Aging: The Third Act

Written 2022

Am I aging gracefully? There is nothing graceful about the chicken neck that peeks out of my blouse, or the body parts that point south. I am watching my grace slowly but surely drift into oblivion. Having Parkinson's contributes to this as I walk slowly and stooped; Parkinsons and Aging go hand in hand.

Rewind

…to the 1950s, to my high school days in Johannesburg, South Africa, when my fellow students and I were assigned a creative writing task. We were to write an opinion piece using the title ‘Old Ladies’.

My thoughts flowed easily as I put pen to paper, expounding the declining importance of older women in our (western) society. I concluded my essay proudly and with unwavering conviction, stating that I had no wish to live past the age of (wait for it!) 49, beyond which I would simply be a burden on society!

(Oh! how I’m eating my words now!)

Instead of being hauled into the Guidance Counsellor's office to find out where I learned to devalue the 'elderly' to such a degree, I was given an A grade for the essay! Indeed! Where did I learn such drivel? Although I did not grow up with grandparents (all died during my pre-school years), I had wonderful aunts and uncles who were probably in their 50’s and up. 49?? What was I thinking?? Hell, when I was 49 (almost 20 years ago) I was just reaching my peak!!

And how come nobody thought to bring this disturbing essay to the attention of my parents?

Fast Forward

It is now 2022 – more than five decades later – and wouldn’t you know it? The shoe is on the other foot! Talk about poetic justice!! Now an aging woman myself, I find myself on the periphery of a society whose perception of its aging population is not significantly different than my earlier impressions. Aging with dignity? Huh!

But there is no doubt that this age and stage brings with it many benefits, such as fewer time constraints, more leisure time and the gift of grandchildren (whom we can send home when we’ve had enough). But the ever-present mirror is merciless as it keeps reminding me that I’m no spring chicken anymore. Who is that stranger in the mirror anyway?!

Merciless or not, I depend on the mirror to help me look as good as I can look, but what used to take fifteen minutes now takes almost an hour – and I still don’t get the same results! What happened to my gloriously thick, flowing mane? When did my eyelids start to droop, leaving me half blind with a perpetually tired look? And when did I develop jowls? I spend a fortune buying cosmetics in the hope that ‘this one’ will do the trick … this one will revitalize my appearance. I could open a store with the cosmetics I have accumulated and don’t use! Do they help? Well, let me put it this way: without make-up I look like something the cat dragged in.

It’s not just my appearance that has suffered. It’s also my energy level. I remember with nostalgia how vigorous, agile and energetic I used to be. I moved quickly and I could do anything I wanted to do. Now I am slow … I have an ache here and a pain there … I tire easily (I mean for heaven’s sake, I nap during the day!) … I ‘m forgetful … and I dislike noise and crowds. All fairly typical signs of aging. Some start early, others start later. But we all get there if we live long enough.

Stop the clock! I want to get off! Well – not really ‘off’. I want to age backwards!

And do I look my age? Apparently I do, as I am offered seniors' discounts without having to provide proof, and am regarded with reverence as people open doors for me – kind, respectful gestures but confirmation that my senior status is clearly evident.

Always on the prowl for inspirational material, I recently came across a talk given by Jane Fonda. She describes what she calls ‘the third act’ – a develop-mental life stage, which - she believes - challenges the view of age as pathological. “We are still living with the old paradigm of age as an arch,” she states. “You are born, you peak at midlife and decline into decrepitude” (oh how I love that word!). The third act challenges that metaphor, and Ms. Fonda offers an alternative one: a staircase. She describes how we move up the staircase during our senior years, towards the attainment of wisdom, authenticity and wholeness.

Am I wise? I like to believe that indeed I am. Am I authentic? Always have been. Am I whole? What’s that supposed to mean?

Jane Fonda’s words comfort me – but it’s easy for her to wax poetic, with that gorgeous face (rejuvenated surgically, no doubt) and lithesome figure. I’ll bet she too has her moments. The rich and famous are not exempt. Ralph Berry (a college professor) hit the nail on the head when he said:

“Age should not have its face lifted, but it should rather teach the world to admire wrinkles as the etchings of experience and the firm line of character”.