“You can live to be a hundred if you give up all the things that make you want to live to be a hundred.” — Woody Allen, filmmaker, actor, and comedian.
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Age and I have long been odd acquaintances. I’ve never felt as old as I assumed someone my age should feel. Certainly not as old as that guy looking back at me in the mirror every morning.
Maybe it’s the spill I took a few weeks ago. The one that ended when my body collided with the concrete. Guardian angels were working overtime that day. The fall was harmless. It was the landing that hurt. Luckily, the damage was minimal. But experiences like that can change one’s outlook on aging. And thoughts about living to a ripe old age.
Like 100 or so.
I read recently that one in 10,000 people are termed “slow agers,” someone for whom the odds favor reaching 100. Aging studies fascinate me as one who has always wanted to hang around for as long as possible.
When my parents were the age that I am now, I regarded them as “old.” Really old. I see clearly now that was not the case, however. My father had been retired for 13 years when he was my age, but I can’t give it up. And this age doesn’t look “really old.” Not from this side.
It does seem that time goes by faster than it once did, however. As a kid, waiting a year for Christmas, a birthday, or the last day of school felt like an eternity. Today, years are like weeks. Weeks like hours. How did all that time go by so quickly?
The answer could be rooted somewhere in the percentage of life those measurements of time represented compared to today. For instance, at age 10 those 12 months represented 10 percent of our total life experience. For Baby Boomers like me, it’s less than two percent today.
Guess that’s what Dad meant when he said, “Aging’s like toilet paper. The closer to the end you get, the faster it goes.”
Modern philosophies on aging advocate reaching a ripe old age through healthy living. I try to be “healthy conscience.” To a reasonable degree. Mom always said that most things are acceptable in moderation. She often said those kinds of things while baking sweets for my sisters and me. Guess that’s why I’m inclined to include chocolate chip cookies and banana pudding in my healthy eating. In moderation, of course.
Others theorize that aging is more about genes than lifestyle. I remember my paternal grandfather’s lifestyle. He was born in 1888. I was 19 when he died in 1967. His working career started at the age of 13 in 1901. He worked for the railroad until a few years before he died. Many of those years outdoors. In all kinds of weather.
Although the vice of smoking never appealed to me, I was mesmerized by my grandfather’s ability to manipulate flimsy cigarette paper and Prince Albert tobacco into one smooth roll sealed with a lick and inserted between his lips as he reached for a match.
And when he wasn’t smoking a roll-your-own cigarette, he was puffing on one of his many pipes.
Add to that smoking his unhealthy diet. Fried eggs and bacon for breakfast. Every morning. And my grandmother cooked the best fried chicken for Sunday dinner anyone ever sat down to after church. Used lots of lard and bacon grease from the collection can she kept on her stovetop.
And that unhealthy lifestyle finally got him too — just months short of his 80th birthday.
Both of my parents died in their 80s, as did my father’s parents—if you count my grandfather’s almost 80. Mom’s parents died young, her father in his 50s, and her mom in her early 40s. However, her father had siblings who lived well into their 80s and 90s.
And some of my research reveals that’s a good thing. They say longevity odds may be better in families with lots of elderly relatives swinging from the family tree limbs. That covers my Mom’s family. In more ways than one.
Last but not least, research ranks high on long-life odds for those who continue social engagement activities.
“There was a clear, similar trend among people who had civic engagements, were active in their communities, volunteered, and otherwise stayed connected, whether with families, friends, or coworkers,” according to Leslie R. Martin, a professor of psychology at La Sierra University in Riverside, California, coauthor of The Longevity Project.
More enlightening tidbits from The Longevity Project included findings that religious women lived longer—primarily because of the social connectedness of their faith-based lifestyle. They worship together, join committees, and engage in social outreach.
Mom was faithful in her church activities. She and her good friend from church also enjoyed occasional morning coffee together. Blended with just “a pinch of brandy.” I didn’t see that statistic noted. Must be something to it; however, they both outlived their husbands.
So, what does all my irreverent research mean? Perhaps a ripe old age is good. Just don’t sit home and rot once you’re ripe.
We won’t know for sure until, and if, those 100 candles start to glow. In the meantime, I’m sticking with my secret for longevity—enjoying the things that make me want to live to be a hundred.
At least the things I can still do . . .
—Leon Aldridge
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Aldridge columns are published in these Texas newspapers: The Center Light and Champion, the Mount Pleasant Tribune, the Rosenberg Fort Bend Herald, the Taylor Press, the Alpine Avalanche, The Fort Stockton Pioneer, and The Monitor in Naples.
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