A Touch of Gray

There’s a sobering dynamic at work in the world lately – everyone around me seems to be getting older.  I went to a family funeral this week and almost without exception, every relative, friend, and extended family member was visibly grayer and more grizzled than the last time I laid eyes on them.   What’s happening?!  I’ll be reaching that ominous Social Security milestone in three short months, but surely I’M not visibly aging …. right?  My trusted hairdresser keeps the silver from showing, and these extra pounds I’ve packed on are always artfully camouflaged under clothing.  No one sees any of THAT … RIGHT??  My contemporaries and my direct elders, though?  What’s up?  How did the years pass so quickly?  And how do I now find myself at a crossroads of sorts, when I don’t feel any older on the inside than I did at twenty or thirty? 

I looked around the room during lunch and was humbled and awed by what I saw.  The Reese siblings, who once were nine in number, are now down to four, and at one point the full quartet was seated together at one table.  They're exact replicas of their younger selves, plus that mysterious layer of whatever it is the decades add.  These are the heroes of my childhood, the people I watched and looked up to and tried to emulate.  Who gave them permission to change and become vulnerable?  

There were many in the room whose age corresponds to mine --- the kids I grew up with, the ones who were forever going to be funny and goofy and entertaining and lighthearted.  They’re still all of those things, but why did I have to look twice … or three times … in order to discern who I was seeing?  I saw the same sort of quizzical looks when their gaze landed on me --- how very insulting!! 

The babies of the family are now married or otherwise have lives of their own, and I saw clearly the weight of responsibility where once none existed.  

At the far end of one table sat college kids --- atheletes --- sharing moral support like the extended family they’ve become.  Such beautiful perfectly-turned-out people.  As they sat there talking, surrounded by their elders, did they have the slightest clue that they are at the pinnacle of their physical perfection, their energies, their relative innocence about life?  It very likely will never be better for them than right now.  I wanted to say to them, “Wring the last drop of vitality and happiness out of every single day you’re on earth!”  But that’s the sort of thing older people pull on younger ones all the time, and it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference anyway --- we all have to figure out life for ourselves.   

  

The uncle whose home-going we were celebrating seemed to have learned the principle well.  He truly enjoyed his life and was a joy to those around him.  His 87 years were filled with laughter and silliness and much responsible living.  He loved people and knew how to make them laugh.  He loved his family and gradually learned how to tell them so in ways big and small.  He loved his wife of 62 years and was seemingly ready to be done with living when she reluctantly left him behind.  He contributed to the life of his community, helped his neighbors, and was a constant in his church.  He served his country in WWII and earned a Purple Heart that he never talked about, which is so typical of the men of that war.  His wonderful smile and the twinkle in his eyes never dimmed.  He was “good people.”  The kind of people we truly miss when they go, because they are so few.

All of us, when we’re young, are subjected to admonitions from our elders to get the most out of life because it doesn’t last very long.  We don’t doubt their words, really, we just don’t comprehend them.  Something inside says we’re hearing the truth, but at 20 or 30 or 40, we can’t quite envision ourselves with gray hair, wrinkles, or nagging aches and pains.  And that’s a good thing.  Who wants to think “old” all their life?  Each stage is valuable in and of itself, to be enjoyed and savored and appreciated.  And if we miss something?  No worries, really.  Life doesn’t end at 50 or 60, and our interest in it doesn’t shut down just because everything isn’t exactly as it was.  For as long as we have breath there will be wonders yet to see, to keep us engaged and moving forward.  One thing ends and another takes its place.  

When my Grandma Wagner was in her late 80s or early 90s she related a dream to us.  She had dreamed that she was nineteen years old again and dancing in her Maidenform bra.  Now, I seriously doubt Maidenform bras existed yet when she was that age, but through the magic of dreams she got to dance the night away in just such a garment.  The part of the story that lodged in my heart was when she said that being nineteen again was just like being older --- she was the very same person either way.   That truth was never more real to me than yesterday with my family.  There’s something very important here that I can’t afford to miss --- it's the sort of thing that will determine how I live every day.

 Arnold "Gabby" Hartnett 1924 - 2012