There are lots of traditions of “how to grow old” in less than pleasant ways:
- There’s the cantankerous strong-willed (and occasionally frolicsome) oldster. In my mind, the template for this tradition was Twin Peaks Mayor Dwayne Milford, as shown in this scene (“I don’t wanna talk. I wanna shoot!”):
- Then there’s the sort of soft-focus aging depicted in movies like Cocoon and On Golden Pond.
- Of course, there are always plenty of news reports — no longer even remotely funny — of the aged wandering away from nursing homes, never to be seen again…
- …or, alternatively, of their getting behind the wheel of a car and plowing through markets filled with mothers and children.
(See what followed this scene by scrolling a little more than halfway down the page at the Twin Peaks Episode Guide: Episode 21. Search for the text string “Act 4” if you’re impatient.)
Thank God for the counter-examples.
The Telegraph (UK) recently reprinted an interview with someone with her head screwed on straight about getting older: “At 91, Diana Athill has moved from a distinguished career in publishing to success as a memoirist — and has now won the Costa prize for biography.” Excerpts:
“At first I thought there wasn’t much to say about growing older except that it’s bloody. Seventy is the beginning of being old, I felt really old when I was 80 and really really old when I was 90.” What she calls the ebbing of sex comes in the late sixties. “Rather a relief, not going to bed with anyone any more. One has the chance to enjoy men for other reasons.”
If she had one piece of advice it would be to get up in the morning. “What you must do is defy the languid movement, get out of bed and make yourself do something.”
…
What does get better, she said, is not minding what people think. “Though I enjoy bothering about clothes and I don’t like being seen without a good foundation to hide the veins and the shiny bits. My hair is very short because I’ve hardly any left, just a spider’s web over a pink scalp, but my dear man in Regent’s Park who cuts it agrees it’s not wig time yet.
“It’s false cheerfulness to say things get better because most things get worse, but occasionally things that are rarer in one’s life can be more delicious: a recent visit to York, for instance — absolute heaven when I got there. Or seeing the Russians at the Royal Academy from a self-propelling wheelchair, or playing with little Alexander who’s just moved in downstairs. One of the things that make me love writing or looking at pictures is that you become unconscious of yourself. Anything absorbing makes you become not ‘I’ but ‘eye’ — you escape the ego.”
And, speaking of a reviewer of her most recent book, who had said,”It is sad to think that the secret of a spry and contented old age is selfishness”:
“Selfishness,” she says. “A sobering thought — I think the bastard’s probably right.”
(Hat tip to Nuts & Mutton. The Telegraph article originally appeared in last summer’s issue of Intelligent Life.)
Tessa says
Thanks for the H/T, John. You’ve listed some interesting … and very unattractive … ways of aging. Definitely the Athill model for me.
marta says
Ah aging. It is a shame the nonsense we out on aging in this country–you are hardly allowed to have a personality. People expect you just to be old.
I have more to say, but my young son objects.
marta says
Oh, and I want to add–I LOVE Twin Peaks. My novel has been accused by a few different people as having a Twin Peaks feel…
Sarah says
I just finished Jane Fonda’s autobiography (more on my blog about that later) and she of course, talks about making On Golden Pond. Katherine Heburn was a hoot! I’d like to age like she did- full of spark, no “sogginess” is how she put it, another way of defying the languid moment…
John says
Tessa: Part of me wants to say I admire the “Do not go gently…” philosophy. I mean, adjectives like “robust,” “feisty,” all that — they’re all good things, right?
But I think a larger part of me wants to be, well, sane about it all. Athill sure sounds sane to me.
marta: For The Missus and me, pretty much no cultural landmark counts so much as Twin Peaks. When we first met online, that was TP’s first (half-)season; we’d watch an episode and immediately retreat to our respective computers for a round of what, these days, would be considered chat. (It moved a lot more slowly back then.) We’ve had the soundtrack ever since it came out, and even today the first few notes of the theme song can unhinge us. We’re rather sentimental about it. :)
I should probably do a post about it one of these days. When it was good, it was very very good. And even when it wasn’t that “good,” it was still enjoyable as hell.
Sarah: Have you ever seen Dick Cavett’s old interviews with Hepburn? (See here if not.) She was something else — another of those cultural touchstones for me and my wife (one of the world’s foremost authorities on movies made before 1965 or so — thanks to her movie-lovin’ mother).
Jules says
Oh I love this. Just love it. “Defy the languid movement.” So perfect.
Jules, trying to hard to get caught up on her favorite blogs — but spinning her wheels with too much to do
Jules says
Hey, my anti-spam words were “hussey” and “girl.” You trying to tell me something?
John says
Jules: I have a feeling that Diana Athill would be perfectly happy to wear those words on a T-shirt. And hey, if it’s good enough for her…!
marta says
Hey, did you not notice my Laura Palmer tee-shirt a few posts back? Well?
John says
marta: Er… no. (So much for being a chronic noticer!)