Having reached the milestone of a 60th birthday, I've heard my share of "age is just a number" and "age doesn't matter" euphemisms. And I beg to differ.
I spent an evening at my sister's house recently, entertained by her new grandkids, two month old Zoe and three month old James. At one point someone laid them, side-by-side, on a blanket on the floor for a photo op and it was immediately clear that those little babies weren't the same age. They were both adorable, with their wild kicking and occasional smiles. But James had a real heft behind his kicks, making resounding thumps that overpowered the clicks of the camera. Zoe, with a month's less milk intake, had a much daintier kick, making nary a sound as her little feet hit the floor. Whether defined by weight, girth, head circumference, or activity level, the difference a month makes was obvious.
And I'm pretty sure that if my own six month old grandson had been available to lay down on the blanket, the difference of another three months would have been obvious too. Mainly because he would have crawled right off of that blanket in a straight line towards the nearest remote control.
Jump ahead some several hundreds of months and lay me down on that same blanket next to a 40 year old and a 50 year old and there would be differences there too. No longer defined by such milestones as babbling, blowing bubbles, or rolling over (although these might make for interesting tests), it would be no less clear that age is more than just a number.
It is the accumulation of skills and life lessons. Accomplishments and disappointments. Memories and regrets. But also, gray hair and liver spots. Bifocals and bad knees. Wrinkles and wisdom--duly noting the fact that letting someone lay me on the floor at the age of 60 might tend to contradict that last one.
No one ever tries to stop the natural progression of milestones in the early years, where each new change is cause for celebration. And although we may want to, and even try to, we can't stop the milestones in the later years either. We can work at keeping ourselves alert and healthy, but we can't keep ourselves young. And we can't stop the changes that the months and years bring. We can only meet them head on with the same determination shown by the two month old Zoe as she valiantly tried to roll over. It may not be as much fun watching the evolution of our own bodies as it is our grandkids', but it's no less real.
I vividly remember being young, but I am not, and never will be, 60 years young. Age matters. As a 40 year old, I probably could have jumped right up from that blanket. As a 50 year old, I'm pretty sure I could have gotten up unaided. But as a sixty year old, I'm likely to be apologizing for falling asleep and then asking how I got down there.
And I'd sure appreciate a hand in getting up. But get up I will. Because I need to find that six month old. He's got my remote control.
I spent an evening at my sister's house recently, entertained by her new grandkids, two month old Zoe and three month old James. At one point someone laid them, side-by-side, on a blanket on the floor for a photo op and it was immediately clear that those little babies weren't the same age. They were both adorable, with their wild kicking and occasional smiles. But James had a real heft behind his kicks, making resounding thumps that overpowered the clicks of the camera. Zoe, with a month's less milk intake, had a much daintier kick, making nary a sound as her little feet hit the floor. Whether defined by weight, girth, head circumference, or activity level, the difference a month makes was obvious.
And I'm pretty sure that if my own six month old grandson had been available to lay down on the blanket, the difference of another three months would have been obvious too. Mainly because he would have crawled right off of that blanket in a straight line towards the nearest remote control.
Jump ahead some several hundreds of months and lay me down on that same blanket next to a 40 year old and a 50 year old and there would be differences there too. No longer defined by such milestones as babbling, blowing bubbles, or rolling over (although these might make for interesting tests), it would be no less clear that age is more than just a number.
It is the accumulation of skills and life lessons. Accomplishments and disappointments. Memories and regrets. But also, gray hair and liver spots. Bifocals and bad knees. Wrinkles and wisdom--duly noting the fact that letting someone lay me on the floor at the age of 60 might tend to contradict that last one.
No one ever tries to stop the natural progression of milestones in the early years, where each new change is cause for celebration. And although we may want to, and even try to, we can't stop the milestones in the later years either. We can work at keeping ourselves alert and healthy, but we can't keep ourselves young. And we can't stop the changes that the months and years bring. We can only meet them head on with the same determination shown by the two month old Zoe as she valiantly tried to roll over. It may not be as much fun watching the evolution of our own bodies as it is our grandkids', but it's no less real.
I vividly remember being young, but I am not, and never will be, 60 years young. Age matters. As a 40 year old, I probably could have jumped right up from that blanket. As a 50 year old, I'm pretty sure I could have gotten up unaided. But as a sixty year old, I'm likely to be apologizing for falling asleep and then asking how I got down there.
And I'd sure appreciate a hand in getting up. But get up I will. Because I need to find that six month old. He's got my remote control.
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Comments
R♥
A good post! I enjoyed...
And thank you for the kind comments on my skating story.
I go lost that night.
I didn't need glasses.
That icy night I did tho.
Now I use spectacles.
I could not read map.
Eyes went blurry.
I said` Bye youth.
I am a elder too.
My GrandChildren etc., keep me feeling as an innocent child. I never grieve my dying.
My lame passage.
I 'hear' your love.
I wish to be 100.
O centenarians.
Be a nice crank.
We live forever.
Toddlers teach,
heal, love, fart,
and issort`
`
"therapy."
`
Three years olds and seven years old are (in my case?) rewards for never having strangled my three children. You Love your blood children -
`
You glory in Grand Children.
My 'therapist' quote Hermit,
Kermit, Miss Piggy, and Burt.
Never teach a child to burp.
No sit in grape jelly seat-jam.
Quote Homer/Mr. Rogers,
George Constaza, Red Hen,
revel in twilight days, amen.
Fusun--Thanks. I'm going to look up your posts on aging.
zanelle--yep. Babies bring it all to the forefront.
Stim--I'm giving science until 70 now.
Vivian--I like your attitude.
Mary--"undiscovered country"--I like that.
Art--Love the poem. I will revel.
Firechick--Thanks (see comment to daisy jane)
Horace Rumpole - You made me grin.
`
There's no pleasure on earth worth sacrificing
for the sake of an extra five years in the geriatric ward
of The Sunset Old People's Home -
`
I though. . .
Pa Pa and Ma Ma see a reflection in a rain puddle.
They are convinced a face-lift won't help one iota.
Gracefully
`
Try to age with Gratitude.
No join any Elderly Gang.
Wear a`Alpaca Sock Hat.
R
" You look maahvelous dahling!"
.
Lezlie
Unbreakable--You're right. Grandkids make it all okay.
Ande--Thank you. Not getting down may be the secret.
skypix--Amen.
Miguela--Slower for sure. And pictures can hide a lot.
Lezlie--I hated turning 60, but I think you may be right. There is a certain freedom.
Cathy--You've got the winning attitude.
C Berg--Yoga I might try. Belly dancing probably not. I remember writing a post about an expanding waist a while back.
Scupperr--Thanks. I like Zoe too.
geezer--I agree. Part of me is stuck at about 18 (maybe 20's) too. But not all of me.
Deborah--The light screen's going on my wish list.
Persistent--Yeah, slow healing. That's another one. Hope it's going well.
Wonderful post, once I accepted this truth, getting older got better. And you look great for any age.
Eva--It probably won't help, but there will be a time (all too soon, it seems) when 50 will look pretty good. So live it up.
l'heure--I'm with you on the trade.
great post. good writing. nice to meet you.
I LOVED your analogy of the babies on the floor. You gave me a completely different way to think about aging. Great piece!
Bea--You're absolutely right about the remote. I'm hoping he might be able to show me how to put pictures on my computer too.
divorce bard--Don't let your imagination go wild. You're down there with the babies too.