Dimming

I’m 77 and in excellent health. But I’m not who I once was, and I’m not capable of what I once did. Those who say “80 is the new 40″ are liars. 80 is a different kind of 80 than it used to be, but it is an age of dimming

As expected, my senses are less sharp, although adequately functional. I know my mind skips sometimes, trips over lost words, wanders in a void until I snap back. I help by joking about it with myself and my equally afflicted companions. We may be on the back side of peak performance, but life is still infinitely valuable and miraculous. And immense, compared to any other species. 

I try to be graceful about it. There are those who fight fiercely, who resist the idea that they are getting old, who sometimes strive to destruction. I pity them, mostly. Most of the advice offered to such elders these days comes from younger writers who do not have a clue.

The main thing is to accept the inevitable. Our civilization can be the best playground that ever existed for healthy people over 70. Lots to do, experience, enjoy. Things to accomplish. Even while taking it more easily and calmly than when we were young. 

However, I do think it is proper for the seniors to step aside and become advisors and audience, rather than doddering or brittle bitter leaders. 

The world, rightfully, should be regifted to the young.