Before Saul gets started on his column here today - which also concerns birthdays - I would like to announce that one of the oldest readers of Time Goes By, Leah Aronoff, turns 91 years old today. She does not blog, but has contributed several stories and poems to The Elder Storytelling Place which you can read here. You could also send her a birthday greeting at laronoff[at]fuse[dot]net.
[EDITORIAL NOTE: Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Saul Friedman ( bio ) writes the bi-weekly Reflections column for Time Goes By in which he comments on news, politics and social issues from his perspective as one of the younger members of the greatest generation. He also publishes a weekly column, Gray Matters, on aging for Newsday.
Sybil, I beg to differ with that head you put on your fine piece a few weeks ago, An Octogenerian’s Lament. First of all, I’m not sure I like being called an “octogenerian.” Sounds like a species of plant or a small animal with eight legs.
More important, becoming 80 is not lamentable, which, according to my dictionary, means to “mourn “ or “express sorrow.” And Sybil, you could have written your poem about aging long before your 80th. Some people are ready to throw in the towel at 50.
Mickey Mantle once said, “If I knew I was going to live this long I would have taken better care of myself.” Becoming 80 is not to be mourned but celebrated as an accomplishment. When I told a newspaper colleague, who is Chinese, that I was 80, she had a most delightful and non-American reaction: “Really? That’s wonderful that you have attained that age. Congratulations.”
If the Chinese culture, the oldest on earth, outlasts ours it will be because it venerates age.
In my line of work, competitive journalism, staying up all hours, years of smoking, eating too much, working too hard - I never thought I’d make to 80. Even now, after a serious stroke and a nasty encounter with esophageal cancer, I cannot believe I am 80. I feel well, I’m still getting out my weekly column and an occasional piece for Time Goes By, and I play Free Cell on my computer – as I have since my stroke in 2003, to make sure my marbles are still there.
As I’m fond of saying in my column - and this is reflected in the readers of this blog - today we are younger than our parents were at our age. I’m sure medicine and pharmaceuticals, as well as life style have played roles in this. But I think mobility, the ease of traveling, of buying and driving a car, of getting out to do and see new things have had a lot to do with longevity.
At age 70, Evelyn and I decided to celebrate the millennium by going on an eight-day, camping-out raft trip down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. It was unforgettable. More than that, we took great satisfaction in having done it, for in a way the trip was like a sip from the fountain of youth. Indeed, we were more active than some of our younger companions, mostly because we were in awe of the canyon (where some of the walls are as old as the earth) while they took things for granted.
This year, in fact starting in this month, Evelyn, who will soon be 80 (but doesn’t believe it), will join me and six members of our family for a mega trip to jointly celebrate that great accomplishment. We lived in South Africa for some months while I was teaching journalism and we fell in love with the bush and the animals. So we are going to a place we wanted to get to, but couldn’t – the Okavango Delta in Botswana (home of the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency).
Briefly, the Delta – a series of swamps and Islands - is formed when the rain-swollen rivers from the west flow into and floods the Kalahari Desert. That’s when the animals come by the hundreds to drink, hunt, mate, feed. And we’re going to spend two days, in each of three different safari camps to watch this wonderment. Fortunately, two daughters and strong sons-in-law are coming to help us over the rough spots, if there are any.
We’re doing this because we’re 80 and we can. Some years ago, when we lived in South Africa and we were in our sixties, I encountered a group of British tourists, none under 70, struggling busily through an airport, and I thought then, for the first time, how great that they traveled at their age. Now, I know: Why not? What does age have to do with it? Only health should get in the way.
Which leads me to make a more serious point. Ageism, as this site has made clear, is subtle and bad enough. But when ageism is combined with disability, it’s worse than that. And among my pet peeves are outfits such as AARP and ElderHostel, which are supposed to be age and disability friendly and should know better. But both outfits seem to be catering to younger, more able-bodied boomer types.
I’ve criticized ElderHostel elsewhere because the majority of its programs, especially those that are overseas, are too strenuous for many older people and they make little or no allowance for the disabled person. ElderHostel is a wonderful organization and I have participated in several programs, but that was before the stroke left me unable to walk very far.
ElderHostel will tell you that they will try to accommodate to your needs if you notify them in advance. But wheelchairs are not always available and one gets the idea that disabled people are not encouraged. Many of the programs require a good deal of walking. Unlike the cruise ships, which are wonderfully accommodating towards disabled passengers, most of the ElderHostel programs abroad cannot supply, say, wheelchairs or scooters.
Finally, AARP seems to be an organization for older people who are golf-ready, handsome, happy, white-haired and very able-bodied. Indeed, the AARP magazine and Bulletin usually includes sex-enhancement advertisements. But rarely does the magazine or the Bulletin show really old people. And almost never does the magazine (the latest has Dolly Parton on the cover) show a person with a cane or a walker, much less a wheelchair.
In the past, AARP’s policy was to refuse advertisements depicting disabled older people. Nancy Graham, the magazine editor told me that’s no longer the case, but the only ads I see are relatively young people posing with walk-in showers and stair-climbing chairs. She promised me weeks ago that the blackout of disabled older persons would end. So far, it hasn’t.
Before Saul gets started on his column here today - which also concerns birthdays - I would like to announce that one of the oldest readers of Time Goes By, Leah Aronoff, turns 91 years old today. She does not blog, but has contributed several stories and poems to The Elder Storytelling Place which you can read here. You could also send her a birthday greeting at laronoff[at]fuse[dot]net.
[EDITORIAL NOTE: Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Saul Friedman ( bio ) writes the bi-weekly Reflections column for Time Goes By in which he comments on news, politics and social issues from his perspective as one of the younger members of the greatest generation. He also publishes a weekly column, Gray Matters, on aging for Newsday.
More important, becoming 80 is not lamentable, which, according to my dictionary, means to “mourn “ or “express sorrow.” And Sybil, you could have written your poem about aging long before your 80th. Some people are ready to throw in the towel at 50.
Mickey Mantle once said, “If I knew I was going to live this long I would have taken better care of myself.” Becoming 80 is not to be mourned but celebrated as an accomplishment. When I told a newspaper colleague, who is Chinese, that I was 80, she had a most delightful and non-American reaction: “Really? That’s wonderful that you have attained that age. Congratulations.”
If the Chinese culture, the oldest on earth, outlasts ours it will be because it venerates age.
In my line of work, competitive journalism, staying up all hours, years of smoking, eating too much, working too hard - I never thought I’d make to 80. Even now, after a serious stroke and a nasty encounter with esophageal cancer, I cannot believe I am 80. I feel well, I’m still getting out my weekly column and an occasional piece for Time Goes By, and I play Free Cell on my computer – as I have since my stroke in 2003, to make sure my marbles are still there.
As I’m fond of saying in my column - and this is reflected in the readers of this blog - today we are younger than our parents were at our age. I’m sure medicine and pharmaceuticals, as well as life style have played roles in this. But I think mobility, the ease of traveling, of buying and driving a car, of getting out to do and see new things have had a lot to do with longevity.
At age 70, Evelyn and I decided to celebrate the millennium by going on an eight-day, camping-out raft trip down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. It was unforgettable. More than that, we took great satisfaction in having done it, for in a way the trip was like a sip from the fountain of youth. Indeed, we were more active than some of our younger companions, mostly because we were in awe of the canyon (where some of the walls are as old as the earth) while they took things for granted.
This year, in fact starting in this month, Evelyn, who will soon be 80 (but doesn’t believe it), will join me and six members of our family for a mega trip to jointly celebrate that great accomplishment. We lived in South Africa for some months while I was teaching journalism and we fell in love with the bush and the animals. So we are going to a place we wanted to get to, but couldn’t – the Okavango Delta in Botswana (home of the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency).
Briefly, the Delta – a series of swamps and Islands - is formed when the rain-swollen rivers from the west flow into and floods the Kalahari Desert. That’s when the animals come by the hundreds to drink, hunt, mate, feed. And we’re going to spend two days, in each of three different safari camps to watch this wonderment. Fortunately, two daughters and strong sons-in-law are coming to help us over the rough spots, if there are any.
We’re doing this because we’re 80 and we can. Some years ago, when we lived in South Africa and we were in our sixties, I encountered a group of British tourists, none under 70, struggling busily through an airport, and I thought then, for the first time, how great that they traveled at their age. Now, I know: Why not? What does age have to do with it? Only health should get in the way.
Which leads me to make a more serious point. Ageism, as this site has made clear, is subtle and bad enough. But when ageism is combined with disability, it’s worse than that. And among my pet peeves are outfits such as AARP and ElderHostel, which are supposed to be age and disability friendly and should know better. But both outfits seem to be catering to younger, more able-bodied boomer types.
I’ve criticized ElderHostel elsewhere because the majority of its programs, especially those that are overseas, are too strenuous for many older people and they make little or no allowance for the disabled person. ElderHostel is a wonderful organization and I have participated in several programs, but that was before the stroke left me unable to walk very far.
ElderHostel will tell you that they will try to accommodate to your needs if you notify them in advance. But wheelchairs are not always available and one gets the idea that disabled people are not encouraged. Many of the programs require a good deal of walking. Unlike the cruise ships, which are wonderfully accommodating towards disabled passengers, most of the ElderHostel programs abroad cannot supply, say, wheelchairs or scooters.
Finally, AARP seems to be an organization for older people who are golf-ready, handsome, happy, white-haired and very able-bodied. Indeed, the AARP magazine and Bulletin usually includes sex-enhancement advertisements. But rarely does the magazine or the Bulletin show really old people. And almost never does the magazine (the latest has Dolly Parton on the cover) show a person with a cane or a walker, much less a wheelchair.
In the past, AARP’s policy was to refuse advertisements depicting disabled older people. Nancy Graham, the magazine editor told me that’s no longer the case, but the only ads I see are relatively young people posing with walk-in showers and stair-climbing chairs. She promised me weeks ago that the blackout of disabled older persons would end. So far, it hasn’t.