Reflections on aging

As my quarter century birthday approaches in a few months, I’m starting to realize I’m not as young and idealistic as I used to be. Let’s start with young. Watching Jacob tear around, carefree as a snowflake floating from the clouds, makes me long to be of a single digit age again. He really has nothing to worry about, except that his books, toys, sippy cup and snacks are within toddling distance.

I also admire Jacob’s flexibility and “bounce.” It’s been a few years since I could touch my toes, yet Jacob can just about put his nose to the ground. When I say “bounce,” I mean that quality only children have. They can run around all day, fall off swings and jungle gyms, or do a sliding dive across the kitchen floor when their bodies get going faster then their feet. Then, the following day, they get up and do it all again without a single ache or pain. One hour of moderate exercise is enough to wear people my age out for a few days, or even an afternoon of fishing, Nate found out. A few of my co-workers know what I mean. They played in an alumni volleyball/basketball tournament last weekend. On Monday you could almost hear the bones creaking as they hobbled around the office.

Money is another issue that seems to grow as I got older. A few co-workers and I reminisced Tuesday about the good ole college days when we had little money and a lot of time. Even with limited incomes from part-time and summer jobs, we managed to afford spring break vacations, shopping sprees, dinners out and frequent visits to the local watering holes. And the following day, we’d roll out of bed and do it again. Sadly, we grew up. Travel is a luxury limited to vacation days, shopping is done on a budget and dinners out consist mostly of fast food joints. Not to mention a Friday night trip to the tavern must be a short one or it ruins the rest of my weekend. Why is it the more money we make, the more money we need to live?

Getting older also has a mental effect. It gets harder to stay on the bright side with so much negativity flooding the airwaves. As I’ve gotten older, it’s harder to find people to look up. People who aren’t supposed to let you down do. You learn there is such a thing as impossible and miracles are few and far between. At the same time, I’ve noticed it’s easier to look down on people and examine people and ideas critically instead of constructively. The famous observation is true: every generation thinks theirs is the best and worries about the one behind them.

After considering this, I’ve decided I’m still too young to worry about the next generation. To most, people my age are the next generation, so it’s time to step up to the plate. The aging process is one I hope to enjoy. Physically, I plan to do it gracefully without wasting money on expensive wrinkle creams and hair dye. But mental aging, the kind that discourages and embitters us, is a battle to be waged. Too bad there’s not a cream for that.