“Grandma, what’s good about getting old?” It wasn’t the question I minded, only because it was sad when he asked it. Although he was three, somehow he knew growing old was not fun.
In a world that values youth above life experience and insight, surviving the hardships weathered by age, in the evening of years, is unappealing even to a toddler.
It’s the third time I am facilitating the Life Long Learning memoir class offered for older adults by SUNY New Paltz. The best memoirs are usually about overcoming adversity. What a combined list the seniors in my classes have survived: deaths, suicides, cancers, mental illnesses, lost loves, betrayals, abusive relationships, economic downturns, divorces, estrangements from relatives, alcoholism, drug addiction, natural disasters and hardships not named. All overcome on some level, since there they sit in the room. The students are such positive, intelligent, interesting people. We should culminate the end of each semester with a party at Mohonk Tower where we all shake a fist at past challenges, all learned, withstood, now celebrated.
We are old fashioned. We still answer the door, also the phone. We respond to messages and have difficult conversations when ghosting would be easier.
“I answered the door. Two young Mormon men asked if they could come inside and share the blessings of their religion.”
“One of the benefits is that you will get to live in eternity with your relatives who have passed, one of them stated.
“Not a great selling point,” I replied.
It’s easier at 80 years old to accept you might not have had the desired parents you wished for when you were 12. Acceptance rhymes with transcendence.
A memoir student who had endured way more hardships than any of the others said, “It’s all been folded into my life story a long time ago. I am free.”
Older people do not become more conservative. With age, half the memoir students veered to the right, the other half veered to the left.
“It’s because we are less idealistic. We see how complex situations are, the folly of sureness, we see truth from both sides, like the Joni Mitchell’s song, ‘Both Sides Now’.”
After retirement it takes time to mourn the loss of meaningful work.
When enough time has passed, besides nostalgia, retirees also remember the difficulties. “I used to own a daycare center. I missed the children. When I felt terrible, I would ask myself, ‘Do you want to do all of it today, the parents, collecting the money, the hiring, firing, cleaning, legalities?
Nope. I don’t want to, I’ll just play with my grandson’.”
Most of the older adults I asked said the greatest benefit to getting old was freedom.
“I can do whatever I want. I can meditate, volunteer, also I can watch Married at First Sight at 10 a.m. on a Monday with a cup of coffee mixed with a few spoonfuls of schnapps.”
When you are old, the reality there is so little time in front and so much time behind is a constant reminder life will come to an end.
I met my husband, Sam Slotnick, when I was eleven years old. We have been together for 57 years. My greatest fear is being in the world without him. I do not believe in magical thinking. I know it’s an inevitable challenge ahead for one of us.
Yesterday. I indulged my guilty pleasure and went to Resorts World Hudson Valley in Newburgh. An elderly man sitting at the slot machine next to me carefully unfurled two pictures of his deceased wife, then strategically placed them in front, as if she was looking at the screen.
I asked, “Why are you doing that?”
“She brings me luck,” he said.
“Does it work?” I asked.
“She’s doing the best she can, I am a realist, but it just makes me happy to take her with me wherever I go. When I do, I am not so sad anymore. Maybe I will see her on the other side, maybe not. She’s my past. Who knows about the future. All I have is right now. I feel good in this moment. That is all there is.”
One never knows where and when, even in an unlikely place, the wisdom carried by an old person can enlighten the day.
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