Seniors, We Know We Can, We Know We Can

Society doesn’t embrace the older stage of life. Frankly, I don’t clutch it to my sagging bosom but hey, we’ve all made it this far, and if the fates allow, we’ll continue to be like TheLittle Engine That Could. That’s right, when all the other stronger, larger engines refused to climb up the other side of the mountain, the smallest, weakest one took on the impossible task. “I think I can, I think I can,” it puffed, and son-of-a-gun, if it didn’t.

And it was happier for it.

So too, is my motivation to face the hurtles of “old age,” and do it without “I just bit into a sour lemon look”. “I think I can, I think I can.” I walk when I’d rather ride, take the stairs instead of the elevator, opt for cottage cheese when I’d rather stuff this puss with pastries and Pinot, and I’m not bitter that I must allow ten per cent of my challenging budget on the necessities of life — -laxatives, orthopedic shoes, and Preparation H. There was a time when I plastered that hemorrhoid cream on my puffy eyes to shrink the swelling, but boy, have my looks ever gone south since then and so has my downstairs plumbing. If not for a recent doctor’s appointment and my tendency to be attuned to those around me, I never would have over- heard this patient refer to his privates as his downstairs plumbing. How refreshing is that to know that there are still very modest people in the world?

Another motivation for still plugging along is my ability to NOT associate every mishap and set-back I do as a “sign” of old age. It used to be that if I didn’t retrieve a word faster than the speed of sound, a petrifying look came over my face, like maybe someone who just sprung a leak in her adult diaper. Many of us couldn’t recall the exact word we wanted at age thirty and we certainly didn’t attribute that to a young age! As for wearing Depends, it hasn’t come to that yet, but if and when it does, how is that any different from when women had their monthly and had to wear, no, like that gentleman, I’m too modest to say sanitary pads.

My first biggest motivation is really trying to find humor in everyday situations. My dear friend, Roger, and I are still teaching at “our” ages, part-time. Rog retired after well over thirty- years, but went back into the classroom because, like me, we enjoy the heck out of teenagers. Before I lost my treasured parents and I thought I still looked decent, fresh, and so alive, a certain student took a real liking to me. “Mrs. W., do you think you can come back tomorrow and teach our class?”

“I’m sorry, honey, but tomorrow I’m going out to lunch with my parents.”

The poor thing jumped back in horror and gasped. “You mean your parents are STILL alive?!”

That dirty rotten kid, but how could I be offended? He was genuinely shocked, and I surprisingly saw the humor in that remark. “Hey, kill-joy,” I smiled forcefully, “if I was your regular teacher, I’d dropped your average a good twenty points!”

I asked Roger if he ever experienced memorable moments in his class. While a serious and truly consummate teacher, a grin flashed across his aging, good-looking face. “Well, not too long ago I was running late for school, so I just randomly grabbed one of my ties, never realizing that it was from my college days. You know, one of those narrow, knitted jobs? There I am in the front of the class lecturing on iambic pentameter and iambic tetrameter and who would have thought that students who looked comatose could be so observant? A student raised his hand, and I was thankful that I at least had his attention. I mean, let’s face it, what I was teaching was dryer than a popcorn…., no, you’re a lady, Karen, so I can’t say it. I nodded to the student. Yes? I replied.”

“Mr. M., I gotta know, “ he began, as he was staring at my tie. “Did your mother dress you this morning?”

As I continue this road more traveled because people today are living longer, I gain solace in knowing that I’m not alone. I was more afraid as a youngster when I heard that quote, “Once a man, (woman) twice a little boy (girl). “After all, nobody wants to regress in life, but it was my beloved grandfather, Papa, who eased my troubled mind. He was the only, and I mean only person that I ever knew who had that very elusive and rare trait — — inner peace. At one time Papa aspired to be a doctor, so he wasn’t any simpleton, yet his beliefs were very child-like. “Karolena,” he used to call me, “keep-a everything simple. Leave-a the bigga mysteries to God. We must be-a like little bambinos to enter the gates of heaven.”

Of course! It all made sense then. Is that why older people revert back? It’s almost time to leave this world and collect our heavenly reward. But what if we feel more mature and wiser now than we ever have? Does that mean we’re going to the other place?

That’s it! I’m settling for being rather dumb in heaven, than smarter in hell!