Growing old resentfully

HAVE you ever been in a public place with a large gathering of people and thought for a minute: “If every person here under a certain age (choose your cut-off age) were to be suddently made to disappear, I could be the only one left!”? Well it's happened to me and it's tending to happen more and more frequently now. Indeed, you know you're getting on (not to say 'old') when you can say this quite often and you know you may be over the hill (not to say 'past it') when it becomes commonplace! Admittedly, using a cut-off age of 30, as I'm doing, is perhaps a bit on the low side, but I can't help being a young buck! Hehhe...

THEY say that “beauty is in the eyes of the beholder”. And this is, I suppose, true, up to a limit (everything has a limit), and similarly that age is a question of mentality, that is to if you think young you ARE young. Well, that too may be true... up to a limit, and a much more uncompromising limit than the former, because age catches up with us sooner or later no matter how young-thinking we are or how young we believe ourselves to be.

Two well-known old fogies

HOWEVER, whether we think young or think ourselves to be younger than our years, as most of us tend to do nowadays - in keeping with the notion of never really growing up or maturing – we can never turn back the clock or the march of the years except perhaps in a very superficial way with something like cosmetic surgery, currently very much in vogue. Yet even disguising our age by such surgical means, we ourselves know how old we are and we know that our internal biological clock is still ticking away and has not slowed down by one iota because of the surgeon's knife.

BUT there's nothing like being in a roomful of people and noting that you're probably the oldest person there, and I’m not just talking about being at a kids' party! I’m talking about grown-ups' places. You're at work, at the cinema, in a restaurant, bar, party, family gathering, even in church, or in any other number of places with other people and they all look disconcertingly young and fresh-faced.

I SUPPOSE the ultimate recognition of one's advancing years is when the sort of people who were always older than you (and so they should be!) are now YOUNGER than you. People such as teachers in general and the head teacher in particular, high-ranking police officers, your family doctor, your local MP, hospital consultants and registrars, and the worst and scariest one of all: the Prime Minister himself (and the President of the United States!), not to mention the Dalai Lama! When all these types of people are younger than you, you know you're old, however young in spirit you might be or however immaturely you might behave. There's just no getting away from it. Once all these people were figures of professional, legal or religious authority who were ALWAYS older than you, now many of them appear to be fresh rosy-cheeked youths and here you are a dried-up old codger or matron visibly withering away!

Age piggy-back!

THE simple fact is that because old age or senility represents a state of being close to the end of life, few if any of us can entertain that thought without a certain amount of trepidation and anxiety, so we prefer not to acknowledge such a state. And who can blame us? Except in a few extreme cases, none of us can contemplate their own extinction with equanimity. Self-preservation and a strong desire to cling to life are natural instincts.

SO I suppose when we look around us and see lots of young people, or at least people younger than ourselves, we feel a tinge of envy of their youth and the many years still left to them. We may sometimes even resent their moving in on territory we considered our own, as we gradually get nudged out to a more peripheral role in society. But it is of course all part of the process of renewal which governs all forms of life and dynamic process.

SO I have no choice but to face up to the fact that my GP receiving me in his surgery is younger than me; that my local MP chairing a meeting of residents is younger than me; that the head teacher I may go and see about my child is younger than me; that the police sergeant I speak to at the local police station is younger than me; that the doctor on duty in accident and emergency is younger than me; that my neighbourhood vicar taking the service is younger than me; and finally, indignity of indignities, that the prime minister or president of my country is younger than me... MUCH younger!

There's a video game for everyone!

OF course, none of this applies to the real me, you understand... ahem... I’m still a fresh and feisty fellow of tender years. I’m using myself, 30 years hence, as a hypothetical example to make a point. But maybe it applies to YOU, or, if not to you, to people you know. Maybe it's something that just applies to other people, who seem to grow old before our very eyes while we stay forever youthful.

The Old Man by the Sea

The old man would shuffle down to the seafront most days and sit on a low parapet overlooking the beach, staring out to sea for hours on end, hardly stirring. He was always on his own and it was always in the afternoon, and he would often stay there until the sun began to dip below the horizon and the light to fade. He wore a broad-brimmed panama hat to shade him from the glare of the sun and he had a small bag with him containing food and drink to sustain him during his lonely vigil. He would sit there on the beach, watching the tide slowly coming in, the waves breaking on the shore, and the gulls cart-wheeling over the water.

Today was like any other day. The sun beat down relentlessly and the sea sparkled and heaved, driven by a strong wind. The rush and surge of the sea spoke directly to his inner soul and seemed to promise welcome release from the heavy burden of old age. It beckoned to him and its freshening spray turned to a fine mist on the arms of the breeze. The old man saw and felt all this and let out a deep sigh.

The salty sea breeze reached out to him and suddenly caught the sigh, as though snatching the breath of life from the old man, and blew it over the foamy waters.

The head of the old man slumped onto his chest and he rolled forward, falling on his side onto the sand with a dull thud. He stayed there unmoving and his hat slipped off his head and was propelled by the wind across the hot sand and into the feet of a group of boys playing ball nearby. One of them gathered it up and, recognising it as the old man’s hat, ran towards him, but then suddenly stopped short, and stared. The old man continued lying on his side in the sand, motionless and peaceful as though asleep.

The boy looked round at his playmates who were calling to him to get back to the game and the boy dropped the hat beside the old man and started running back, too afraid to nudge the lying figure. The old man’s hat was caught by the wind again and rolled across the beach and the breeze cast it into the sea where it bobbed about on the waves.

The old man did not stir and did not seem to care about anything. He was past caring now and at peace with the world. This day had brought welcome release and... had not been like any other day.