In Praise of Octogenarians and Their Elders

When I was a little girl, the Old Testament story about Methuselah was one I found fascinating. It was a true story—I knew that because I’d been taught that the Bible was the word of God and represented truth.

The tale in Genesis told how Methuselah, who lived to be 969 years old, was already 187 years of age when his son Lamech was born. I had trouble getting my head around a father being that much older than his child. My father was thirty-one years older than I, which I found worrying, because most of my friends had dads who were nearly ten years younger.

I was a few weeks away from becoming nine, when my dad turned forty, and in my mind, the event was a catastrophe. I spent his birthday celebration in tears, because, as I told him through my sobs, “After forty, you can die any day.” I can still hear his gales of laughter.

My dad would live to be four months shy of his ninetieth birthday, and died while taking a nap, leaving open on his bedside table the most recent issue of Scientific American. We should all be so lucky.

Fast forward from Methuselah to the twenty-first century—and “Eighty is the new forty.” It surely seems that way when a ninety-year-old actor is blasted into space just for kicks. “Go, William Shatner!”

Perhaps no American better epitomizes the art of growing old with grace, as well as with all her wits about her, than Betty White, the nonagenarian who will hit her century mark in less than a month, at which time she will join a group of Americans that significantly outnumbers the nonagenarian Queen Elizabeth II’s entire British armed forces.

As a mere septuagenarian, I enjoy observing how those older than I demonstrate a zest for living. I well know that, with a little luck, my time will come to step into the next decade, and while I don’t find myself leaping for joy at the prospect of that event, for sure I can say, “It’s better than the alternative.” Once having joined the ranks of what some might call “the elderly,” I imagine I’ll do what so many of them seem to do—carry on as they did in their seventies, sixties, fifties and forties. That includes enjoying the substitution of one activity for another as suits the maturing mind and body. 

Just today, I received an email from a ninety-year-old woman in Houston who was reminding me that we have a date to see Poulenc’s Dialogues of the Carmelites on January 14 at the Houston Grand Opera. She is as chipper as she was half a century ago.

There’s a quiet confidence I notice in octogenarians. Having been forged in the fire of life’s blessings and curses, they have come to enjoy the gift of wisdom. They can choose to ignore unpleasantries and focus on what brings them joy, be it physical, intellectual or spiritual stimulation, or quite likely a combination of them.

What I find most appealing about chilling out with my octogenarian friends (yes, that’s how I think of it) is the pleasure they take in reminiscing about days gone by—recounting their youthful indiscretions long before they had to acquiesce to societal norms as they settled down and raised their families. In their golden years, they are once again liberated from many of the constraints of society, and reliving their “misspent” youth acts as an antidote to aging.

There’s a virtuous cycle that evolves from social engagement and stimulation, both physical and cerebral, that together with the miracles of modern medicine is extending longevity. Octogenarians are one of the fastest growing age groups in the country, with nonagenarians accelerating even more rapidly.
Dwelling on the most senior members of our society brings to mind the prolific American philosopher, essayist and transcendentalist, Ralph Waldo Emerson, who himself lived to within of month of becoming an octogenarian. His description of success is both apt and touching when read in the context of those who have led a long and fruitful life. 

“To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; to leave the world a little better—whether it be a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is the meaning of success.”