A few years ago, I was offered "senior checking" by my bank. It was quite a shock, because it meant that in someone's eyes I was now old. Not too long after that, my dentist observed that everything in my mouth looked just fine, "not counting the bone loss that is normal for a man your age."
I should have been prepared. My son, after all, has been calling me "old man" for years. He even programmed my cell phone so the opening screen has that name. So I've been wondering. Just what is "old"?
The dictionary, as usual, isn't much help. Or maybe it is. One of the definitions is "no longer young." I can't imagine my father as a young man. He was always old, but then he always had arthritis, so I can't imagine him skipping or leaping. Or playing tennis or even walking really fast. He sort of lumbered.
I tried to put a number on "old." In The Full Monty, the committee auditioning dancers looks at one guy and someone says, "Look at him! He must be at least 50." That's how old I was when I got my senior checking. I haven't even bothered to check on McDonald's standard for "senior coffee" or the state's age for a Golden Buckeye Card. In an early episode of Will & Grace, Jack is horrified to discover that he's passed the magic number: 30. On the other hand, when I complain that I'm too old to find love, someone always mentions some nice old guy who got hitched in his 70s. I always assume that's an urban legend.
George Burns is sort of a hero. He was scheduled to play Carnegie Hall on his 100th birthday. He never made it. I think the cigars killed him. He was 99.
I used to be older. I used to have trouble with my back until I began weightlifting again. I used to worry a lot about my health. I used to have a gut hanging over my belt. I used to take pills. Now I eat fruits and vegetables. I used to worry about what people think of me. Now I vote for Obama (the young person's candidate), wear jeans, and listen to loud music.
Maybe "old" should fit into the phrase "too old to." I guess I'm too old to be mistaken for an undergraduate, but not too old to buy my jeans in the young men's section of Macy's. I'm too old now to wrestle teenagers, at least the ones over 16 or the ones on wrestling teams. I'm too old to drink Natural Light until I fall over, but then I always was too old for that.
Maybe that phrase "too old to" should be finished with "too old to have hope." An Argentinean friend of mine, Juan Acuña, told me that he couldn't wait to hit 65. That's when solid respectability comes. That's when one is what one was made to be. George Burns had hope (and a lot of jokes) waiting for Carnegie Hall. Another friend, Charlie Todd, got married at 86. (He did make one concession to his years though. He said he didn't believe in short engagements, but when one is 86, one can't wait TOO long.)
Maybe "old" isn't the right word. I should try to work on "elderly." In the sense of being an elder, it's a good thing, but in the sense of giving up on oneself, falling apart, restricting one's horizon to the next sitcom, and staying away from anything interesting, threatening, or fun, I don't want to go there. "Old" isn't something I can control: I approach it at exactly 60 seconds per minute. I can control "elderly" though. That's what I intend to do. I hope I follow in the footsteps of George Burns and Charlie Todd. Find true love at 86 and play Carnegie Hall at 100.
