When Are We Old?

     If you read my last post, you know I got embroiled in one minor issue of the aging over the weekend. But it got me wondering: When are we old?

     I remember going through my own aging issue, a kind of mid-life crisis, when I was 28 years old. Yes, 28.

     At the time, I recall thinking that I was almost 30 -- and 30 was, oh god, 30 was middle age. I was married, had a job, had just bought a house. My life path was set. No more surprises. I might as well lie down and die.

     Of course, now with the wisdom of age, I can see that I was being ridiculous. My life was just beginning -- I went back to graduate school, had a couple of kids, watched them grow up and go to college, bought and sold a couple of houses; got divorced; got downsized; found a new life partner; bought and sold another house. And life goes on.

     But as I now look around at all the other people in my life, and those I meet in town or while traveling, I notice people with little kids, and guys going off to work, and I see the people making news on TV or in the newspaper. And I realize ... I am older than all those people.

     I'm one of the gray hairs who goes to the movies at 5 p.m. -- with all the other gray hairs -- because I don't want to stay out too late. I'm one of the people interested in Social Security, not as some theoretical benefit far-off into the future, but in the here and now. When I travel to Florida, I realize that I'm not one of those people going to see their parents. I am one of the parents.

     They say that 50 is the new 40. Well, that's irrelevant for me. I'm long past 40, long past 50.

     So when does old age start anyway? At 55 when places like movie theaters and public parks start giving you senior-citizen discounts? At 59 1/2, when the government lets you withdraw funds from your IRA without a penalty? Or at age 62, when you can start taking Social Security? Or 65 when you get Medicare? Or 66, which is now considered normal retirement age?

     Or, maybe it doesn't start until you go into an Independent Living facility, at age 80 or 85.

     Walking around everyday, I sure don't feel like I'm old. And, remember, they say you're only as old as you feel.

Anthony Hopkins will play Methuselah in the upcoming film Noah

     But, eventually, no matter how you feel, time does move on, and even if you're healthy, you're old. And there comes a point when, if you don't think you're old, you're just in denial.

     Then there are the moments when the knee acts up; or my ankle hurts; or the back begins to bother me. Or I can't stay up late to watch the Olympics; and we're the first to leave the party, at 10 p.m., because it's getting to be our bedtime. Or . . . we just don't want to go at all, because it's a half-hour drive, and who wants to be driving home in the dark anyway?

     The term "old" is a vague concept, I guess. Some people are old when their 50; others are still vibrant when they're 70. Depends on your health, your attitude, your interests and activities. When did old age start for Methuselah, who supposedly lived to age 960 or thereabouts?

     Maybe there are stages in getting old -- perhaps the same stages people go through in facing death. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. As for me, I'm in the denial stage. Well . . . maybe the bargaining stage, because every once in a while I find myself trying to make a deal -- okay, I can handle the toothache, as long as this pain in my side isn't a tumor.

     But here's what I've finally figured out. My kids constantly joke around about how old I am. How I should count my age in Roman numerals. How I know so much about the Civil War because I was personal friends with Abe Lincoln. How I blog about . . . retirement.

     That's okay. They've been making these jokes ever since they started to talk. The time to worry, I've decided, is when they stop making jokes about me being old, because they know it cuts too close to the bone.

     That's when I'll know I'm really old.

The Consummate Hostess

     We had a slight disagreement over the last weekend. We were visiting family in Pennsylvania, where the matriarch of the clan, at age 96, lives in an independent living facility.

     She is still pretty healthy and lively. She takes a walk every day, has lots of friends, gets around without using a walker or even a cane. In fact, with a little help from one of her daughters, she can walk just as far as we can, and at the end of the day doesn't complain about her tired feet as much as we do.

     But she no longer has a car, she doesn't drive, and she can't get anywhere by herself. So she wanted us to come over to her place for dinner -- that was the only way she felt she could take her turn as host for the family.

     And that's where the disagreement came in. Her son, age 68, hates to go to the independent-living dining room. The food is pretty good, and the dining room is bright and new-looking. But . . . it's the people. They are, of course, all old. The average age is pushing 90. There are very few men (and they are usually falling into their soup). The women are hunched over with arthritis and osteoporosis. Their thinning hair is white. Many are in wheelchairs.

     In short, it's depressing as hell.

     Her two daughters were not fazed by the situation. One of them, who lives nearby and visits her mother once or twice a week to help her out, takes the whole situation in stride. The other daughter was ready to go. She thought the food was good, and joked that she was too busy burying her head in her plate to notice all the infirmities and indignities of the other people in the dining room.

      I myself (I'm embarrassed to admit) agreed with the brother. I had been to the dining room once before. First of all, they insist on eating dinner at 5 p.m. Way too early for me. (Remember the old Seinfeld episode when Jerry visits his parents in Florida, who want to get to the restaurant for the 5-o'clock special? Jerry whines: I'm not going to eat dinner in the middle of the afternoon, just to save a dollar! When they do go to the restaurant at a normal time, Jerry's father's friends think he's so rich he must be embezzling funds from the condo association.)

     Anyway, I admit the food was pretty good, and the dining room was pleasant. But I can't stomach a meal when the people at the next table are sitting in wheelchairs looking like they should be in the hospital, not in the dining room.

     You see all those old people. You see your future. And it kills your appetite.

     Besides, there's another issue for us men. You can't help but notice all those aged women, and so few men, reminding you that as horrible as it is for these women to get old and infirm, they're better off than the men, who have already died.

     Do you think I was being insensitive? Callous? Selfish? Impolite?

     It's not that the men categorically refused to have dinner at the mother's place. We would have gone if we had to. And it's not that the women were adamant about eating at the independent living facility. But they thought it was important for their mother be able to play hostess, to feel that she was part of the family, involved in the activities, and not just the poor, helpless relation people felt obligated to visit.

     We men could understand that, so we finally hit on a solution. We drove down to the independent living facility and picked her up. Then we headed over to a little place nearby called Mt. Gretna, comprising several small communities dedicated to "the promotion of cultural and religious activities, recreation and entertainment."

     We took a walk; got caught in a light refreshing rain; we saw the theater where they were rehearsing a musical, and ate dinner at a modest but popular local spot called the Jigger Shop, where they serve hamburgers, sandwiches and the best ice cream in the world.

     And the girls' mother got her way. She was the host, as she happily paid for dinner.

     Later, when we got back to her apartment at the independent living facility, we wondered if we should just drop her off, or should we go inside for a visit. Was she too tired? Did her legs hurt?

     "Oh no, no," she replied. "Come on in for a few minutes," she offered gladly, like the good hostess she was. And so we did.

Going to the Country

     It's the last weekend before Labor Day, and so B and I are taking a long weekend, leaving our suburb behind and going to the country. We'll be staying with her sister who lives in a 150-year-old farmhouse in rural Pennsylvania, with no air conditioning, but stone walls four-feet thick and an attic fan that keeps the whole house comfortably in the 70s, even if it touches 90 outside.

     There's a corn field out front, a big kitchen garden in the back, and a couple of shade trees hanging over the screened-in porch.

Home-grown tomatoes!

     B will help her sister put up some corn, and they'll probably go to a quilt sale or a craft fair. We'll take walks down a country lane past all the wildflowers, smelling the cows in the distance, then head over to the wood shop where old men build hand-made wood tables, benches and chairs.

     We will eat fresh salad with lettuce from the garden and home-grown tomatoes. We'll get up early and go to bed early, and spend the weekend breathing in the country air. Our last great gasp of summer.

     See you next week.

Prosper and Live Long

     I always thought that your personal habits as well as your whole attitude toward life helped determine how healthy you are and even how long you live. For example, I figured people who are cheerful and happy, the life-of-the-party types, had a leg up on the rest of us in terms of life expectancy. I mean, if you're really happy, doesn't that give you a strong incentive to live as long as you can?

     But it turns out that is wrong. In fact, cheerful people are less likely, on average, to live to a ripe old age than people who tend to be more serious. Why? Because happy-go-lucky people are prone to "illusory optimism" -- they underestimate health risks and don't follow medical advice. These people are less likely to wear their seat belts, for example, and they also tend to drink, smoke, and party hard.

     I was actually reading a story about life insurance when I stumbled on a reference to this longevity study, started at Stanford University in the 1920s and completed last year by two University of California researchers, Howard Friedman and Leslie Martin. The results were published in a book called The Longevity Project. They have also developed a consulting firm, Longevity Insight, which specializes in "informational products with a focus on longevity."

     The results from the 80-year study show that people who are conscientious -- careful, hard working, maybe even a little neurotic -- are the ones who live longest. These people on average do more things to protect their health. They're more likely to go for their annual physical and recommended tests; they're less likely to smoke or drink to excess; they're even less likely to speed or break other traffic laws. These are the people who also tend to arrange their lives for their own benefit. They somehow find their way into happier marriages, better friendships, healthier work environments.

     It may come as no surprise to discover that successful, wealthy people live longer. Part of the reason is access to top-notch medical care, a better diet and healthier lifestyles in general. But the other part of the equation is that success did not necessarily bring on overwork and more stress. Instead, those who lived a long time tended to work hard and strive to overcome obstacles. Apparently, striving to accomplish a goal, achieving success, and then setting new goals, are characteristics of people who tend to live long, healthful lives.

     Marital state did not necessarily help people live long, productive lives. A happy marriage was found to produce healthy side effects for men. But not necessarily for women. A bad marriage raised health complications for both genders. But it was women who were more likely to stay healthy after a divorce, as they found it easier to turn to friends and family for social support. Men who got divorced, and did not remarry, were at high risk for premature death.

     The researchers confirmed that people who go to church tend to be healthier than those who don't. But the benefits derived primarily from the increased social interactions people enjoyed at church, not from the religious experience itself. So presumably any other regular social engagement would be just as beneficial.

     Kids who started formal schooling at an early age typically had health problems later in life. But many kids who suffered a childhood trauma -- the divorce of their parents, for example -- were able to bounce back and, perhaps because of the resilience they developed, lived to a ripe old age.

     It turns out that your personal habits and your whole attitude toward life do affect your longevity. Just not in axactly the way we thought.

     So eat your broccoli. That can't hurt. But it's more important to be conscientious about your life, set some goals for yourself and work to achieve them; make it a point to build a happy, positive intimate relationship, and a good, supportive group of more casual friends.

     Oh yeah . . . and be sure to get your flu shot this fall.
    

The August Blogging Boomers Carnival

      This edition of the Blogging Boomers Carnival touches on a variety of subjects from the gustatory to the spiritual, from the world of business to the world of good works. So page down and take a look.

     Laura Lee opens by saying that summertime is novel reading time for the Midlife Crisis Queen, who's an ex-librarian. Here's a review of her favorite read this summer.

     In honor of what would have been Julia Child’s 100^th birthday, the Accidental Locavore turns her literary attention to the how-to shelf. She decided she was going to make a French-inspired dinner. But instead, she may have discovered the one ingredient that the French rarely use. What do you think it was?

     On The Survive and Thrive Boomer Guide, Rita R. Robison, consumer journalist, wrote about trends in aging that could affect baby boomers. Among them are more women working, and increasing housing costs and rates of diabetes.

     Eliza at her blog, Silver and Grace, teases out one aspect of those trends, claiming that the beauty industry makes a lot of money by creating a fear of aging. Case in point are promoters of hair dye, who make sweeping statements like, "The truth is, natural gray hair makes people look older." But is that really true? Find out at: Will gray hair make you look older?

     Meanwhile, the Vaboomer has a few answers if you're wondering, What Businesses Thrive in a Recession? If you think it's businesses that are lean and mean, you're on the right track, but you'll have to check out her post to see how they fit in with . . . Spam.

     Waxing more philosophical, So Baby Boomer believes that our lives are shaped by something, and that each boomer has the ability to discover the something that will give meaning to their lives. As an outgrowth, your life experiences have taught you valuable skills that you may now be ready to apply in your encore career.

     Finally, our Arabian baby boomer reports in from Dubai. She believes that even one person can make a difference in the world, and then asks you to contemplate what happens when no less than 11,000 volunteers show up. On her blog, Arabian Tales, Katie Foster relates her experience with the overwhelming generosity of the Emiratis and expats who call Dubai home. And her post Adopt a Camp Ramadan Care Package Project demonstrates the enormous power of a generous idea.