By Bob Chrisman
Last fall, determined to catch the color changes in the leaves, I watched them turn from green to yellow, orange, and red. I would sit on the window seat in the front room and write about the colors.
One day…suddenly it seemed…the leaves had all turned. When did it happen? I had been watching everyday.
I sat in the window seat even more determined to watch the leaves fall. Occasionally a leaf would let go of the branch and float to the ground to join other leaves. I didn’t remember all of those leaves on the ground yesterday. Did they fall during the night so no one would realize that winter waited around the corner?
One morning I looked out and found that almost all of the leaves lay in yards and in the street. Again I had missed the time it happened.
Growing older has worked just like that. One day I noticed a gray hair. The next day a whole head of gray hair greeted me as I looked in the bathroom mirror. A single wrinkle on my forehead disappeared among the many lines that developed overnight. My varicose vein on my right thigh became a veritable road map of veins. My waistline doubled in size.
I felt old, but only in my body. Then older crept into my mind.
A few months before I retired, an employee appeared in my office. “Great music. Who is it?”
“Petula Clark.”
“Soooooooo? Is she from your generation?” My generation? I recoiled at the idea that I had joined a generation.
“Don’t you remember ‘Downtown’? ‘The Other Man’s Grass is Always Greener’?” I searched my mind for other titles.
She put her hands on her hips. “No, I don’t know her. And don’t you dare ask me where I was when John Kennedy was assassinated. I wasn’t even born yet.”
Thus I came to the knowledge that many of my cultural references meant nothing to a lot of the people who worked with me. I had grown old.
I never thought I would live past 40, but that birthday came and went. Turning 50 changed the way I viewed myself. No longer young, middle age had overtaken me. I celebrated the 56th anniversary of my birth last Saturday. I may live to see 60.
I am older.
But, you know what? I like it. Despite the aches in my joints when the weather turns damp and cool like today, not feeling like a part of the current culture frees me to do what I want to do without worrying about what other people will think of me. Maybe this “getting older” thing will free me from most of my inhibitions.
The rules have changed. I am old and can do what I want with my life. I don’t have family to account to. My friends won’t be surprised by what I do (well, most of them won’t).
Because I am older, I know now that I have a very short time to live. I must get on with my life’s purpose (whatever that may be), not because I’m desperate, but because I want to do the things I came to do. I want to live each moment regardless of how many I may have left.
Older has become the sand rushing downward through the neck of the hour glass. Older has restored the preciousness of this life. Older is what I am right now.
Older.
Bob Chrisman is a Kansas City, Missouri writer whose piece Hands, about his mother’s hands, appeared last month on red Ravine. Growing Older is based on a writing practice that Bob did on WRITING TOPIC – GROWING OLDER.
I wondered where Bob were going with this when I read the opening the first time I read this piece , but then the transition to noticing hair slowly turn gray was so lovely. Bob is so on target in his description about the changes in your body, the cultural references (my next-door neighbor who is half my age can’t name all the Beatles) and the determination to press on toward your life’s purpose (whatever that may be). I have those exact feelings and thoughts. I, too, want to press on toward my life’s purpose and realize more and more the older I get that it has so little to do with power and money.
I recently read the following description of growing older in the poet Lucia Perillo’s book of essays, “I’ve Heard the Vultures Singing”: “Time shuttles us from station to station like a train, and I wonder how it does the job so quietly, without the start-up moan and the screech of brakes.” Very much like the leaves changing color.
I remember clearly last October while walking my dog in the woods how beautiful the trees were. I stopped and thought, “If I’m lucky, I only have 30-35 more Fall seasons in my life.” I acknowledged that I was on the downward slope toward fewer fall seasons. I stood there and cried for a bit. And then I simply walked on.
LikeLike
Bob, I LOVED Petula Clark back then. Remember, Don’t Sleep in the Subway Darlin’, Don’t Stand In the Pouring Ra-a-a-a–i–n by Petula? It was kind of an obscure one. (Remember they used to call her Pet?) I wonder if she’s still around the music scene. If she is, I wouldn’t be surprised if she popped up on American Idol as one of the mentors. Lulu (To Sir With Love) was on there last year!
When I just read this piece again, it struck me how comfortable you seem with where you are right now. Like you’re coming to an acceptance around the aging process. I’ve noticed that, too, over the last 3 or 4 years. I’m thankful for that. Because it seems like a waste of time to worry too much about it. The aging process is going to go on with or without me.
That said, I do want to admit that sometimes when I stop to take a long look in the mirror, I scare myself. I just don’t feel as old inside as my body and face look on the outside. Sometimes I actually jump when I see my reflection. 8)
I really like the part about how freeing it is to live outside of peer and societal pressures to slow down or change the aging process. It IS very freeing. But not everyone chooses to do that. Do you have any insights about why some grow to accept the aging body and mind, and other’s want to change it, to stop or slow down the process?
LikeLike
I loved the gentle truth in the metaphors of leaves turning colors and leaves falling off the branches to the dawning that one is growing older. Even your voice carries that slow cadence of how the aging process happens.
These two lines are profound: Older has become the sand rushing downward through the neck of the hour glass. Older has restored the preciousness of this life.
I’m now at that place before 50, right before it’s going to hit me. Wow, older. I think I’m still clinging to a particular youth, kind of pushing away the generational labels. It’s an interesting place to be. I feel like I’m straddling.
LikeLike
I have watched some acquaintances fight the aging process without much success and end up in despair over the fact that they look older. Plastic surgery doesn’t work forever. Tummy tucks and butt lifts don’t either. I think these people have fallen victim to the culture’s focus on the young. Ironic, isn’t it, that at a time when the majority of people in the U.S. will be in their 50’s and 60’s that we are still idealizing youth and young people?
I think that people at peace with themselves can accept the aging body and mind as a part of the life process. Focus on the moment. That’s all we really have.
I also remember my friends who have died before they turned 55. I know that some of them would have loved to be older and alive even if that meant being older. I am grateful for the time.
About Petula Clark, she is still alive and singing. In 1998 Queen Elizabeth made her a Commander of the Order of the British Empire (CBE). She has her own fan site on the web (petnet). I had forgotten the story about her NBC special when she and Harry Belafonte sang a duet and she touched him. One of the sponsors of the show wanted a re-take of the duet without her (a white woman) touching him (a black man). To her credit she and her producer husband destroyed all the other takes of the duet and wouldn’t delete the touch…the first between races on TV. It aired nationwide in 1968 and won several national awards.
LikeLike
Sharonimo,
The poet, Lucia Perillo, captured the moment so beautifully. I will have to add her to my list of poets I must read. Thanks for the quote.
At times I feel the sadness that I have fewer seasons to experience than I already have enjoyed. At the same time it makes the ones I have so priceless. Walk on, dear friend.
I am reminded of an old hymn we sang in the church of my childhood, “Work for the night is coming when man works no more.” I think of the chorus to this hymn when I don’t want to write and then I sit down and write.
LikeLike
ybonesy,
Jump into the pool of older! The water is warm and gentle and you have many friends who are already here to catch you. Or wait awhile, but know that we will still be here waiting for you to join us when you decide to jump.
LikeLike
Bob, I didn’t know that about Petula Clark and Harry Belafonte (Comment #4). She took a stand. I’ll have to check out her fan site. She was really popular back then. It’s good to hear she is still going strong (and a CBE to boot).
I’m thinking now about pushing away generational labels, as ybonesy mentions. I still did that in my 40’s, too. Something happened when I moved into the 50’s. Perspective changed somehow. The 40’s are a time of a lot of transition and discovery about what’s important to us. I liked my 40’s. But I feel more solid in who I am in my 50’s. I haven’t thought yet about being 60. I might save that for a few years down the road.
LikeLike
Oh, I love this post, Bob. I, too, have tried so many times to witness the changing of the seasons…really focusing on the leaves. And then suddenly, they’ve changed. We don’t have leaves in Minnesota, yet, so I’m doing it right now. I was glad to hear that even your watching at the window didn’t help. I know it isn’t just me.
When I see someone older than me embracing aging (not coloring their hair, not wearing their daughter’s fashions, not trying to talk like they’re 20), I honestly find them so much more beautiful. Jamie Lee Curtis was on an AARP cover recently with a graying head of hair. It looked beautiful.
And, like you, I love not having to pretend for my peers. There are a lot of high school and college students who work seasonally at the State Fair. I often watch them moving in packs, laughing at the same jokes, needing to feel and look the same as everyone else. I don’t miss it.
I can tell you don’t, either.
LikeLike
well, I am from KC also–I thought all the old people lived in Independence. 🙂 good piece, enjoyed it
LikeLike
Bob, great piece; & I especially like what you added in comment #6, about assurance to others that “older” doesn’t have to mean “worse,” but hopefully means “better” and that there are lots of us that are already there, and doing just fine, thank you!
I decided on adding a new career to my retirement years, and it is rewarding. The opportunity was serendipitous, and I did ponder the decision to begin something new, “at my age,” but I love what I’m doing now. My “boss,” is a woman young enough to be my daughter, and I did have one rude awakening when, about a year ago, during a converstion with her. I foolishly said, “I don’t think I look almost 70, do you?”
She got a “deer in the headlights” look in her eyes and didn’t even answer! But I realized that WAS her answer…she didn’t need to add words. I might not have thought I looked my age, but obviously I do. Oh well, it doesn’t bother me. One of the nicest compliments I ever received was years ago, when I was driving a car full of teens to a theatrical “gig”, and we were having a great time. One of them said, “Oh, Mrs.
—-, you’re just a teeanager in a middle aged body!”
Or, as I tell my brother, who, at age 74, still enjoys riding his motor bike up steep hills in California, “You may grow old, but I don’t think you’ll ever grow up!”
My wish for any and all is that you remain young in your mind and spirit…that’s where it counts most of all!
LikeLike
Scot, we old people in KC need to get out more and show ourselves. Glad you enjoyed the piece.
Oliverowl, my guess would be that your “boss” was stunned to realize that someone 70 years old could look as good as you do. Such prejudice exists in our culture about getting “old” that people picture those of us over 50 as decrepit, sickly creatures in wheelchairs with our legs covered in blankets to keep us warm. The fact that we enjoy life (in many ways that young people cannot because of their youth), ride our motor bikes up hills (when we should confine ourselves to riding in flat parking lots), can relate to younger people (despite our advanced ages), and live life to the fullest (at a time we should be concentrating on dying) flies in the face of assumptions made about “old” people.
I like to think that I am old in mind and spirit but more fully alive in every aspect than I have ever been in my life.
LikeLike
Loved this, Bob. Watching the leaves slowly change color, die and fall to the ground. If only I felt as comfortable with myself doing the same.
Some days, I am grateful not to be sub-40. I dont miss the predatory glances, hoots, and howls from men on the street. I love that I am much more of a smart ass at 60 than Ive ever been before. Im stronger now in every way than I was before I turned 40. I love that. I wouldnt trade that strength for a younger body or face.
– and yet as you know I am one of those who gave into the cultural pressure (even though, yeah, I do know better) and had my face lifted. I had wanted to do it for years. It was like an itch. So now, five months later, that itch is gone, and that is worth something, I suppose. But I look in the mirror and, guess what? I am still 60, and still look older than I feel. Do I wish I hadnt spent all that time and money? Yeah, I suppose, maybe. And yet, in a way, it has helped me relax some about getting old. (Not just older, but old.) I wont be doing any more plastic surgeries. There isnt any way not to fade and eventually fall off the branch. Some days I accept that, feel as comfortable as a leaf about it. Other days, I want to do that “rage rage against the dying of the light” routine. I am in love with life and I guess the face lift was a dramatic way to try to hang onto it. What I really want is to be wide awake until the instant I die. I want to finish my book and figure out what else Im about. I want lots of time to be with my children and grandchildren, my dogs. I want to live long enough to see what all of them do with their lives, how their stories turn out.
There is no surgical cure for loss. I think maybe I should embroider that on a piece of muslin and hang it on my bedroom wall so I dont forget again.
LikeLike
Bob, What a wonderful read! So much of what you wrote about rings true to me! I did my own writing practice on the posts on growing older many weeks ago. I was so surprised to reread my own practice a week later & discover that much of it was written about the younger people in my life & how much older that they have become.
I will be 53 in less than a month. My husband turned 50 this year. I think I got my greatest compliment from a 4 year old just yesterday. My husband & I were babysitting for 2 of our granson’s step brothers. My husband had gone to the restroom & the 4 year old asked me where my “Dad” went! What a hoot!
I like the season changing direction this read went. When did it happen? Time flies by & we make the best of it. It might feel as though it happened overnight, but truth is we are as young as we feel. A cliche, I know, but oh so true! I don’t dwell on my own aging process. What a miserable person I would be if I did so. I make the most of every day that I am rewarded with. I am happier than I have ever been in my life!
Great read! D
LikeLike
This was lovely, Bob. I have noticed the growing older phenomenon, although I’m 20 years younger than you. The people I work with don’t understand my cultural references. I talk of 80s television and realize they were toddlers, if they were even yet born.
Growing older has let me put unimportant things aside. I haven’t gotten to the point of wearing black socks with sandals, as my old man did, but I care less about being a fashion plate.
LikeLike
jude,
As you know I have opinions about everything, but those are for my own life only. You wanted a face lift. You got one. You learned something. Enough said.
We do rage against the dying light instead of living our lives. I find myself doing that sometimes, but I hope that I am getting away from that rage more and more. You will be able to tell me.
LikeLike
alittlediddy,
With my age came a new awareness of the precisouness of my life. I don’t want to feel young. I want to be aware and to be in the moment as much as possible. Those times are when I am the most alive.
Thanks for commenting. By the way, Happy Birthday!
LikeLike
Stevo,
You will know that you have given up “fashion plate” status when you wear black socks with sandals AND plaid shorts with a white tee shirt. That time will come. Thanks for the comments.
LikeLike
Jude, I loved the honesty of your comment (#12):
I look in the mirror and, guess what? I am still 60, and still look older than I feel. Do I wish I hadnt spent all that time and money? Yeah, I suppose, maybe. And yet, in a way, it has helped me relax some about getting old. (Not just older, but old.) I wont be doing any more plastic surgeries. There isnt any way not to fade and eventually fall off the branch. Some days I accept that, feel as comfortable as a leaf about it. Other days, I want to do that “rage rage against the dying of the light” routine. I am in love with life and I guess the face lift was a dramatic way to try to hang onto it. What I really want is to be wide awake until the instant I die.
I had not thought of the cosmetic changes as a way to try to hang on to a love of life, to be wide awake to it. It opens a new door to think of it that way. A fresh perspective. And it illuminates all the complicated reasons that people elect to change how they look as they age.
LikeLike
I only now had a chance to catch up on reading some of the later comments on this post. Great comments.
Jude, your comment reminded me of something I’ve heard Natalie Goldberg say about writing (and other writers, too), which is Writing won’t save your life. A face lift won’t save your life. Except I like your saying better ; – ). I think you should hang it somewhere. Oh, I also want to say is, you sound much at peace with your decision in spite of what you know about it. That seems to be the best place to be with it all. Older and wiser.
Oh, and diddy, I laughed out loud at the 4-year-old’s comment. How funny!
LikeLike
Bob, thank you so much for being our latest guest writer. I loved seeing how you took this writing practice in the direction of you, yourself, getting older.
Our other “Growing Older” guest writer talked about her mother growing older. I’ve said this before but I’ll say it again, I always love to see where the topics take each writer. (Or, I guess I should say, where the writers take each topic…)
Hey, I don’t recall you wearing black socks with sandals at the Taos retreats, although I fondly recall your crocs. I had a pair of pink ones, and weren’t yours a sort of bright yellow? Now I’m trying to remember.
I’ve always loved it when any person can be just himself or herself with respect to fashion. Women are often out there with our clothes — I think we have a lot of freedom in that respect. I’m not sure if it’s easy or not for men; I get the sense it might be harder.
Hey, any tattoos on the horizon? 8)
LikeLike
Yes, ybonesy, my crocs are yellow. I have a pair of lavender ones for around the house and yard.
Funny you should ask about tattoos as I have been thinking of getting one. I can’t decide between discreet or bold. Will tell you if I go ahead with the idea. And piercing, don’t forget piercing.
P.S. I would never wear black socks with sandals because black socks show too much dirt and dust.
LikeLike
Ah, it was Stevo who would wear black socks with sandals. Yeah, I would think that’d be a deadly combination.
I vote for bold tattooing. If you’re gonna go through the pain, do it big. Live large, in other words. But that’s just me.
LikeLike
LOVED this line: I felt old, but only in my body. Then older crept into my mind.
Clean, direct, expressive and touchable. Thanks for sharing!!!
Advanced age? Pah. Don’t be ridiculous, dahling. You’re still a pup.
I’m still obsessing about Sharonimo’s comment – I Can Hear The Vultures Singing. Jeez. At least it does make me smile. Might as well smile.
LikeLike
Bob,
I’ve been thinking about this post as I try (again!) to be conscious of the leaves changing from green to gold. I wonder if you’re sitting at your window seat this fall writing about the colors. I walked through Powderhorn Park today and sat on a bench to observe the changes. There isn’t much autumn color, yet, but just a dulling of the green. I thought about you in Kansas City, and hoped you were watching, too.
LikeLike
“’Soooooooo? Is she from your generation?’ My generation? I recoiled at the idea that I had joined a generation.”
Terri — thanks so much for leaving a comment here, because this was perfect reading for today.
Bob, I’ve been keenly aware of the generational shift lately … meaning that I am soon to make the shift to being in the oldest living generation in my family of origin. My dad died five years ago and my mom has recently been diagnosed with cancer.
Last week, I met the son of a childhood friend, who just married, moved to Denver and plans to buy a house soon. The first thing I did when I met him was apologize that my generation had made things harder for his generation. He looked puzzled, until I explained that my generation had aspirations to make things better in the world. With the current wars and financial crisis, I am thinking that we didn’t do such a good job.
This kid is not struggling, but I know in my heart that it is harder starting out as a newly-wed now than it was for me in the late ’70’s. I also know that it was easier for me to start out then than it was for my parents in the ’40’s, after WWII. My parent’s generation made life easier for us, but I think we got comfortable, or careless, or something.
It is going to be harder for my sons as they start out on their own. I’m sorry that their generation will have to clean-up the mess we’ve made and also figure out how to finance care for the burgeoning numbers of us old people in the nation and the world. But, I’ve seen the younger generation in action. I’m confident. They are smart, talented and up to the challenge. I’m also hopeful that they will indeed find solutions to issues and problems which we did not solve … or made worse.
LikeLike
Teri & breathepeace, this was a good piece to read again this morning, as well as your comments. I’ve been feeling old the last few months. But the refreshment of Fall stepped into Minnesota this last week, cooling temps. And I noticed some of the leaves changing along the lake drive yesterday. The oaks in our yard are sturdy though – they always hold out until almost winter.
I’m not sure why I feel older sometimes than I do others. But lately I’ve noticed I have a different point of reference. My family of origin struggled a lot over the summer. I think it reminds me how fragile life is. Something has shifted again.
Bob, these lines stuck out for me this time:
The rules have changed. I am old and can do what I want with my life.
They felt kind of like a mantra for when I’m feeling older. What do I want to leave behind for the future?
Yes, hope you are watching the leaves changing in Missouri. Celebrating life.
LikeLike
[…] fan? You can only pick one. Bob Chrisman is a Kansas City, Missouri writer whose pieces Hands, Growing Older, and Goat Ranch have all appeared in red […]
LikeLike
[…] hard one—hanging open. Bob Chrisman is a Kansas City, Missouri writer whose pieces Hands, Growing Older, Goat Ranch, and Stephenie Bit Me, Too have all appeared in red Ravine. Hands is about the death […]
LikeLike
[…] other red Ravine posts include Growing Older, Goat Ranch, Stephenie Bit Me, Too, and The Law Of Threes. Possibly related posts: (automatically […]
LikeLike
[…] Growing Older by Bob Chrisman […]
LikeLike
[…] her three sisters, and their influence on his life. His other red Ravine posts include Hands, Growing Older, Goat Ranch, Stephenie Bit Me, Too, The Law Of Threes, and In […]
LikeLike
[…] of three. Bob’s other red Ravine posts include Aunt Annie’s Scalloped Oysters, Hands, Growing Older, Goat Ranch, Stephenie Bit Me, Too, The Law Of Threes, and In […]
LikeLike
I too have fallen into the aging battle. I just turned 55 and find that when I look in the mirror I wonder just who that image is. I remember Petula and I remember where I was when Kennedy was assassinated.
I have been retired since I was 50. I was lucky I suppose. We were living in New Orleans. Not the part that was flooded but we were on high ground and suffered a little damage.
We went back and found we could not live there. New Orleans has changed even now. We moved to a rural area in Southwestern Colorado. We being metro folks most of our lives and especially tropical low landers this was a shock to our systems. We moved to an area where our home sat at 8500 ft . One mile and a half above sea level.
We have a 360 degree view ,plenty of open spaces and lots of wildlife. Its like a moonscape here. We have made it through four years now. Acceptance was the biggest key .
Our lives went from hustle bustle city life to our nearest neighbor over one half mile away and town 8 miles down a dirt road. In the winter we can’t even make it out of our driveway until the snow plows decide to come bail us out.
With all that we have accepted everything ,the thing I cannot accept is growing older. My thoughts linger to people I grew up with “family” They are all gone now. I sit this time of year and cry in their memories.
I get online and start searching all the people that I remember over the years and wonder if they even remembered me. Odd that you feel that your life was without notice sometimes as you think of everyone you have always known and realize that you aren’t even sure they would remember you if you contacted them.
I like you …never thought I would live this long. Im stuck. I worked two jobs since I was seven years old. For the last four years I have had to fight the feeling Im suppose to be doing something. Its really hard to think here I am and what does it matter what time i get up. What does it matter if we go to the store today. What does it matter if I even get out of bed.
The nagging feelings of no reason to be are overwhelming sometimes. I don’t know just how to handle it. Also going to the doctors. Im 55 not dead and dying. I hate the television. Every commercial is if you are 50 and over you better take this medicine or that medicine or have the doctor check you for this or that or you are going to die.
Are they trying to get rid of us? What about the people that lived to be 60 ,70 and 80 and older in the 17th 18th and 19th century . Did they take the medicines? What medicines did they have mri’s ct’s or go to the doctor every five minutes with chest pain. No but somehow they managed to live.
Sometimes I feel like I should just head on up the mountains build me a little cabin and forget the world ever existed. As you can tell by this post im not aging well. I want to but it seems the world is against us. I feel as though im in good physical shape and my doctor says I am so why should I take medicines and keep going to the doctor. Shouldn’t we all just do what we need to do and just forget the meds and such?
I feel most every few days im lost although we have more than enough things to keep us busy here on the ranch.
We have yard work,fencing , animals to care for and other things.
Im just at a loss of how im suppose to feel. I know now that I can do pretty much what I want to do , but just what is it im suppose to do ? Thanks for letting me ramble. I just read the post here and wanted to join in and sound off. Thanks
LikeLike
Michael, I don’t know that this will offer any help or consolation, but a lot of people feel the way we do. I’m beginning to think it’s part of getting older.
I don’t think you or me are “suppose to feel anything.” We feel what we feel. We live our lives. Right now, the life I have is better than what may (or, more likely, may not follow).
In short, you are not alone in this battle. Keep in touch if you like. Maybe it’s helpful to have people wandering in the wilderness with you.
LikeLike
[…] other red Ravine posts include Aunt Annie’s Scalloped Oysters, Growing Older, Goat Ranch, Stephenie Bit Me, Too, and The Law Of Threes. He has also published two pieces about […]
LikeLike