Monday, July 26, 2010

Coming Of Age; Part II

Not much to say on this one, except that it follows the other one... Some thoughts about growing up and older. 


I definitely know that the best of my life is the rest of my life. I love learning, reading, doing. I like to also do my own thinking, a habit that is also losing ground amongst the following generations. And I use “following” as a specific term: not only the generations that follow ours, but also generations which have become followers of mandates dictated by public opinion and by the media marketing campaigns.

Every time there is a member of the “older” generation who chooses not to sit down and let time simply take over he or she is usually seen as “cute or amazing”… the oldest grad, the oldest swimmer, the oldest runner in a marathon. Etc… The reality is that we are living much longer than our grandparents did; back in '74 when I started selling life insurance, tables would usually allow us to sell based on a mortality rate that said, unequivocally, that a normal lifespan was then 78 years. Today, companies have products that are geared to “seniors” and can be sold to someone who is, at purchase time, 80 years old. Retirement time was 62 when my work life started; today is inching up to 70.

I, and many others who are now entering into their “Silver Haired 60’s”, are very much aware that our lives have a lot to give yet, and so do we as individuals. Many who have made some not so good decisions in life (myself included) and who must work in order to exist, do so knowing that the work market often overlooks experience and favors looks and “youth”. The young deserve to grow and make their own mistakes;   however, experience is not learned in schools but in the classrooms of life and, like it or not, if you have not lived it, you haven’t got it.

Those of us who came from elsewhere at a young age had to endure changes and a “rapid growth” stage, in order to survive. That’s OK; this, I believe, actually prepared us for things that would come our way, with no warning and no instructions. Age is great; and as for those clever little face lines colorfully dubbed “smile lines”, “crow’s feet”, “worry lines”, etc., they are not a horrible issue to deal with, as some would want us to think. They are, in a much more real sense, small lifelines that tell a story. I don’t want to “botox” them away; I want to be able to look at them and recall the many issues that caused them along the way. The sad ones, the funny ones; the ones that have caused regrets and the wistful ones; the ones that left a bitter taste in my spirit and those that still, after many years in some cases, taste of honey. When these are all put together, with a little bit of today’s salt, pepper and vinegar, they make up who I am. Why, in the name of all that is good and beautiful, erase them as if they never had a reason to exist?

I drive a 16 year old car which I bought sometime ago, because is what I could at that moment afford. It has about 250,000 miles of road time; sometimes it coughs, sometimes it groans a little; I have to top off the oil every 800 miles or so and the seats are worn. Yet, it has character, personality and presence. It’s warm and comfy… It says: Here I am!!! I'm ready to roll!!  Every morning when the key is turned, the engine revs up, the radio plays, and everything works as it should. Well… sometimes a lock doesn’t close and the radio volume knob has to be gently turned. But I can’t just yet bring myself to exchange it. The bloody car fights on, refusing to give up.

As for me, sometimes the bones creak a little when morning comes, the shoulders hurt and the legs are still getting back into shape after the inactivity prior to the surgery. I even need to top off with a glass of wine every 18 to 20 hours… but I go on, also refusing  to give up.

Be Well!! Be Back…

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