Life is change, how it differs from the rocks. … My life is to survive, and be alive.
The Jefferson Airplane
Over the past few months, two or three times, I’ve seen an older guy around town who looks really familiar, but I just can’t quite place him or remember how I know him, if I even do know him. He is friendly-looking, with a pleasant face and something inside tells me I liked this person, or maybe I would like him if we haven’t actually met yet. It’s kind of an odd feeling.
Last weekend, near Marion Street in downtown Oak Park, I saw the guy again, across the street, walking in a small group of people. I stared at him on the sidewalk, and our eyes met. There was a moment of pseudo-recognition, and then he yelled out across the street at me, “I know you but I can’t remember how.” I yelled back, “Yeah, same here. I know you but I can’t remember how.” We both continued walking.
I’m getting used to drawing a blank on something. That’s happening more and more, and my contemporaries and I chuckle knowingly and nod in agreement as we share this common experience. It seems we converse in half-finished sentences punctuated by squinting eyes, snapping fingers and exasperated exclamations of “You know, what’s his name?” or “That movie about the guy in the car.”
Sometimes I get a creeping discomfort about the possibility that I have stepped onto a memory-lapse moving sidewalk that has no exit except for dementia and having someone else change my diapers. In our worrisome culture, this is the default setting.
“Caution. The moving sidewalk is ending. Caution, the moving sidewalk is ending.” And on and on and on …
So what else is new? Changes in my life and my abilities as I age have always been part of life. I am only recently owning up to them, or willing to think about them — let alone talk or write about them. Fearing or denying what is known to be absolutely inevitable just doesn’t make a lot of sense. But that doesn’t stop most of us.
The moving sidewalk to hell is a self-fulfilling prophecy. We can reframe our views on forgetting things and our views on aging to be accepting and kind, even embracing. What is it we do remember? What makes life special? What is unforgettable? Life is intense and heartfelt, especially as we age. And as we slow down just a bit and start to actually feel the journey, not just getting from point A to point B, we can smile and appreciate and be alive.
William F. May suggests we consider aging a mystery rather than a problem. He says the question we need to ask is “How are we going to behave toward it?” rather than “What are we going to do about it?” May contends that the elderly need the virtue of humility to overcome the sting of humiliation that often seems to accompany aging.
Marc Blesoff is a former Oak Park village trustee, co-founder of the Windmills softball organization, co-creator of Sunday Night Dinner, a retired criminal defense attorney, and a novice beekeeper. He currently facilitates Conscious Aging Workshops and Wise Aging Workshops in the Chicagoland area.