Someone (who shall remain nameless) recently reminded me that I’m not getting older – I have arrived. Then there are the folks who dole out left-handed compliments like, “you’re not that old” or “you look good for your age”, which always make me think of my dad who would say things about someone’s appearance, age, or demeanor, that I believe are too impolite to write down. Of course he was joking…I’m pretty sure he was joking.

And there are plenty of jokes about aging. My current favorites are: “You can cross off dying young from your list of things to worry about” and “Wow! They grow old so fast. And by ‘they’, I mean you”. I can’t promise I haven’t shared those, in a loving way, with some of my old (and dear) friends. Maybe I’m more like my dad than I think. Oh, well…

It also seems that my Medicare Supplement Provider warns me constantly of the dangers of my advanced age. Almost daily I receive IMPORTANT information about testing, drug therapies, and other preventable maladies or treatments that I should investigate, take part in or avoid depending on the situation, the need or the risks. And when I visit my primary care physician, I’m quizzed about slippery throw rugs, staircases and other potential household hazards that people my age apparently should avoid.

For most of my life, ignorance, avoidance, and denial have served me well. I intend to approach my golden years in this same manner. I refuse to live in fear. Being in my seventies does not necessarily imply senility. I’m still functional. I’m still literate. I can actually walk and chew gum at the same time (the knee does pain me, and the gum must be sugarless, but that’s beside the point). Lately I have been bombarded on social media with young people who are embracing self-care. I’m embracing “que sera, sera“. I may be old, but I’m not done. I refuse to sit down and be quiet. I still have a few versus to sing. And I’m counting on some other old-timers to join in my chorus.

Author Anne Lamott describes aging as a process that brings clarity, gentleness, acceptance, and a shedding of perfectionism, emphasizing love, service, humor, and the preciousness of life as central themes.

I don’t know about the clarity part, but I’m trying to be gentler and more accepting. And I gave up perfectionism a while back. So, bring on the love, service, and humor. Because life is precious.

Now that I’m older, I do have more time for service. I’m able to volunteer for organizations and causes that are dear to me. I have the luxury of more time for prayer. I can hold a hand, dry a tear, offer my shoulder, or carry the load for another. There is less hurry and even less worry. Again – “que sera, sera“.

As my own parents aged, I was reminded many times of my impatience. This poem both shames me and gives me hope that someday my children will slow down when I need them to.

Until then, I will keep on keeping on, and they can try to keep up, as they marvel at how witty, spry, and involved I am at my advanced age. A young person asked me not long ago why I walk so fast. I told him that I don’t have as much time as he does to get things done.

Here’s to many more years of defying the odds and my Medicare Supplement Provider.

Peace,

Denis