I’m getting old. I know all the jokes. “It sure beats the alternative, ha, ha, ha.” That was a big one with the old guys down at the gas station when I was in high school. They’re all dead.

The problem with writing about aging is that it’s all been written. AARP sends out monthly missives telling us how to “enjoy this time” and “keep that mind sharp”. You know why they send that, don’t you? Cause you’re NOT enjoying this time and because your mind is NOT sharp. Great authors have tackled this one, too. Updike took us all through Rabbitt Angstrom’s agonizing fight with time. Phillip Roth wrote “Everyman” and summed up the inexorable march with, “Old age isn’t a battle: old age is a massacre.”

What can I possibly add to these stalwarts  of the American canon? Simply: this is happening to ME! 60 isn’t the new 30. 60 is fuckin 60 and I own it.

Every Sunday, for decades, I’ve read the NY Times obituaries. They’re fascinating. Really. I never miss. When I first started, I was of the age that I thought, if I died, people would see my age and rush through the notice to see what tragedy took someone so young and full of promise. Now, I’m pretty certain that people would read my obit and their comment would be, “I can’t believe that he had brothers and sisters who are still alive.”

So sad.

BODY

Gravity is a real bastard. Say what you want about the damaging sun, gravity is what destroys you. So far, I’ve pretty much held it to a draw as far as my body goes, but it’s a losing battle. I remember, years and years ago, we were having one of those group conversations in the gym that gym rats are prone to have. One guy said that for every decade that you age, you  need to add 15 minutes to your workout just to stay even. That sounded reasonable to me. I’m up to 7 hours.

I am sore constantly. I get up sore. I spend the day sore. I go to bed sore. I even sleep sore. You may say, “that’s no way to live”. Yes, it is. It is a way to live. I know because I’m living it. I view each day that I don’t exercise as the first day on that diabolical “slippery slope” to physical ruin. Makes no difference that I’ve been working out continually for my entire life and that I know that I always will. This kind of  daily drive and guilt is how that is done.

Years ago, Billy Crystal created a very funny character on SNL loosely based on Fernando Lamas. One of the tag lines that Fernando would purr was, “It is better to look good, darlin, than to feel good.” At age 20, that was hilarious. At age 60, it’s become my mantra.

Mind

I’m not seeing dramatic impacts on my mental acuity, yet. I think I’m still pretty sharp. Of course, I’d be the last to know, wouldn’t I? My grandmother spent years in a nursing home suffering from dementia and the whole time she thought she was right on top of it.

The problem is that you forget things – at the most inopportune times. We’ve all heard about these “senior moments” and the incidents are mostly easily dismissed, but, in the back of your mind, is the stark reality that forgetfulness is the first, and primary, symptom of Alzheimer’s. Alzheimer’s deserves every bit of its reputation and is a frightening concern of everyone growing older. For most of us, though, these little incidents are benign and just little slices of life as you travel down the path.

Face

Sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder, “Who the hell is that?” Now, that response might be attributable to those mind issues discussed previously, but mostly, I think, the shock is because that is a different face looking back at me than the one I grew up with. Wrinkles! Not laugh lines. Wrinkles. And they don’t make me look distinguished, although there is a certain effect when combined with my boyish grin that cannot be denied. Mostly, though, wrinkles are not enhancements that you seek. No one ever said, “Thank God, I’m finally starting to develop some wrinkles.” I guess wrinkles are just a consequence of spending a certain number of years on this earth, but they’re unwelcome just the same.

Solution

I actually assuaged much of my aging angst, albeit serendipitously. I moved to a place where everyone is older than me. That’s right – I’m now “The Kid”. It’s great. Each morning I put on my baseball cap, hop on my bike, and zoom around the neighborhood. Each afternoon, you can find me and my faithful dog exploring the local woods and marshes, I actually think I heard once, as I whizzed by, “That kid’s crazy.” I’m still waiting for, “Shouldn’t he be in school?”

So, I’m heading downhill. No doubt about it, but as Jack Soo once said on “Barney Miller”, “I’m going kicking and screaming the whole way.” You can fight it. You won’t win, but I kinda like the fight. The one truth among all the maxims about aging is that you’re as young as you feel and I feel pretty young right now.

Still sore, though.