Getting Older
Friday, 10. October 2008, 16:09:11
In keeping with my blog reasoning..........that is, passing along items that interest me, today's post was a communication that I received from an old friend. Tom Dawson, a fine man and the best cartoonist that I've had the pleasure to meet. The subject is "getting older" and I will include his reasoning for a poem that he wrote..................
If a twenty year-old woke up one morning to find that she (or he) had aged 45 years, I think that a resounding "YYYARRRRRRGGGGGG!" might be heard. But, as the aging process gently rips out our hair, pokes us in the eyes, re-arranges our faces to resemble California mud slides, while stealing our hearing and making so many new "pretty young things" to look at, we can blithely go on because the process has been (so far) incrementally slow.
We (those who are actually getting older) are like the frog in the beaker of water slowly heating up. As the water heats up the frog isn't concerned, because it's going so slowly. By the time the water is so hot that it kills the frog, well, the frog is dead.
Ahhh, life~! Isn't it amazing?
So, here's my poem. I wrote it for my 93 year old step-mother, Madeline.
It's called "Keep On Going".
Some folks walk with a walker.
Some folks use a chair.
Some folks use a walking stick
To get from here to there.
Some folks walk on two legs,
They tip-toe, march and hike.
Babies crawl, children run,
No two are quite alike.
But matter not who you are,
Or how you get along,
You have to keep on going,
Or else you will be gone!
Yes Tom, Life is amazing! 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 butt. 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 more kind 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 the 60 & 70's,
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.
One more thing..........I'm probably not as old as many of you reading this.....ha, ha!
If a twenty year-old woke up one morning to find that she (or he) had aged 45 years, I think that a resounding "YYYARRRRRRGGGGGG!" might be heard. But, as the aging process gently rips out our hair, pokes us in the eyes, re-arranges our faces to resemble California mud slides, while stealing our hearing and making so many new "pretty young things" to look at, we can blithely go on because the process has been (so far) incrementally slow.
We (those who are actually getting older) are like the frog in the beaker of water slowly heating up. As the water heats up the frog isn't concerned, because it's going so slowly. By the time the water is so hot that it kills the frog, well, the frog is dead.
Ahhh, life~! Isn't it amazing?
So, here's my poem. I wrote it for my 93 year old step-mother, Madeline.
It's called "Keep On Going".
Some folks walk with a walker.
Some folks use a chair.
Some folks use a walking stick
To get from here to there.
Some folks walk on two legs,
They tip-toe, march and hike.
Babies crawl, children run,
No two are quite alike.
But matter not who you are,
Or how you get along,
You have to keep on going,
Or else you will be gone!
Yes Tom, Life is amazing! 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 butt. 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 more kind 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 the 60 & 70's,
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.
One more thing..........I'm probably not as old as many of you reading this.....ha, ha!
WIDGETIZE