Yikes! It's mid-Monday and I just realized I hadn't done...anything. When all else fails, I tend to post things I wrote...oh, years ago...in the hope no one will remember having read it before. This one's dated--it is, after all, about seven years old--but I feel pretty much the same way now as I did then. Thanks for reading. Sorry it's not writing-related!
The world,
even with all its terrors and horrible events, is a wondrous place. Humankind’s intelligence, which gives us all
kinds of great things, is an amazing thing.
We, as a species, have learned to fight disease, to make ourselves
beautiful, to be healthy, to gain wealth or choose to live without it. We’ve also learned to destroy everything
around us: the air, the water, the very ground we walk on. We’ve learned that we have choices, yet we
all too often choose to tear down rather than build up, to hate rather than to
love, to rage against that which we cannot change instead of laughing in its
face.
As
you age, it is undeniable that certain aspects of life begin to go south. I can no longer touch my wrist with my thumb,
bite my big toe, or remember anything that has happened recently. (I can, however, recite my brothers’ service
numbers from when they were in the Navy and Marines 40-some years ago and
remember what time Bonanza was on
Channel 16 on Sunday nights--right after Ed
Sullivan on Channel 22. I’m sure
that somewhere in the scheme of things, this will come in handy.) I can’t, even if I lose enough weight to fit
comfortably into the charts put out by insurance companies who dream small,
wear a two-piece bathing suit in public.
If I pierced my navel, the earring would get lost in the extra flesh and
probably have to be surgically retrieved.
And, if someone tells me to open my eyes wide, I have to tell them they are opened wide, but that the skin’s too
heavy to lift itself up anymore.
“She’s not
aging gracefully,” my husband said recently about someone who...well,
isn’t. And it has nothing to do with how
she looks. It has to do with the fact
that she wants to have the same place in the world she had when she was 30. To tell the truth, we’d all like to have a place like that, where our kids had to listen to
us (though I don’t recall that mine ever did), TV programming was made-to-order
for our watching pleasure, and we could buy books that were written about
people like us.
Then there’s the
other truth. As in, it’s not going to
happen. Marketing experts have pushed
anyone over 50 completely off the screen of consumers-who-might-be-interested. (I have never quite figured this out, as it
seems to me we have more money to spend than we had 20 years ago, but there
must be some rhyme and reason to it.)
Politicians don’t pursue our vote.
Movie-makers don’t understand or don’t care that a lot of us would
rather see Sally Field than the blonde-of-the-month.
But, there are
plenty of young women in two-piece bathing suits to keep the beaches
interesting to the opposite gender, I already have two holes pierced in each
ear, so don’t really need anymore, and I’m afraid if I got my eyes fixed, I’d
look surprised all the time. Most people
don’t, but I would. I would be concerned
if my children started listening to me at this late date, I’d rather do almost
anything than watch television, and the nice thing about books is that they
don’t go out of date. If you don’t like
the ones published in 2006--and chances are, if you don’t like suspense, you
probably won’t--you can always read the ones published in 1975. If you don’t like new movies, you can watch
old ones.
And there’s always
the fact that we do still have choices and that we’ve learned by this stage of
the game that the only important criteria in the choices we make is that we not
hurt anyone else in the process. I don’t
think anyone I know cares that I haven’t been to the theatre since Duane and I
went to see Space Cowboys and that I
haven’t watched network television since “Murder, She Wrote” went off the
air.
There’s not
much we can do about any of this, other than make the choices that are right
for us. And we can be careful not to
tear down, not to hate, not to stake too much on things we can’t change. And, when all else fails, we can keep right
on laughing.
Great blog, Liz! Loved it!
ReplyDeleteI loved your blog - insightful, a little bit challenging (I can remember Bonanza on Sunday night, but not the channel number) and a poignant reminder to be our best instead of settling for what's easy. Thanks, Liz.
ReplyDeleteLove it, Liz!
ReplyDeleteDefinitely worth reposting! Some things don't really go out of date. Barb Bettis
ReplyDeleteIn some ways it's disturbing, in others it's comforting. Love the post!
ReplyDeleteThank you, everybody! You're right, Alison, there are disturbing points there.
ReplyDeleteLoved this post Liz! I got my navel pierced when I was 26. It popped out when I turned 38 and the pounds stayed with me. I decided to let it be. Some things, you just can't change. And I've accepted that.
ReplyDeleteI remember phone numbers--from my high school best friend, to my grandparents, and my great-great aunt's. Numbers I haven't called in decades. But ask me my daughter's work schedule this week--gah. Glad to know it's not just me..it's an age thing ;)
ReplyDeleteGreat post, Liz.
Thanks, Shawn and Margie. Nice to know I share that numbers thing. I still think about getting another ear-piercing, though I only use one hole now, but have become more of a pain-wuss!
ReplyDelete