I’m in no hurry to catch flight to Geezerville
We were flying from Seattle to New York to host a party for my mother-in-law’s 85th birthday, but when we went to board our connection to La Guardia from Detroit, the gate agent said the flight had been canceled.
Annoyed is the best word to describe how we felt upon hearing the news. The gate agent told us to rebook tickets for the next day, and she followed her curt advice with a vulgar comment as we walked away.
While we waited in line to reschedule our flight, anxious that we wouldn’t make it in time to prepare for the party, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Excuse me,” a gentleman said. “My wife and children and I were booked on the same canceled flight as you and were behind you in line. You must report that young woman’s rudeness to a supervisor. I live in Brooklyn now, but we come from Malaysia., and in my country we respect the elderly.”
Although we had crossed the line into AARP eligibility, it was the first time anyone had referred to us as “elderly.”
Our offspring, who we met in New York the next day, thought it was hilarious.
I imagined a Boy Scout now taking our arms to usher us across the street. Were we also on our way to engaging in the elderly activity of “organ recitals” where the aches and pains of aging are compared with others?
I’d always preferred to think we’d someday be more like my 95-year-old grandmother who could outlast her seven offspring on any outing right up until the time she passed away.
For ourselves and our children, my grandmother will reign forever as the model of how to age graciously.
Rather than entering Geezerville, people like my grandmother are still mentoring others, volunteering at museums, hospitals and schools, or striking out on a whole new career.
For those well enough to try something new after they’ve retired, the game is far from over.
Do dreams have expiration dates, or is it OK to try something we’ve always wanted to do?
Apparently the late-blooming artist Grandma Moses didn’t believe in expiration dates. Neither did George Burns, who won an Oscar at 80.
And we would have missed a lot if the 64-year-old Laura Ingalls Wilder had thought she was too old to write the book that became the basis for the television series “Little House on the Prairie.”
At any age, finding meaning and purpose in life rates above all else.
The experts tell us to set goals for what we want to achieve in life, then evaluate as time goes by to see if we are on track to reach them.
A job evaluation or promotion may show that we are succeeding in the arena of business, but how often do we evaluate how well we are headed toward becoming the kind of person we aim to be?
Most of us want to be around people who, no matter their age, continue to be immersed and invested in life and others. Few of us want to be with a relative or friend who always berates us for something, like not coming often enough to see him or her.
But someone who acts delighted to see us, no matter how long it’s been since our last visit, will always have company even as they finish the race.
They say, “It ain’t over till the fat lady sings,” but maybe it’s not over, even for the “seasoned citizen,” until we stop singing.
Joan Brown of Steilacoom is a freelance writer and author of the book “Move — And Other Four-Letter Words.” She is one of six reader columnists who write for this page.
This story was originally published June 15, 2018 at 3:00 PM with the headline "I’m in no hurry to catch flight to Geezerville."