While exchanging mails with a dear person who came back into my life after 45 years (or so) we have touched on as many subjects as there may be. In the middle of one exchange, I came to realize we spent most of the available space talking about the past, and this triggered an internal response on my part. We have come to be who we are by going forward, mistakes and all, and not backwards. While our past is indeed the gist of our present, we (of the "third" age) cannot even begin to think or allow others to think that our lives are over. Far from it. I feel, and I know from discussing this not only with my friend, but others as well, that our best is yet to come. This generation of silver hairs (those who still have some hair, that is) is a far cry from other generations past.
Recently I was talking with a dearest person, with whom I have had the opportunity to communicate again after some 44 years of not having known the whereabouts of each other. Actually, we were not really talking; rather, we have exchanged almost daily emails about all that has gone on in both our lives during this lapse of time. It was truly a blessing and a total pleasure hearing from her again and, I hope, it was also her pleasure at having heard from me. In comparing notes, we both have had the opportunity to travel the world. In my case due to business pursuits and, in her case, as the wife of an enlisted man. As it happens, in one of those entries usually catalogued as “life’s ironies”, it turns out we may have been almost neighbors on more than one occasion.
We have talked about many of those who were our high school friends and classmates (yes, 44-45 years ago… no comments please!) and tried to find out how many of them had remained in our lives. In fact, she is now, as I write this entry, attending her HS Class of ‘65 reunion (#45). We talked about those friends who made up the band of Cubans who “invaded” Columbia HS in 1964. Some with whom I now communicate regularly (as indicated in other entries) and she was happy to hear about them. I was, in return, happy to hear about some of the others from her group and to know they are well.
As we continued to exchange mails on this subject, she made a comment which is, really, the thought behind this entry’s title of “Coming of Age”. We soon realized that, as we near the “third” third of our lives and come into the realization that the largest (not necessarily the best) part of our lives is already past, the longing for that time gone becomes a notion we manage on a daily basis. “What if?” becomes o center issue in most of these thought patterns. What if I had stayed together with so and so? What if I had never become involved in this or that? What if I had become involved in this or that? What if I had never moved to such place? You can guess that this list can become a book of many pages. And each and every one of them, my friends, a totally useless page.
We live, we make decisions as we go and most of them are done on a trial and error basis. Some have good results, some have no results and some others result in negative issues and situations that affect the rest of our lives. There is no way to know beforehand what will happen, based on an action we take –or not take. Yes, we can foresee some results (good or not so good) but these cannot be guaranteed. Whether we like it or not, all our actions are really interactions with other people who surround us. Some are family, some are strangers.
What is this all about? As we get older, we face an extremely heavy pressure not to accept the fact that we are getting older. Especially in this country of ours, where “rejuvenation techniques” (including surgery, botox, et all) have become a multi-billion (yes, with a “B”) business. We are told we can look years younger, have more hair, more muscle, more sexual power, more whatever… and less of other, unwanted things. It was simpler in my childhood, where grandparents were just that: grandparents… and were respected for simply having attained that status. No one told them they looked old, that they were out of synch with the rest of the world. Today, in this much more complex world, where an eight year old can give classes in computing, we are told that an “old-looking” person is out of synch simply because he or she looks the attained age. .
Be well!! I'll be back with more on this tomorrow... or in a couple of days.
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