Growing Up. Growing Old.
After one reaches a certain age, we quit counting our age in terms of 13 1/2 or 5 and 3/4. It seems easier to just note the number of decades we have been gracing the planet with our presence. The once resilient, limber bodies that we had have now become a childhood favorite cereal motto - Snap, Crackle, and Pop.
Even harder than coping with our personal aging woes, is the process of watching our parents age. Especially if the adult child has been away for a long time. Intellectually we know that they age as we do. The earth spins around the sun adding another notch on the belt. Visiting for a week here and there doesn't really give us the actual visceral knowledge of what it means to "get old".
Having recently moved back in with my father has made this awareness a stark reality. Although he is only 23 years older than I am, it seems a gaping chasm of time. This lapse of time is much more difficult with a mother or father than a grandparent (they were already old when we were young).
As a child, our parents seem invincible. Especially my dad. He worked hard, long days. There was nothing he couldn't fix or make. Working on a road construction crew for 12-14 hours a day in the summer, he could come home and go to the hay fields and work another 6 hours and get up and do it all over again. Six days a week. Next to him, the Energizer Bunny is a lazy bum.
And he still does at 74 years old. But the years of labor and stoic determination are taking a toll. As an observer, I can only assume that it's by incredible sheer determination that propels him out of bed in the morning when the three alarm clocks rouse him. An iron will to complete the day's tasks and burdens to ensure that those around him are cared for-his children, grandchildren and collies.
It's hard to watch the once Herculean man come home exhausted after working a full day on the job only to head out to do battle with a Machiavellian baler that refuses to be put back together. Or struggle with taking an air conditioner out of the box. All the while his primary concern is making sure those of us staying with him have what they need. Dinner doesn't come until 11:00 allowing himself to sit down long enough to eat a reheated meal and glance at the paper.
Where he finds this grim determination, I don't know. Perhaps he draws on the enduring dirt and the stone that makes up the land that has been in his family for generations. Perhaps it's because it's all he knows. No matter the reason, it is what makes him the foundation of so many lives.
Some of that determination and work ethic was ingrained into my personality. And yet, despite the fact that I have so much respect and admiration for this man, I do not want to become him. I want to learn to sit on the porch and watch the birds come to the Russian Olive and take seeds from the feeder. Watch the sunset paint the clouds. Listen to the winds brush gently through the Ponderosa Pines and know why so many things in this area are called Whispering Pines.
Aging is natural and inevitable. We can't stop the passage of time. Hopefully, we can learn from those going before us, and bring into ourselves, the best qualities of those personal heroes we are surrounded by. And perhaps, without being arrogant, we can learn from the shortcoming we witness and add a dash of new skills to make our own aging process more gracefully and fulfilling.
Even harder than coping with our personal aging woes, is the process of watching our parents age. Especially if the adult child has been away for a long time. Intellectually we know that they age as we do. The earth spins around the sun adding another notch on the belt. Visiting for a week here and there doesn't really give us the actual visceral knowledge of what it means to "get old".
Having recently moved back in with my father has made this awareness a stark reality. Although he is only 23 years older than I am, it seems a gaping chasm of time. This lapse of time is much more difficult with a mother or father than a grandparent (they were already old when we were young).
As a child, our parents seem invincible. Especially my dad. He worked hard, long days. There was nothing he couldn't fix or make. Working on a road construction crew for 12-14 hours a day in the summer, he could come home and go to the hay fields and work another 6 hours and get up and do it all over again. Six days a week. Next to him, the Energizer Bunny is a lazy bum.
It's hard to watch the once Herculean man come home exhausted after working a full day on the job only to head out to do battle with a Machiavellian baler that refuses to be put back together. Or struggle with taking an air conditioner out of the box. All the while his primary concern is making sure those of us staying with him have what they need. Dinner doesn't come until 11:00 allowing himself to sit down long enough to eat a reheated meal and glance at the paper.
Where he finds this grim determination, I don't know. Perhaps he draws on the enduring dirt and the stone that makes up the land that has been in his family for generations. Perhaps it's because it's all he knows. No matter the reason, it is what makes him the foundation of so many lives.
Some of that determination and work ethic was ingrained into my personality. And yet, despite the fact that I have so much respect and admiration for this man, I do not want to become him. I want to learn to sit on the porch and watch the birds come to the Russian Olive and take seeds from the feeder. Watch the sunset paint the clouds. Listen to the winds brush gently through the Ponderosa Pines and know why so many things in this area are called Whispering Pines.Aging is natural and inevitable. We can't stop the passage of time. Hopefully, we can learn from those going before us, and bring into ourselves, the best qualities of those personal heroes we are surrounded by. And perhaps, without being arrogant, we can learn from the shortcoming we witness and add a dash of new skills to make our own aging process more gracefully and fulfilling.
I can relate
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