As I approached my 80th birthday earlier this year, I found myself facing a reality I had never expected.
Longevity among male members of my family was far from a given; my own father passed away at the age of 53, shortly after my 8th birthday. In addition, I knew, from a quick study many years ago of life expectancy charts in the World Almanac, that a white American male born in 1942 had a decent chance of making it to 72 and a half, with anything beyond that a gift, pure and simple.
My first thought, as my family prepared to celebrate my big day, was the famous exchange in the classic movie “On Golden Pond” between Norman, the Henry Fonda character, and Katherine Hepburn’s character as they discussed his upcoming 80th birthday. When she tries to console him as simply being middle-aged, he responds, “For God’s sake, Ethel, people don’t live to be 160!”
No, they don’t — and I do realize that by any measure I am considered elderly, although, to be honest, I’m not a fan of that particular word. Happy to be a senior citizen but nothing more.
Adjectives aside, I have learned through my own aging experience a few realities that those of you younger than I may find useful as you approach the world of the super-senior.
First and foremost, I have discovered that it’s not as bad as I might have feared. For example, on the positive side, I have been blessed with good physical health, in spite of a diet including what some might describe as absurd amounts of dairy products — milk and ice cream — and minimal amounts of veggies.
In addition, my mind seems to have aged somewhat gracefully, never as sharp as I might have wished, but no worse for the wear. Hopefully, my recent switch to a fairly exacting exercise regime, combined with my newfound love of storytelling, will help to stabilize those critically important components of a senior citizen’s well-being.
That said, being blessed with a long life, while clearly beating the alternative, does have its challenges.
To wit, and most painfully, hardly a week goes by without learning of the death of a childhood friend, a high school classmate, a college buddy, a fellow Vietnam veteran or a business partner. Compounding that loss, I have discovered that making new friends with shared common interests is not as easy as it once was during my younger years.
In addition, for those of us who have enjoyed our careers, I have found that it’s not easy to cede your former responsibilities to the next generation. Yes, you know in your heart that your children and their generation are fully capable of leading the way, a comforting feeling for sure; however, it can also be a source of frustration, even hurt, as you come to the realization that your input no longer carries the weight it once did.
I have wrestled with these thoughts for close to a year now and have finally come to the conclusion that the best approach is to let those frustrations go, enjoy all the contributions that you can still make to society, be proud of your family and their accomplishments, and be thankful for all the many blessings you have been given.
As Paul McCartney reminds us of the advice from his mum: “When the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines on me. Let it be.”
George Motz is a resident of Quogue and the village’s former mayor.
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