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Hats off to the longevity of old fogeys

September 19, 2024   ·   0 Comments

by CONSTANCE SCRAFIELD

There is a lot of talk about people getting old these days.

Lemmie see now, the 1950s – 1960s were the great and more intensely than we might have realized epoch of the Baby Boomers.

Well, gosh, the previous several decades of the 20th Century were almost entirely consumed by war until the War to End All Wars was – in a rush of crazy optimism – brought to a conclusion that was almost certainly designed to assure subsequent war mongering was a sure thing. War is, after all, more profitable an industry than most, stronger even than today’s grocery stores.

However! People didn’t know that at the time. There was real optimism that lessons had been learned forever and the world would benefit like crazy from the technical advances the two-plus wars had birthed.

The United Nations with its “tag line,” as it were, of “Peace, dignity and equality on a healthy planet,” was established, signed and sealed, on 24 October 1945. Its 79th birthday coming up soon. With such an international force for good, what could possibly go wrong?

In the face of this positively overwhelming naiveté, it was natural to expect and was the case that humans began joyfully propagating and there was – you know – a boom of babies.

Babies to make up for the millions who had died hideously in trenches, in the horrors of death coming from the sky, crushed under tanks – driven into fields of blood by men in fat armchairs smoking cigars.

Couples were getting married early and began having their children too soon afterwards, pressured by theologians and doctors. And now, here we are, with a boom of grandparents and their sins are being visited upon the heads of their children and their children’s children.

Many of the boom-grandaddies are still running the world, still running for high office, still declaring war on the neighbours of their own kingdoms. They are still vicious corporate bosses, pressuring governments for more loopholes for their taxes, more subsidies for their savage industries.

The rest are a problem of storage, offered in a wide variety of options. The cost of where such humans can spend their last years is up first for consideration. How much per month, what it will take to cover a lunch that may be edible is the burning question. If cost dictates the level of accommodation, what influence do the many ailments of age have on the equation?

And yet there is a more or less fresh approach to aging – that grandparents can still have fun, they can meet in clubs. According to whatever funds they have managed to keep, they are encouraged to travel, to dance and play cards and – golly – enjoy themselves amongst their peers.

I’ve met people who retired and took up residence on a cruise ship in a warm climate. Actually lived full time, visiting the cities and islands on the ship’s agenda and chatting to the ebb and flow of folk taking their turn on the two week program the cruise line includes. 

Passengers on – lots of conversations – passengers off and a new batch come on. Meanwhile, the ship’s grand-passengers eat from the same buffet the tourists enjoy and play shuffleboard when the seas are calm. A fine arrangement, so I think.

A lot of the decision-making is about the relationship between the grands and their descendants and, frankly, how that is going to change once the storage issue is resolved. In a conversation with one of the cruise grands, we asked about not seeing his children and grandchildren whilst away aboard a ship most of the time.

He replied, “They moved away for a job and we only saw each other once or twice a year unless we went to them. We can see them that much here! There’s been more than one Christmas shared on board ship and they were the best ever – the ladies don’t have stacks of dishes to wash on Boxing Day!”

Twinkle in his eye, the old man laughed at me and went down to the bar for his Happy Hour whiskey.

There was nothing but to agree with him, for there are far too many grands living in pretty dismal conditions where those in charge of their lives stored them and dodge the embarrassment by visiting rarely. The grands-hearts grieve and maybe cling to memories of babies in the few photos they have on the bit of wall that constitutes their home – a room shared with three others and a hallway lined with souls in wheelchairs waiting for their turn in the dining room.

Anyone who grumbles about getting old within my hearing, though, is reminded about the alternative – an earlier death.

Hats off to the determination of those grands who can and do gather to celebrate their longevity. Aging begins right away. We are born and it is well thought to prepare ourselves to care for the bodies and minds we have by attending to what we consume on every level; to do whatever we can for others in the small and big pictures.

Laughter is the best medicine says the old adage and we believe that with all our hearts.

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