October 15, 2019 —By Frances Kolarek —
One of the things I hope to accomplish by this blog is to reassure those in terror of aging that life in the upper years can be happy, fun and full of delightful surprise — if you are not overtaken by ill health.
And now we have Dr. Ezekiel Emanuel at 57, writing an article in the September 2014 Atlantic titled, “Why I hope to Die at 75.” Because, he says, “We are no longer remembered as vibrant and engaged but as feeble, ineffectual, even pathetic.” That tired, old stereotype.
Zeke, honey, I wish I could share a martini with you, press my 97-year old hand on your 57-year-old-arm and tell you that your views of aging leave me ROFL (Rolling on the floor laughing). You really, really don’t know what you are talking about.
Visit this retirement community [Collington] where I live. There are a lot of trees and a little lake that attracts Canada geese. We have a good chef who wants to please us and keeps the salt down, but there are shakers on the dining room tables.
I am surrounded by people over 75, in their eighties, looking forward to celebrating their 90th, and even a couple of 100-year olds, one of whom, when the weather is clement, walks our nature trails for an hour every afternoon. I published a book five or six years ago. We go to the theater and concerts and our beauty shop is busy keeping grandmothers looking like they’re in their 50s.
Zeke, by the time you reach 75 you may have decided to throw caution to the winds and thumb your nose at the future. Eat steak every night, have half a bottle of wine, what the hell, polish it off, and spend the night with that gorgeous 75-year old gal you met yesterday.
Honestly, I don’t take your 75-is-long-enough-to-iive nonsense all that seriously. But it sure has created an uproar. Bet you are enjoying the attention!
Hey! Here’s a suggestion. Just wait until 75 — and then really, really start to enjoy life.