Growing Old Graciously

Growing old is something of a conundrum: for something we are told exists only in our minds, people seem to spend every waking hour thinking about it. The problem is that no one quite knows what to do. Even our media is hopelessly conflicted on the subject.

On the one hand, the media hits us with ads for every manner of potion, lotion, hair dye, viagra, and other chemical known to humankind, all designed to prevent or reverse time. We're shown admiring portraits of people who have surgically tightened, smoothed, and sucked away their age, the implication being that if we look like "before" pictures it must mean we are lazy or cheap. Into this category fall those "raging against the light" (to quote Dylan Thomas) and those older men and women who pursue youth by literally pursuing youths, using the mantra, "if I can get away with/afford it, why not?" No one HAS to look old is the mantra that keeps plastic surgeons in their Ferraris.

On the other hand, we are given unctious sermons on accepting ourselves as we are and growing old "gracefully," which seems to mean not whining about getting old, accepting whatever stereotype of age our culture decides to imnpose on us, and showing up on time to babysit the grandchildren. Usually, though, it's tied to appearance as few overweights (even the mild forms) are said to be aging "well."

If we take all this nonsense seriously--which I can't--what, then, are we left with? The apparent choice seems either to take action against a sea of sags ( the solution approved by a society that links appearance to success) or get off the boat and sink beneath the waves (a solution not favored by people who still have alert minds).

Well, I neither desire nor wish to pay for growing old "well," nor do I wish to recede into a rocking chair waiting for the ultimate call. Instead, I propose to grow old "graciously." Allow me to explain.

You are at a busy airport with heavy luggage and someone you don't know offers to help. What do you do?

a.  Say you are perfectly capable of handling your things. You're not a cripple, thank you very much. You've got enough money to pay for a porter if you want one.
b.  Agree to the help but complain about how things are so rushed these days and warn the person not to damage your suitcase.
c. Although perfectly capable, accept the help with a smile and thanks.

If you chose a), you're still trying to compete with the big dogs in the world of power. If b) you have sunk into self-pity. If c) you are gracious.  The person who offered help to a) will walk away muttering about old farts. If b) the person will feel used and manipulated. If c) the person will feel they have done a good deed and, who knows, maybe they'll be a little bit kinder to other people for the rest of the day. The younger folk are so unkind to one another these days, a little genuine humanity and concern for others might go a long way.

Little acts of kindness--the pat on the shoulder I got from the waiter at lunch today, the unexpected offer to open a water bottle with a stuck cap, doors held open a little extra long for me, help pulling my suitcase off the airport carousel--can only be done for children and seniors because we are believed safe to show kindness to. They don't think we're still competing or slighting others--frankly, because we're supposed to be mature and grown beyond egocentrism and greedily grasping for a world that is no longer ours. Some of us anyway.

I believe growing old graciously means providing a model of maturity and compassion for those behind us still locked in the rat race. We don't have to be rich, looking fifteen years younger, and flattening and shaping our aging bodies to compete with the people to whom youth really belongs. We carry with us the marks life has put on us, but we have one thing youth doesn't: we have experience and instead of spouting about the good old days, it would behoove us to behave as a model of them.

Fortunately, experience is one thing that's safe from botox.