No Place For Sissies, Part 1: Getting Old

Actress Bette Davis once said, "Old age is no place for sissies."

I don't really think of myself as as old, more like middle-aged. But realistically, unless I live to be 114, I know that I have already lived more years than I can expect to continue living this life.

And I'm starting to understand what old Bette meant, I think.  I know that I am blessed in so many ways.  I have a wonderful wife to whom I have been married for almost 37 years.  Our relationship gets better every year.  I have a wonderful family who love and respect me.  I am still in good health.  I am gainfully employed (at least for the moment). Still, I am beginning to feel some of what Elizabeth Forsythe Hailey meant when she said, "Time is a cruel thief to rob us of our former selves. We lose as much to life as we do to death."

Time has yet to rob me of much of what I hold dear, but it is hard not to think of the future without some trepidation about what lies ahead.  I have seen enough of what happens to people as they get old, and most of it is not good.  I often think it is harder for men to get old than for women, mostly because the men I have known well who have been the victims of Time's thievery have not dealt with it very well.  Who can blame them?  It must be devastating to lose the parts of yourself that define you as a man, your strength, your virility, your abilities, your independence, maybe your self-respect.

When we consider our own mortality, it is inevitable that we make judgments about how well we have lived this life, that we wonder what it all means.  Some folks dwell on the futility of it all.  A famous fictional example of this is Shakespeare's murderous king Macbeth.  Upon learning that his wife had died, Macbeth responded with:

"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."

Steve's modern English translation:  Life is one stupid day after another, and it only leads to death.  Let's get it over with, because although we all struggle through our lives and the challenges we face, we all just end of up dead and forgotten.  It is just a lot of noise, pain, and anger, and in the end, it doesn't mean anything. It means nothing.  

Let me be quick to say that I don't subscribe to Macbeth's conclusions about life, his nihilism. As I follower of Christ, I take comfort in Jesus' words, "I have told you these things, so that you may have peace.  In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart! I have overcome the world." (John 16:33)  Jesus was telling his disciples, and by extension us, that sorrow is just part of this life, and is to be expected, including the kinds of sorrow that come with growing older.  It is not my purpose here to try to convince anyone that they should adopt my beliefs about Christ.  As it has been said, "For those who believe, no proof is necessary.  For those who don't believe, no proof is possible."

However, I believe that whether you believe that life means nothing, or you have a faith or philosophy that gives you hope, growing old and facing what comes with it is not easy.  I think it is important to think about the issues that growing older brings, and so to try to cope with them as best we can. I hope I have a few years before the really hard parts come, but I have thought about a lot of them as I have observed people who are struggling with aging and the losses it brings.  I have looked back over my life, and I have looked forward.  I have struggled with fear of the future, and with fear of the present, and the extreme changes in our culture that have occurred in my lifetime. I have thought about the ways my self-image has changed, and ways it might continue to change as I grow older. I have seen others face death, and have been confronted by my own mortality.

To be honest, I have far more questions than answers. I would like to explore some of those questions with you in a series of blogs called "No Place for Sissies."  Maybe we can answer some of them together.

Copyright © 2013 by Steven W. Fouse