As a Nonagenarian, in other words now that I'm in my nineties,I feel comfortable writing about old age, and the comparisons between when I was young growing up in the 1920’s and 30’s to the present time. I have always taken a light-hearted look at old age. “They,” say that humor is therapeutic for the aged, but no matter how you cut it, there are no magical longevity formulae. For me, it all started in a tiny English village with the simple life, but during the 50’s and 60’s after my involvement in World War 2, normal everyday living began accelerating at an unprecedented rate and continues to do so to this day. For old folks looking back, the differences are striking. They are in such abundance one could spend another lifetime writing about them, but I will confine this article to some short comments punctuated by humorous quotes.

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 It’s all about seniors. So where have the old folks gone?

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When I refer to old age I mean just that. So where did the old folks go? Well, somewhere along the line the word seniors surfaced. I wonder how that came about. Perhaps someone thought that the old folk's label was demeaning, or needed modernizing? Or maybe added to the political correctness list? Seniors these days begin as early as their fifties. Young puppies not long out of their diapers. They are usually depicted in television advertisements carrying their wives along sandy beaches, steering their $250.000 yachts with the wind blowing through their hair, or at some prestigious golf club. They always seem to be laughing, and why not? They must be loaded with cash, but more importantly, have a long way to go before reaching their decrepit years.

 We old folks are still around, but in contrast look out at the yachts as we drive up the motorway, and every few years manage to get a holiday, but for heaven's sake don’t expect us to pick up our wives and run along the beach with them. That’s for seniors. There is something that seniors should know. You can only qualify for membership in the old folk's club when you are staggering into your 80’s and 90’s. Now that’s old.

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Dying

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In advancing years one would tend to think that there is more activity on the subject of dying. In one respect there is, because your friends, relatives, and associates are dropping around you like flies. You will notice that I did not include family because I am a sole survivor. The remarks often fall into a couple of categories. When they are all assembled around the coffin. “Well, he was nearly 90 and he had a good life. No provision here for “Poor old chap comments”. At the other end of the scale. “You can’t believe it he was only 75”. In other words, he didn’t quite make it into the old folk's club, which brings me to my first quote.

 

An old person approached the preacher about their will with two final requests. First, to be cremated, and second that the ashes be scattered at Wal-Mart. “Wal-Mart” the preacher exclaimed, why “Wal-Mart?” “Then I’ll be sure my family will visit me at least twice a week.

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Living

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Getting back to the subject of living, there is now a big thing about health. Here is one of those stark comparisons, between seniors and old folks. Seniors can be seen jogging through the suburbs with distressed looks on their faces just before their heart attacks and to the delight of the pharmaceutical companies consuming numerous pills in pursuit of longevity. Add to that the purchase of those very expensive exercise machines that I call torture contraptions, or alternatively spending their hard-earned cash joining fitness clubs. Spend less and eat less might be good advice from an old man.

 

Old folks, on the other hand, have some obvious facts to take into consideration. Physical activities involving fitness machines, or working on ladders are a big no, no, when a simple calculation comes into play. With only a few short years to go why would you want to spend them handicapped by broken limbs or even something worse, so you settle for less dangerous pursuits. Here is my next quote from an old lady.

 

I felt that my body had gotten totally out of shape, so I asked my doctors permission to join a fitness club and start exercising. I decided to take an aerobics class for old folks. I bent, twisted, gyrated, jumped up and down, and perspired for an hour. But, by the time I got my leotards on, the class was over.

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On a personal note and being in my 90’s I have to attend a senior instruction group every two years and pass a written test etc to keep my driving license. Doesn’t sound too bad does it, but whilst you are there you have to suffer the indignity of being compared with the teenage generation when it comes to safety on the roads. Don’t get me wrong I totally agree with the process to check out those old folks, but why does it have to apply to me? Well here is a quote from someone with a good enough reason.

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I’ve sure gotten old! Had two bypass surgeries, a hip replacement, and new knees. Fought Prostate cancer and Diabetes. I’m half blind, and can’t hear anything quieter than a jet engine, take 40 different medications that make me dizzy, winded, and subject to blackouts. Have bouts of dementia and poor circulation and can hardly feel my hands or feet anymore. Can’t remember if I’m 85 or 92 and lost all my friends. But thank god I’ve still got my driver's license.

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 Old Folks in the Old Days

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When I was growing up in a village environment in England during the 20’s and 30’s I saw lots of really old folks. In those days they were usually half asleep in rocking chairs waiting for the fateful day, or hopefully their next meal, which for them was an event worth waiting for. There were no retirement homes as we know them today, and Grandparents were looked after at home by their respective families. If they had no family only two options existed. The local folks would take them meals and do their best to make their lives tolerable. Or transportation to the Workhouse. We had two such establishments in our immediate area, and I can only sum up that option with these words. Being committed to the workhouse was the greatest indignity that anyone could suffer”.

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A telling moment

 

In recent times when I was visiting a friend who was approaching his 90th year, he said to me. “It gets scary when you start making the same noises as your coffee machine”. He was excusing himself as he was walking across the lounge room with every step punctuated by the sound of gas being expelled. Which proves that the phrase “old fart” did not come about by chance but by the natural physiological process of getting old.

 

You don’t stop laughing because you grow old.

You grow old because you stop laughing.

 

Even though it is a monumental leap from the 1920’s to 2020 I can look back at those times, during my journey through life, with amazing clarity, especially the extreme memories of stress and happiness, which I will hope to cover in future articles.

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Until then I wish you all good health.

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