From
here on my blog switches gears back and forth between memoir (“Past 90”) and
OpEds on current happenings. “New Post” announcements will usually be sent out
for OpEds, not memoir entries — just an occasional reminder invitation to visit
me at this site if you have the time and inclination.
PAST 90
There was an article recently about a woman of
104 years busily engaged in writing a book that is eagerly awaited by scholars
acquainted with her earlier writings. That’s beyond remarkable. She still has
her marbles and memory (at least enough of them) and the work habits to carry
on.
I’m “only” 91 and in pretty good shape for my
age, so I feel obliged (to myself) once more to reflect in writing on my life
and times. Years ago I would have thought such ambition remarkable for a
nonagenarian. Now, however, it’s nothing to brag about. Being over 90 is almost
unthinkable for me, but the put-downs greet me: ‘Oh, someone I know is 98 and
still playing tennis, or 93 and jogging around Lake Merritt!’
Though the last of Shakespeare’s seven stages
may come later than it used to, it still looms over our vanishing years.
Aging is full of surprises. They start
appearing early. It was a shock, when playing pick-up basketball into my late
40s, I suddenly discovered I could no longer leap high enough to reach the rim
of the basket. I felt I was jumping as always, only the results were different.
Not long after, an opposing team assigned a 12 year old to guard me. It was
past time for me to give up.
That was long, long ago. Getting back to
surprises of the present, particularly the ones that may impinge on my writing
ambitions: I get very sleepy throughout the day. I doze briefly but repeatedly
when I read, go to a play or a concert or watch tv (I avoid lectures
altogether). Even news of great interest — in newspapers, on the internet or tv
— is not sure to keep my eyes open without cat naps. I still manage to take
things in and I’m passionate about what goes on in the world, about books and
music as well as politics, but it’s a constant challenge of will.
Then there’s the memory problem. A lot is
remembered, even details, but the wheels turn very slowly to churn up what’s
there. A serious surprise is the deficit in concentration. I used to be able to
keep more than one thing in mind at a time, to hang on to thoughts and call
them up as I wished. I even remembered dreams and ideas that came to me as I
lay in bed. Now nighttime thoughts mysteriously disappear in seconds —
something seems very clear and important and a moment later I can’t even recall
the subject.
I think this “concentration” problem —
difficulty with multi-tasking or multi-thinking, the tendency to be easily
distracted — is a common and serious aging affliction. At least it is for me.
Maybe that’s what makes driving somewhat riskier for old folk. My reflexes are
good and I drive well, but I have to focus with determination and avoid being
distracted by conversation.
Here I
am, on the high end of physical condition and mental health compared to most
people past 80 years of age, but I now have a different grasp of “dementia”
than when I first heard that jarring term. For most people, aging doesn’t bring
a drastic loss of mental function as with Alzheimer’s or anything like it. But
things are not what they used to be. How could they be? Even though I still
walk the three miles around Lake Merritt with friends, as I have for more than
20 years, I puff and wheeze on small inclines or stairs. How could my old mind
not do some wheezing of its own?
Of course the marvelous brain, even an old
brain, is much more malleable and capable of adapting to new challenges than an
old knee or hip. I’m counting on that.
Anyway,
on with my journey.
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