Now that I have reached a somewhat venerable age, people have begun to ask me what my secret is. I flatter myself into assuming that they mean I seem oh-so-much-younger than the numbers suggest — “Younger than Springtime” as my friend Gordon Schoewe used to say — and, when pressed, I’ve been giving answers. Of sorts.

“I’ve decided to “just say yes,” say I. That’s not altogether true, of course. I’ve been trying for years to learn those other words to live by — that “just say no” phrase. My recent decision has been to simply stop fighting my natural inclination to try to do it all. It’s far easier and much more me to say “yes” to almost everything that comes along. Besides, it fits right into some excellent advice I recently received from the most logical of all sources: a calendar!

It was one of those ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’ mini-calendars and it told me very clearly, “A person has to be busy to be alive.” It didn’t say “and vice versa” but it was definitely implied. Those of us living on the Peninsula have no trouble with busy. In fact, the opposite is true. I try to limit myself by following a self-imposed rule to accomplish three things every day — two of the maintenance sort (like do the laundry or pay a bill) and one brand new thing. Of course, if an unexpected opportunity comes along, I don’t limit myself to three! I just say “Yes!”

Pull Quote

I try to limit myself by following a self-imposed rule to accomplish three things every day — two of the maintenance sort (like do the laundry or pay a bill) and one brand new thing. Of course, if an unexpected opportunity comes along, I don’t limit myself to three! I just say ‘Yes!’

I do believe that my mother is my Old Age Role Model. She was trying new things well into her nineties. Nyel and I came back from a trip once to see her picture in the paper under the headline “Motorcycle Grandmamas burn up the Peninsula Blacktop.” And there was mom in a motorcycle helmet hanging on to Bear and laughing in delight! What a gal!

So… can you define elderly?Increasingly, in conversations with friends and loved ones, however, the word “elderly” seems to be creeping in and I find myself of several minds about that. There’s the old expression “age is just a number” and I’m not a bit ashamed of saying I’ve now entered my 89th year — in fact maybe a bit proud that I’ve survived this long. But some of my contemporaries tell me that we’re only as old as we feel and that I shouldn’t “succumb” to a label and yadda yadda yadda. Like being elderly is a bad thing.

So, I looked for a definition of this seemingly controversial term. According to the National Library of Medicine published by the Center for Biotechnology Information (whew!) “Aging, an inevitable process, is commonly measured by chronological age and, as a convention, a person aged 65 years or more is often referred to as ‘elderly.”

Really? You are considered “elderly” at 65? Who makes this stuff up anyway? (And why would anyone actually write that aging is an inevitable process? I’m sorry… but duh!!!) I thought that 65 was the traditional retirement age and at that point you were considered a “senior citizen.” I also thought (silly me) that “elderly” implied some sort of wisdom which accumulates, somehow, along with the years spent on this planet. Exceedingly Silly Me!

And what about Old Age?

I don’t remember my mom mentioning that ‘e’ word either. It must have been right up there with other topics that were not discussed in polite conversation — politics, sex, religion and, for the most part, medical conditions. These days, when I get together with friends, the discussion inevitably turns to matters of health — arthritis, blood pressure, crepey skin, thinning hair and chin whiskers and concern for our failing memories. Those topics just slip into our conversations whether we intend to go there or not.

I don’t mind one bit learning about the status of my friends’ latest ailments. Besides being concerned for them and maybe, just maybe, being able to provide some helpful bit of information or advice, I find it comforting to file such tidbits away against the day that a friend’s experience might help me out. If nothing else, I find so many of their attitudes and approaches to aging inspirational. I only hope that I can emulate the dignity and courage of the people I know best and admire most. Which brings to mind another Mom Story…

She had asked me to pick her up from her nail appointment and when I arrived her nail technician said quietly, “Did you notice?” “What???” I was gormless, as usual. “Your mom’s eyebrows are navy blue!” It wasn’t until a good many years later — when I was in my late 60s and mom, by then deep into her own world of dementia though still making fashion statements at the nursing home — that I discovered my very first secret of old age. I could no longer distinguish between my navy-blue socks and my black ones. Cataracts were the culprit — and I was so sorry I hadn’t spoken to her about those eyebrows. Luckily, though, she did have cataract surgery not too long after the eyebrow incident and, as long as she was interested in enhancing her eyebrows, her color choices were perfect.

It’s with that first glance of myself in the mirror each morning that I often hear mom’s sighing whisper — “Oh, the Secrets of Old Age.” And though I am, by now, discovering a few of those secrets for myself, more importantly, I am discovering the Blessings of Old Age. One of the greatest blessings, as I see it, is the opportunity to “know” my children as they march toward their own “golden years.” And, of course, if you are blessed with grandchildren and great-grandchildren and even great-greats, seeing them grow up and take their place in the family and in the community is a peek into the future that is the best kind of blessing of all.