Old age is a gift.
Now you might not believe me when I say that, but I believe that each decade of life brings something new and beautiful. The first decade is wonder, the second is excitement, the third is youthful optimism, the fourth might be grounded reality, the fifth is steady contemplation, and after that? Well, after listening to my classmates’ stories about their grandparents and neighbors, it seems to me that although six decades and beyond bring canes and Dr. Scholl’s insured feet, it also ushers in a time of great joy, reflection, and wisdom.
As the anti-aging industry would have you believe, this priceless accruement is nothing if you’re getting wrinkled. Perusing through Arlene Weintraub’s flawed but informative novel, Selling the Fountain of Youth, it’s astonishing to see the depth of mankind’s insecurities. In a world where the system is already telling us we’re not enough, it even goes so far to tell us that getting old—a very natural part of life—is a disease!
I think what it really comes down to is that we’re afraid. We’re afraid of not being mobile. Or fast. Or as beautiful. We’re afraid of getting old because we live in a society where old is perceived as being a burden. A blight. But I just want to say it now—living a long life is beautiful and desirable. Just think of yourself as whisky—the longer you age, the more valuable you become!
In fact, in one of my history classes, Professor Gallant shared with us his grandparents’ experiences in Greece during World War II. He described how Italy had invaded the country, and his family—mountain locals who aided the national army in staving off this threat—carried heavy artillery up the cliffs. His grandmother suffered an injury that permanently dislocated her shoulder—an impediment that prompted my professor to ask what happened. Then, he went on to describe how he now works alongside that community to record the invaluable stories the residents have to share with the rest of the world.
Old age is beauty.
What good is trying to live longer when you have no one to share your experiences with? I get that you might be afraid of the aches and pains, and God-forbid, a lower sex drive, but when you age, you already have everything you need. Your life becomes a story that is waiting to be told. Your perspective, your input is valuable. Everything you have seen and lived through makes you a walking film reel and if you don’t record it down or share it, your very wild and marvelous life will fade like most of the other forgotten stories of time.
As Maya Angelou said, "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."
Now you might not believe me when I say that, but I believe that each decade of life brings something new and beautiful. The first decade is wonder, the second is excitement, the third is youthful optimism, the fourth might be grounded reality, the fifth is steady contemplation, and after that? Well, after listening to my classmates’ stories about their grandparents and neighbors, it seems to me that although six decades and beyond bring canes and Dr. Scholl’s insured feet, it also ushers in a time of great joy, reflection, and wisdom.
As the anti-aging industry would have you believe, this priceless accruement is nothing if you’re getting wrinkled. Perusing through Arlene Weintraub’s flawed but informative novel, Selling the Fountain of Youth, it’s astonishing to see the depth of mankind’s insecurities. In a world where the system is already telling us we’re not enough, it even goes so far to tell us that getting old—a very natural part of life—is a disease!
I think what it really comes down to is that we’re afraid. We’re afraid of not being mobile. Or fast. Or as beautiful. We’re afraid of getting old because we live in a society where old is perceived as being a burden. A blight. But I just want to say it now—living a long life is beautiful and desirable. Just think of yourself as whisky—the longer you age, the more valuable you become!
In fact, in one of my history classes, Professor Gallant shared with us his grandparents’ experiences in Greece during World War II. He described how Italy had invaded the country, and his family—mountain locals who aided the national army in staving off this threat—carried heavy artillery up the cliffs. His grandmother suffered an injury that permanently dislocated her shoulder—an impediment that prompted my professor to ask what happened. Then, he went on to describe how he now works alongside that community to record the invaluable stories the residents have to share with the rest of the world.
Old age is beauty.
What good is trying to live longer when you have no one to share your experiences with? I get that you might be afraid of the aches and pains, and God-forbid, a lower sex drive, but when you age, you already have everything you need. Your life becomes a story that is waiting to be told. Your perspective, your input is valuable. Everything you have seen and lived through makes you a walking film reel and if you don’t record it down or share it, your very wild and marvelous life will fade like most of the other forgotten stories of time.
As Maya Angelou said, "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."