I spent my first couple of decades wanting to be older. The big kids had all the fun. And when I asked questions, my mom often said, “You’ll understand when you’re older.” Who wants to hear that? It didn’t help that, due to homeschooling, I began formal education at age six, in the second grade, and graduated high school at sixteen. All my classmates got to do things before I was allowed. Dating, driving…
For some reason, unknown even to me, I couldn’t wait to turn eight. Why that was a magic number is a mystery, but I do recall it as a happy year. After that, the next goal was twenty; again, for no particular reason. The years passed quickly, and mostly unnoted, until I hit fifty and joked to an older friend, “It’s all downhill from here, right?” His reply was sobering. “Well, it’s been that way at my house.”
For much of my life, I was always the youngest in any group. Now, the reverse is true. My daughter became eligible for Medicare this year and says, “I was taught to respect my elders, but it’s getting harder and harder to find any.” Hang onto your hat honey!
I’m amazed at all the ads which promise to erase signs of aging. Our society worships youth and beauty. News flash—age isn’t something to be ashamed of. It’d be nice not to look old but it’s more important not to think old. When asked how he’s doing, my husband most always replies, “Excellent,” even when he’s not.
If you pay attention, it’s easy to guess age and health. Us oldsters hang onto the rail, go down steps carefully, take longer getting out of a chair, and try to avoid picking something up off the floor.
Some people are trained to pay attention. A medical person asked my son when he’d broken his collarbone. “Which time? And what makes you think I ever did anyway?” “You’d be surprised what we can tell by the way people move,” was the reply.
I’m a people watcher. When farmers and ranchers get out of a vehicle and head for the store they limp, or walk bent over, favor a shoulder or hip. Being from a family background of rodeo folks, I can spot a bronc rider, bulldogger, a roper, maybe even a pickup man, by the way they move, and don’t even have to look for a knee brace, missing fingers, or cast.
But how many of us notice how people are doing by their posture and demeanor? The fellow who doesn’t return your “good morning,” the woman with slumped shoulders and a sad face, the child who hangs back and doesn’t participate in group situations. You just know they need a smile, a compliment, and maybe even a short conversation.
One thing about getting old. We do understand some things now, and have time to move more slowly in this fast-paced world. Use your eyes and open your heart, even if you’re young.
Meet me here next week and meanwhile, do your best. Somebody might like it.