From the arrogance of youth I always thought of my Grandmother as old even though she was in her early 50's when I was born. She was an active lady who flew to Florida and Las Vegas by herself in the 60's when most people were not that casual about air travel. Due to rheumatoid arthritis her husband "Pappy" was confined to a wheel chair at age 39 until he died. Consequently she was, by necessity, the breadwinner and, as such, made most of the decisions. Not that he would have been able to stop much of her independent spirit.
She was a wild card in the years when ladies were prim, proper and stayed home. From flapper to sales woman to landlord she was not a lady who took much advice from anyone. Though her husband and son swore she could not do whatever it was she wanted to do (legally, morally, etc.), she just ignored them. The stories of her escapades and wild driving were legendary, but she always managed to transport us safely "by the grace of the Almighty". She got out of a speeding ticket once by claiming the wheelchair was mine and she was in a hurry to get me home as I wasn't feeling well. Pappy just sat quietly during this massive lie fiddling with his pipe.
From her I learned that age is just a number and from my Grandfather that a minor difficulty such as not being able to walk was taken "in stride" as we did everything and went everywhere we wanted. No handicapper accessible back then so we had exotic restaurant tours through the kitchens of swanky night spots. A ramp at the house was poured with heel indents so he could maneuver up and down the two-story ramp with ease, often with a grandchild on his lap. As I look back I don't know if I could have managed it, but his attitude was just do it and worry about whether it's even "possible" after success or failure.
Digress: My Grandfather and I watched a movie where a lady was disguising the fact she could walk and was in a wheelchair. In a subsequent fire she leaped out of her chair to safety. Pappy saw my speculative look at him and said "Don't you dare think about it". I'm a card. Speaking of which I would cheat at the card game of War so he could win. Of course he knew; he was a massively successful card shark who parlayed his poker winnings at the horse races for fun.
That could be why I think of aging as a minor inconvenience and am usually surprised when I leap up from a seated position and stagger like I just imbibed a snootful of booze. Surely the lady cannot be gassed on one glass of wine, well two. Nope. The darn hips lock up and cause a unintended hokey pokey dance until everything unkinks. Something they don't tell you -- or you wouldn't believe in the rosy flush of youth -- your mind stays at 18 or 20 but sometimes your body has other ideas.
Also your skin becomes like tissue paper! A minor bump against a stationary object sets off intensely painful reverberations. One literally vibrates. Stubbing a toe in the dark sends you to a new dimension. A minor fall becomes a bruise as big as a baby's head, but not as cute. One positive thought, however. Body hair kind of surrenders due to those pesky hormonal changes meaning less need for frequent grooming. I believe I shaved my legs for a month before I realized I had no blade in the razor. No worries! But a new razor means extremely delicate manipulations due to the tissue paper skin referenced earlier.
As become older I ponder more. (No doubt too much time on my hands) Do we become more afraid or just more aware of the consequences? Are we hesitant to change or is it the voice of experience? Is it new or just repackaged "crap" from an earlier time? Are we suddenly invisible or just irrelevant? Do we try so hard to look younger that our value as a wise elder is disguised? Do I really have something to say or am I being annoying.
Ah well. Time to pop the top on my convertible and hammer Bon Jovi at jet engine decibel levels...WHOO OHH
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