Month: January 2024

January 2024

By Richard Fleming

Photo courtesy of Nigel Tadyanehondo

Many of us seniors don’t feel as ancient as our birth certificates proclaim. For those who have so far avoided devastating health problems, we typically collect aging’s components slowly. The ailments sneak up on us. Minor joint aches accumulate. The aging of our skin and hair unfolds over years. Stamina dissipates almost imperceptibly. Our trouble recalling names is easy to dismiss, because those people’s names weren’t all that important, right?

And because our physical and mental capacities erode gradually, we can be fooled for a while. But at some point reality intervenes. The mirage fades as the maladies amass. And society puts a stamp on it by highlighting how differently we approach life than everyone else.

What activities mark us as unequivocally old? What features set us apart from the younger generations? I will mention several that I experience, but there are many others. Your results may vary. (Please feel free to add more in the comments section.)

• I do not go out in public wearing pants that are torn and ripped. I would find that embarrassing. While I may sometimes wear articles of clothing that have a hole or two, it’s only because I didn’t realize the holes were there. Young folks wear ripped clothing as a styling statement.
• I often write checks when I need to pay for something. My parents taught me how to write checks carefully and accurately. Knowing there is a clean paper trail for where our cash is going provides a sense of security. Today, though, it seems many young people do not own a checkbook and don’t know what they could possibly be used for.
• I am not very good or efficient with those new-fangled payment methods the rest of society seems to use, like Venmo and ApplePay. I find it intriguing that a person can twist their wrist over the payment terminal at the grocery store and then push their cart out the door. They pay without reaching for their credit card. I’ve just recently learned how to tap my credit card on payment terminals, but paying from my watch is a bridge too far.
• I usually communicate using email. Email still amazes me. It is so quick, so efficient, so useful. But when I email my kids, I rarely hear back from them. If I text, they respond quickly. They tell me no one uses email anymore. Young people appear to view email as a dinosaur, akin to snail mail or corded land line phones. (My wife and I still have those phones.)
• When a person I’m calling does not answer their phone, I tend to leave a voicemail message. Most seniors are very comfortable using voicemail. Answering machines became common household devices when we were growing up, so we became very familiar with this technology (though we didn’t call it voicemail). For some reason, younger generations dislike voicemail and often won’t even listen to it. If I get no response to a voicemail I left a few days earlier, I can safely assume the recipient is under age 50.
• Over the past ten years, I’ve learned to embrace the utility of texting. But I use my dominant hand’s index finger to type one letter at a time. I’m still mystified how young people can type using two thumbs. How can a person enter words correctly that way? When we were growing up, the phrase “I’m all thumbs” meant I was awkward and clumsy. Today, I suppose this phrase refers to a person who can text quickly.
• When I text, I write words in complete sentences. I might text “Are you coming over later?”, while young folks will text “r u coming l8r”. And I always put punctuation marks at the end of sentences. (I still remember the lessons from Mr. McKinney’s 9th grade grammar class at Roosevelt Junior High.) But many young people seem to feel punctuation is superfluous. In their view, putting a  period at the end of a sentence conveys hostility or passive-aggressiveness.
• I don’t participate in what seems to be called… um… chat groups. Did I get that term right? Cognitively, I find it hard enough to keep individual text communications organized. If I had to keep track of what group chat each text belonged to, my mind would implode.
• I still watch cable television. I have listened to young people try to explain to me that cable is outdated. Evidently you can now plug a thumb drive into the back of your TV and watch whatever you want. No thanks. When I want to watch television, I prefer to sit down and relax. I don’t want to be challenged to remember which buttons to push and which menus to navigate through to be able to watch NBC News or Survivor. With cable, it is easy. You turn on the TV and enter the channel number. Done and done.

I’ve barely scratched the surface on the list of traits which mark me as undeniably, fully, and wholly old. I don’t understand most modern slang. I’ve never heard of most of the hosts on Saturday Night Live. I don’t know the musical groups topping the charts on Spotify. I don’t follow any influencers and don’t understand how they are any different from advertisers. I don’t get my news from Facebook or the Gram. I could go on, but…

Mind you, my aim here is not to complain. And I certainly do not mean to disrespect young people. Rather, I just want to acknowledge how gob smacked I sometimes feel about how far today’s younger generations have evolved beyond the Boomers and the Silents. In my younger years, I used to pride myself on being in touch with culture, trends, and social norms. Nowadays I often just feel lost in time and space.

This phenomenon is not unique to the 21^st Century. Generation gaps are timeless. When Boomers were young, we knew it all. And we lamented the fact our elders were stodgy, rigid, and didn’t understand music, lifestyle, politics, and culture. Now we have grown old and can no longer avoid the reality that we too are aging out of many currents of modern life.

But we should not see the novel habits of younger folks as problematic. Indeed, it is reassuring to see the vitality and innovation of the younger generations. They have taken the baton and are now the ones shaping today’s world. I hope beyond hope they succeed in creating a society with fewer problems than the world they are inheriting from us.

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January 2024

By Richard Fleming

Photo courtesy of Stephanie McCabe

For most people, birthdays are important markers of their progress through life. They offer an opportunity for family and friends to celebrate. But some birthdays are considered more significant and are referred to as milestone birthdays. Though their importance is more symbolic than real, they nonetheless are often occasions for larger gatherings and more elaborate parties.

An interesting facet of aging is that our feelings about milestone birthdays change over time. When we are young, they are joyful occasions. As we mature into adulthood, they remain notable, but their importance tends to lessen. And as we grow into old age, those milestone birthdays often evolve into what may be more appropriately called millstone birthdays.

Let me explain.

For children, milestone birthdays are very important. Of course the first birthday is always a cause for partying, even though the celebrant is clueless about why people are wearing funny hats and singing a silly song. First birthdays are milestones more for the parents and grandparents than for the child. The fifth birthday marks the time the child will be starting school. Turning 10 is significant because the person has attained double digits. Three years on, they officially become a teenager. A few years later, they become eligible to drive. Then they become old enough to vote. And before long they can buy alcohol. These are indeed milestone birthdays, marking greater maturation, more opportunities, and expanded responsibilities.

Attaining age 21 is an important marker of becoming officially an adult. A young adult, certainly, but a true grownup. 21-year-olds are viewed by society as more mature than 19- or 20-year olds. Thereafter, milestone birthdays are generally considered to be those when a person moves into a new decade of life. People turning 30 or 40 often have large birthday celebrations. Arriving at an older decade represents a notable achievement. People who like to party often include the five year birthdays – 35, 45, etc. – as milestones and opportune times for large celebrations.

Then comes age 50. Fifty is a big one. It symbolizes the person wrapping up the first stage of adulthood. It signifies a person stands on the threshold of middle age. And 50 is often the birthday where friends and family start cracking jokes about creaking joints. About the difficulty staying up late to party. And about the myriad realms in which vitality is declining.

Sixty is another significant occasion. Even more jokes about aging are offered, but they seem less humorous when we turn 60. The birthday celebrant may force a smile when they read birthday card comments about sagging skin and bowel problems, but what they are really thinking is these statements are too accurate to be funny.

It is when we turn 65 or 70 that the implications of milestone birthdays start to sink in. These celebrations, while joyful, can take on a somber undertone. This is the time of life when moving into another decade begins to feel more like a millstone than a milestone. During our birthday parties, we may chuckle as family and friends tease us about how hard it is for us to blow out the candles on our cake, but is this really so funny? And when we reach 75 or 80, the millstone character of birthdays is hard to deny. We can’t avoid reflecting on the reality we are getting ever closer to sundown.

My next major birthday, my 75^th, will come in a couple of years. I’m sure when that day comes, assuming I make it to then, I will think back fondly on how much more energy I had when I was only 68 years old. And I will recall how much more youthful I felt at age 59. Those were the days, my friend, but I did know they would end.

Mind you, I’m not trying to come across as a curmudgeonly old fella, but I suspect that is exactly how I sound. Truthfully, I hope my luck holds so I can be around for more millstone birthdays. But the uncertainty of not knowing how many I still have gives me pause. I know, on an intellectual level, I should appreciate each and every one.

In the years ahead, whenever I celebrate another millstone birthday, I will smile. I won’t begrudge the young folks – anyone under 60 – who will josh me about the accumulating frailties of old age. I will chuckle faintly when I open birthday cards pointing out I have less hair, worse hearing, and a sketchy memory. I will tell myself that at least I’m lucky enough to still be alive, still spend time with my family, and still be fortunate enough to grow even older. I will think of the increasing number of friends who no longer have millstone birthdays, or any birthdays for that matter.

As I move further down the path into the deep woods, perhaps I will eventually get to the point where I no longer consider milestone birthdays to be millstones. If so, I will have finally made peace with my personal reality of growing old. But I’m not quite there yet.

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