make us think we're losing our hearing?

         I think my house is haunted. There is a tired older woman looking at me in my mirrors. She used to be attractive once upon a time maybe, but now she's a little scary.

         You can tell if people are in my generation or older by how much time they spend on Face-book or at doctor's offices. The medical stuff is a combination of their own, their spouse's, and their elderly parents. It's almost a full-time job. Then there's all the bills, the insurance, and the medicines to keep straight.

         And amazingly time heals a lot of relationships. The people you couldn't stand in high school are now your best buds when you encounter them somewhere. You just don't have enough time to catch up. Somehow onlookers get the impression you were long lost friends who really hung out together all those decades ago.

         Getting old is not for sissies. I don't want to believe that I'm as old as other people my age. I just can't look as bad as they do! It's hard to believe that 40 years ago I went on a 15 mile hike, then went home to shower and change and went dancing that night. Me! Less than 10 years after that a hike in the Appalachian Mountains with Boy Scouts left me in bed the next day unable to move my hip joints. It was spring, and I made my first real discovery that weekend that I suffer seasonal allergies, breathing deeply as I gasped and panted in all that mountain pollen.

         So now an hour of walking in the park leaves me breathless. My body tells me I'm old, --- it, I'm old. But my mind just won't accept it. I still want to be cool, fashionable, productive, creative, and find Prince Charming (I'm very reasonable, gray or white hair is okay). Is that too much to ask?