I’ve been practicing what it feels like to be an old man for years now.
An old man with all the good parts, none of the bad.
The pace that is measured, unrushed.
Days that spill out like a cracked egg always the same, always not.
The solace of being left all alone. But also the option for companions, however remote.
To be old with more of your life behind you than before, a private study full of books with softened spines, a musty air.
A certain peace to just gaze upon that place, on all you’ve collected and amassed.
A peace in knowing that even if you wanted to, you don’t have room to add much more.
So let us not disparage the old but celebrate its gifts. Celebrate before the bad parts creep in,
before we go cold.
Bill Pearse 
I always liked that it is sung by Young. Lately I’ve been a little more Running Dry.
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Never caught that! Nice one man. The people who owned our house before us were called that and for a time, the trash collection bins said YOUNG. Love that song. Will dip into Running Dry just for kicks. Thanks for that, man.
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The eerie fiddle on Running Dry, now I know the one. And sorry you’ve felt that way of late. Remorseful eh? A kind of dirge, that one.
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Yup – old fills the gap between warm vigorous young muscles and ice-cold rigidity of death – I see “old” differently now that I fit into its mold … so far the pleasures still outweigh llimitations – good post to reflect on!
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Dude you’re 75?! If I read right in a recent post of yours? You had me duped right quick!
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Well, only in body!!
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Vanity made me hope this was allegorical, so I looked ’round to check; no going back now.
But smiling. I’m still reading Bill.
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Nice one David, I’m fantasizing about visiting Australia still too.
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Fantasizing, the best part of planning.
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Right!
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Took an 89 yo client out for coffee yesterday and talk drifted to his wife’s occasional grumpiness by end of day and their coping strategies. I mentioned her humour and he said, give me an example. I reminded him of how when one day I asked if they minded if I use the ‘loo she said yes, no worries, you know where it is … and where the silver is.
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Ha ha what a nice vignette. 89 yo client! Wowee zowee, and still partnered…how lovely is that. Fuck sake we’d all be entitled to some grumpiness come day end, by then.
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Re planning: you bringing the family?
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Yeah! Would do! I’ll write if it becomes real. I seem to recall you talking about some beach around Christmastime last year.
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A vision of crocodile rock, which is visible from Murphy’s Bay (north of Sydney) just popped into my mind. It could be that or it could be just a random, courtesy of this fosilising brain.
Of to work now.
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Knock ‘em dead, so to speak.
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Amen, remote companion.
Find myself pondering the famous couplet, “rage, rage against the dying of the light”. Being weighed down by sedimented anger, that’s the way I’ve always interpreted “rage”. But lately I’m thinking maybe “burn” might be more… something. Burn not with anger or ardour but with the quieter passion of glowing coals.
“Better to burn out than fade away”?
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Yeah remote companion alright. Sorry about the weight for you there, the anger. Friend of mine thinks that comes as a reaction from wanting more control. Sounds right to me. Toasting you in absentia tonight, for our book club thing!
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I stumbled over that title several times before I got the right melody. Kept trying to make it fit with “Take a look at my girlfriend, she’s the only one I got.”
The thought of being old with most of of my life behind me doesn’t sit well. I don’t know who that guy in the mirror is, but otherwise I feel as young as ever.
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I did too on the melody. Nice banjo though. I know about the guy in the mirror and glad you feel good, me too. “Clean livin’.”
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Growing old –
The good:
Compassion
Patience
Empathy
The Bad:
Aches
Regret
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Concise and spot on! Thanks Jeff.
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I like that image, a musty study, the books with softened spines and I guess the reader will have a little osteoporosis, too. But I expect even as an old man, there will still be something to make your backbone slip.
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Yeah couldn’t resist the softened spines link there. A strong back is the key to a long life perhaps. Why do used book stores smell so good? How is it that mustiness has a kind of warmth to it?
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Could just be off-gassing from the crumbling leaves, the disintegration of dead trees. But I choose to think, the books breath out all that smart stuff that was put into ’em, and maybe the emotions invested in them by previous readers. That slightly funky warmth is also from the traces of mustard on some of the pages, I like to read while I eat.
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Ha ha ha yes. Yellow mustard as opposed to the coarse German kind. Love the elasticity of your imagination here, bendy like salt water taffy right out of the vat
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Hey Bradley thanks for sharing and reading, and nice to meet you my friend! Be well, Bill
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