By My Age
By my age I thought I would finally be able to
Finish Moby Dick,
Wait for the meal to be served without eating the roll,
And display unruffled composure when I'm at a cocktail party
where I don't know a single soul
And nobody talks to me,
Instead of wanting to run and hide in the bathroom.
By my age I thought I would finally be able to
Read a tax return,
Admit that I'm wrong when I'm wrong--and not gloat
when I'm right,
And display serene acceptance when I watch my married son
walk out into the cold and snowy night
In a pair of torn sneakers
Instead of screaming, Stop! You'll catch pneumonia.
By my age I thought I would finally be able to
Speak coherent French,
Refrain from providing advice unless someone begs,
And display mature detachment when this lady M.B.A. with
perfect skin and even better legs
Makes a play for my husband,
Instead of plotting to push her face in the pasta.
By my age I thought I would finally be able to
Cope with Celsius
Drive to New Jersey without getting lost every time,
And display a mature and serene and composed and detached
and unruffled acceptance of all that I'm
Still not able to do
By my age.
And Now You Want to Know If There Is Anything
Good to Say about Getting Older
We aren't as self-centered as we used to be.
We're not as self-pitying--or as just plain dumb.
Middle age has come, and we find
(Along with the inability to sleep all night without
a trip to the bathroom)
A few compensations.
We aren't as uncertain as we used to be.
We've learned to tell the real from the tinsel and fluff.
Getting old is tough, but we find
(Along with the inability to shave our legs unless
we're wearing our glasses)
A few compensations.
We aren't as compliant as we used to be.
We choose our own oughts and musts and got-to's and shoulds.
We're deep into the woods, yet we find
(Along with the inability to eat a pepperoni pizza at
bedtime)
A few compensations.
We aren't as judgmental as we used to be.
We're quicker to laugh, and not as eager to blame.
There's time left in this game. May we find
(Along with the inability to tell ourselves that
we'll keep playing forever)
A few compensations.
Judith Viorst, Forever Fifty and other negotiations, Simon and Schuster, 1989.
It took Judith Viorst 20 years (1969-1989) to produce the poems I've shared with you in just the last 3 days. (She's gone on producing these snapshots of life for 30 more). Literature is a time machine that is available to us all; we can journey with one author through her life and work or hop through time and space just by going down the next aisle in the library.
If we can acknowledge to ourselves that our path will eventually lead in the same general direction as the rest of humanity, we have a chance to gain some insight into our own future. Not 50 yet? If you are lucky, someday you will be--so be prepared to gain some things, just as you are losing others. But if you're not 50 yet, maybe you should just be busy living the age you are right now and gain the experience and wisdom that are available to you. Your body, your mind, your employment, your family, your social circle...all of these things change as you age; some changes are good, some less so, but it's your life to treasure and to build. There are compensations.
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