Have your ever cursed out an “old” driver for going to slow? If so, I am sure that you are not alone. I was once one of those who had no patience for the old folks poking along doing less than the speed limit on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Karen would always remind me that “You will be old someday.” I did not believe it. The problem is that I am now an old driver. I probably drive slower and more cautiously then I did years ago, but so as not to offend anyone, I usually set my cruise control about 5 mph over the speed limit. I figure it is too slow to get a ticket but too fast to piss off anyone who hates slow old folks behind the wheel. Of course, my logic sucks. I am beset by mortals who obviously have both no fear of death and no fear of getting a ticket. Why are people in such a hurry today? Where the hell is everyone going?
The subject of my blog today concerns the poor old guys and gals who want to live a few years longer. One would think that at age 70 or greater, the elderly would be reckless and carefree. After all, I have had 72 good years on this earth, why should I fret if I die tomorrow. The strange truth is that the older we get, the more cautious we get. It is almost like thinking that if I give up smoking, drinking, motorcycles, wild parties and wild women or wild men, I will be able to live longer. I doubt seriously if the time to be safe is after age 70. It seems to me that logically, the time to be safety conscious would be when you were young and had many potential years ahead of you. Why be safe, when your heart or brain might blow out tomorrow. This is a paradox that I do not understand, but I observe it all around me.
I have friends who don’t want to travel because it might be dangerous. I have friends who have concealed carry permits because they might get mugged and this even in Frederic. I have a daughter who has security lights all around her house and is planning to install a security camera. I have friends who live in gated communities with security guards. I have friends who will not drive in the city or at night.
In each case above, my friends would not have thought twice about it a few years ago. But something happens as we age. Suddenly, we worry. We worry more about things that in the past would not have given us a glimmer of concern. Now we want to know what the weather will be like before we go out. We want to know if a neighborhood is safe before we drive though it. We want to know if a chosen vacation spot is safe to visit.
Why again I ask, would anyone with so few years left to live, worry about their safety? They say that growing old is not for the faint of heart. I can see why. The older we get; the scarier things are. Is it simply a bit of DNA that ordains old people should die safely in their beds?
A little caution as we age is no doubt common sense. Old people are more brittle and less flexible. We do not bounce when we fall, and we can no longer put one foot behind our heads while standing on the other foot doing a Yoga posture (not that I ever could). We do not have as much balance and we should rightfully be staying off of high ladders and roofs. We take more time to mend and with less time left on this earth, we don’t want to spend our last days in a cast or hospital room. We will probably end up in a hospital room anyway, but I doubt it will be because we did anything foolish like bungee jumping or wing suit diving.
Aging, for many of us, will be a process of pulling our blankets ever closer and ever tighter. The days of throwing off the blankets in wild abandon and streaking naked through our gardens are probably over. Somewhere between the two extremes we must find an accommodation with growing old. To die or not to die is not the question. The question is how to die. I always liked the quote in Julius Caesar by Shakespeare “Cowards die many times before their death, the valiant never taste of death but once.” Or to paraphrase Patrick Henry, “I know not what course others may take, but give me a party or let me die comfortably in my bed.”
“You can’t possibly be afraid of death, really, you can only be afraid of life.” — Carl R. Rogers
Aging Capriciously 