Old People.

Let me just begin this post by saying that I hope I do not offend anyone. (Ha! I should start them all like that.) Today's topic: Old People. Since I am more than halfway there, my hot, Rockstar husband just turned 50, I lead a Senior Ministry, and I live in The Woods in Lake Forest, median age 78, I consider my observations incredibly relevant.

It seems af if there are 2 schools of thought with respect to Old People. #1. Beautiful, joyful, servant-hearted, people who realize that life is a gift, and that each day should be lived in gratitude and grace. I'd love to name people that I am blessed to know here, but you know who you are. You are a married couple who lead a ministry of "older" folks, and you are in your 80s. (I want to be you when I grow up, by the way.) You are a high-spirited, wise-cracking, BEAUTIFUL, funny single lady who makes my life better. You are my mom, who can outdistance me at every turn, AND look better in a bathing suit too! You are my father-in-law who defies the number of years he has been on this planet. Seriously. You are my "West Coast Mom" who prays for my dopey kid. I love you guys. I am taking notes, believe me.

School #2. Cranky. Bitter. Jerk. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE TOO. You are never satisfied. You look for ways to complain. You are mean and intolerant. You think, because of your age, that you are entitled. You are not. What happened to you, CBJ? I want to help. I want you to see that being able to be "a certain age" is a blessing. I know, your friends die, your bones ache. Heck, my friends die and my bones ache too. You are my next door neighbor, complaining about a birthday celebration at 9.30 on Saturday night. You are resistant to technology. You are rude to waiters. You have no patience for children. (Ok, I don't either, but I will fight that, CBJ.) You gossip about neighbors and you have mean eyes.

What will we become? I know, we all want to be Old People School of Thought #1. But where is the divide? Attitude of gratitude vs. dwelling in loss.

It is to spend long days
And not once to feel that we were ever young
It is to add, immured
In the hot prison of the present, month
to month with weary pain.
(Matthew Arnold "Growing Old")

I want to understand. But I also want to choose. Consider the words of 12th century Chinese poet, Lu Yu:
Old man pushing eighty
In truth he acts like a little boy
Whooping with delight when he spies some mountain fruits
Laughing with joy, tagging after village mummers,
With the others having fun, stacking tiles to make a village pagoda.
Standing alone, staring at his image in the jardinere pool
Tucked under his arm, a battered book to read
Just like the time he first set out to school.

I want to laugh with joy. (Not bitch at my neighbors.) I want a good book tucked under my arm and memories of good times, youth, people I have loved, and crazy things I have been blessed to experience. I want a funny friend, a good dog, and dignity. With all due respect, Mr. Arnold, you can have your "hot prison of the present." If I get to choose, my present will be the freedom of wisdom, humor, music, and love.

Friends, should I grievously turn into Old Person #2, I hereby give you permission to remind me of the beautiful octogenarians that I have had the privilege of knowing. If that doesn't work, just suffocate me with a pillow. I'll be over me by then......

Gratefully,
just Dawn