When I look at old people, I realize two things. Once they
were like me and one day, I'm going to be like them,
b'ezras Hashem.
I look into an old person's face and try to imagine them
without the wrinkles. Then I look at mine and try to remember
it without the wrinkles. If golden age is a second childhood
for some, then middle age is a second adolescence for me. I'm
trying to mesh the identity of my younger, vivacious self
with the woman of greater wisdom and responsibility (and,
yes, wrinkles) and less time and energy that I am
becoming.
Two events occurred this week on the periphery of my life,
both involving old people. They are both very old, live
independently and their minds seem to be in attendance. But
being very old, they are physically vulnerable and dependent
on other people to help them. One of them got locked into her
house and another needed an errand run. How many times a day
do we take for granted the fact that we are fully mobile,
that we can run an errand by ourselves and complain, yet?
I had a conversation with a friend I've known for twenty
years and we were asking each other how it is that we got so
old. Okay, so we're not so-o-o old but we remember when we
were both 23. And although I wouldn't want to be 23 again,
well, there were advantages to youth. I can imagine how it
must be to look at 23 from 30 or 40 years away.
There is a gift in all this as there is in everything.
It's about time. This old lady gave me a clock to replace for
her. It was a wind-up alarm clock. They still make them. It
wasn't an antique but I couldn't figure out how to work it.
It was too simplistically complicated.
There's a lot to learn from the elderly: taking life slowly,
paying in cash, and being content with what worked twenty
years ago. There's a lot to learn from the elderly, like
their wisdom, to have compassion and gratitude for our
ability to run right by them. Life, however, is running right
by us while we're running by them. So maybe we should walk
alongside them for a while and pass the time of day.
My son used to sit down next to old people sitting seemingly
endlessly on benches, and talk to them. He said that's what
they needed. It's funny that I learned the most empathy for
golden agers from my young child.
Next time you see an older person, please remember two
certainties of life: Once they were like you and one day,
you're going to be like them. They remember what it was like
to be like you and they know what it will be like for you to
be like them.
