Have you ever thought?
Have you ever thought what kind of old person you will be?
I mean have you ever given it much thought at all? Aside from what successes you might look back on in your old age, have you thought about what future you might be looking at?
For there is always a future isn't there? Perhaps it is several years, a few months, days or only a moment....there is no reason to stop living before your life has ended.
For that matter your future continues even after you die. Others carry on with memories of you, a tomb stone marks your grave, you have marked this life....maybe you don't realize it or maybe you don't want to accept it but you will/ you have/ you are making a mark in this world no matter how grand or how minor that mark is.
My mum and dad are visiting. I keep watching them and thinking about the marks they have made, both the good and the bad. I wonder if they realize it. I have tried to take the time to let them know what marks they have made on me. I wonder if they understand that their time for making a mark is ever drawing to a close. It is very difficult to see how much they have aged just within the last couple of years. Don't get me wrong, they are very vital people and I am incredibly proud of them and love to tell people that my parent's are 70 and 75 years old because they usually find it astounding. But more and more I have observed that my parents are watching life more than they are participating. Am I destine to do the same?
Today dad watched me repair the carved legs on my china cabinet using the tools he taught me how to use. Mum watched me prepare stew just like she taught me how years ago. I suppose they both noticed the touches that I have added to what they have taught me. And I can't help but wonder how it makes them feel. There was a small something in dad's eye while he helped me move the cabinet into place after I had fixed it...a very brief look of regret? melancholy? before pride took over his face. Somehow I think in the next couple of days I will hear him say to me while we are alone something about him not being as young as he once was.....not being able to do all that he once could....I hope I have the right words to remind him that none of that matters to me. I remember "once" and I will always remember.
It seems that as we age some of the stronger features of our personality become more prominent. Mum seems more negative than she used to be. Dad seems softer, less sure of himself. I always have known that side of mum but dad was always a pro at hiding this side of himself. Although sometimes it makes me uncomfortable being unaccustom to it, I am glad he can show this side now.
I wonder what type of old woman I will be. I am hoping that I will be loveably gruff and kind, a bit quirky perhaps but interesting....always interesting....so that the neighborhood children will pick my own flowers to bring to me just as I did with Mrs. Wise, as an excuse to visit me to hear what odd things I have to tell that day. I hope that I will be a bit troublesome but not so much a pain to those in my life but as a way of keeping the young ones on their toes around me.
Have you ever thought of what type of old person you might be?
FOUR Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring’s honey’d cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness—to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.
- John Keats, The Human Seasons
I mean have you ever given it much thought at all? Aside from what successes you might look back on in your old age, have you thought about what future you might be looking at?
For there is always a future isn't there? Perhaps it is several years, a few months, days or only a moment....there is no reason to stop living before your life has ended.
For that matter your future continues even after you die. Others carry on with memories of you, a tomb stone marks your grave, you have marked this life....maybe you don't realize it or maybe you don't want to accept it but you will/ you have/ you are making a mark in this world no matter how grand or how minor that mark is.
My mum and dad are visiting. I keep watching them and thinking about the marks they have made, both the good and the bad. I wonder if they realize it. I have tried to take the time to let them know what marks they have made on me. I wonder if they understand that their time for making a mark is ever drawing to a close. It is very difficult to see how much they have aged just within the last couple of years. Don't get me wrong, they are very vital people and I am incredibly proud of them and love to tell people that my parent's are 70 and 75 years old because they usually find it astounding. But more and more I have observed that my parents are watching life more than they are participating. Am I destine to do the same?
Today dad watched me repair the carved legs on my china cabinet using the tools he taught me how to use. Mum watched me prepare stew just like she taught me how years ago. I suppose they both noticed the touches that I have added to what they have taught me. And I can't help but wonder how it makes them feel. There was a small something in dad's eye while he helped me move the cabinet into place after I had fixed it...a very brief look of regret? melancholy? before pride took over his face. Somehow I think in the next couple of days I will hear him say to me while we are alone something about him not being as young as he once was.....not being able to do all that he once could....I hope I have the right words to remind him that none of that matters to me. I remember "once" and I will always remember.
It seems that as we age some of the stronger features of our personality become more prominent. Mum seems more negative than she used to be. Dad seems softer, less sure of himself. I always have known that side of mum but dad was always a pro at hiding this side of himself. Although sometimes it makes me uncomfortable being unaccustom to it, I am glad he can show this side now.
I wonder what type of old woman I will be. I am hoping that I will be loveably gruff and kind, a bit quirky perhaps but interesting....always interesting....so that the neighborhood children will pick my own flowers to bring to me just as I did with Mrs. Wise, as an excuse to visit me to hear what odd things I have to tell that day. I hope that I will be a bit troublesome but not so much a pain to those in my life but as a way of keeping the young ones on their toes around me.
Have you ever thought of what type of old person you might be?
FOUR Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring’s honey’d cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness—to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.
- John Keats, The Human Seasons
posted by Erika at
8:19 PM
2 Comments:
Hi. Yes, actually I have thought about this, not so seriously, rather half-jokingly. My fantasy goes something like this: when I am old I am really rich and powerful. I live in a grand mansion and even though I am 80 or older I still run a vast conglomerate of companies, meddle in politics and make everybody afraid of me... associates fear that I will fire them, relatives fear that I will change my will...etc.
Of course, this a typical male power fantasy and the good thing about it is that old age seems so far away from now so the complete improbability of this to ever happen does not hurt so much.
The reality is that I am too much of a slacker (really like this word) to ever become very powerful.
I liked your fantasy quite a lot and I think it is interesting to see how male and female fantasies differ. OK, mine is half-joking but on the other side I must admit to having a share of admiration for the Kirk Kerkorians and Rupert Murdochs of this world. (Or some Japanese politicians, in their 90ies, still pulling strings from behind the scenes, fascinating in a way.)
On a more serious note, my late grandparents are a role model for old age. They had their share of suffering during WWII and its aftermath, but they were quite balanced and relaxed in old age. If I can become like this, not so nervous, not so eager to prove myself as I am now, I think it would be quite nice. Also, they were not bitter because of past suffering but rather full of love for people around them.
This relaxed state seems quite desirable to me. On the other hand, if you live your life fully and be open, you can have a great degree of wisdom in old age. I enjoy sharing knowledge and experiences with others and I wonder how it will be in old age. Here my role models would also be my grandparents but also great thinkers like John K. Galbraith or Peter Drucker, who are publishing even in their 90ies.
Enough said. It's an interesting topic and I can't remember anyone ever mentioned it. Quite worthwhile, your blog.
Rgds from Munich/Germany
By
Anonymous, at 5:06 PM
My grandparents were true role models also. It is a large part of where I get my ideas about old age from. They were so peaceful, lovely, vital...and so respected.
They were what kept me in line in my youth more than my own parents. To imagine a look of disappointment on one of my grandparents' faces, whereas I expected disapproval from my parents....even today the thought breaks my heart. My grandparents were more liberal in some ways than my own parents are, more accepting but still with strong beliefs...a pastor and his wife. I suppose they still keep me on my path even though they are no longer at my side. I hear my grandma whispering in my ear from time to time....and I see my St Francis of Assisi grandpa in every chickadee. Talk about a mark that two seemingly small people have made on this earth. I believe everyone that they came into contact with was touched by them. And I could never fully express the gratitude that I feel for the marks that they made on me.
By
Erika, at 9:23 AM
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