On Ageing
I belong to a generation that never knew a grandparent once we were past childhood. Gramps and Granny were strangely kind, sometimes stubborn, but a different breed nonetheless. The cruel reality of ageing in the early years of the welfare state meant that few of their pre-war generation made it into their seventies. And many who did emerged enfeebled or even institutionalised. So we saw them, through a child’s eyes, as serene and immune to change. Maybe that should be our template for ageing.
Now the baby boomers are seen as oldies. And even if we don’t feel it, that’s what we are. Age can bring less certainties rather than more. Far from being content about our lifetime’s achievements we are often found nursing past regrets and nurturing more plans for the future. We still have so much to offer, don’t we? Don’t we? Not really, we’re sometimes told. Just think of the Great Majority (those who are no longer) then appreciate being alive. We may (unlike them) still enjoy the grandchildren.
But active 70 and 80-year-olds live the future as well as looking back into the past. It’s a strange Janus situation. We don’t want to live off memories (as if that were even possible): we need to keep learning about our current world and we wish to project ourselves into the future, just not too far though. The 16th-century essayist Montaigne, who began preparing for death in his 40s, complained ‘We are always beginning our lives afresh’ (All Things Have Their Season). But why not? As if one lifetime was ever going to be sufficient.
Over the months and maybe years to come I hope to have the perseverance to continue thinking and writing this blog. It will be about my situation. But also the world around me that is changing so fast. I shall be fascinated to discover if I will embrace the changes readily or try to ignore them.
I am 70 going on 80