When a geriatrician asked an audience of people working in healthcare how many of them expected to die, very few raised their hand. Then she asked, “Would you prefer to be old when it happens?"
Great advice. Aging is a horror show in slo mo. So eat the ice cream 🍦, laugh at the irony, stop looking in the mirror and stay up late enough to see the stars. ⭐️
Speaking as an about-to-be 81 year old, I’d say that degenerative disease is the horror show.
Absolutely eat the ice cream — and chocolate chip cookies (without nuts, in my case!), steak or hamburger and visit friends if you can, or call them often enough that you can keep up with their lives, or (gasp!!) write them a letter.
Help others, whether with a smile or money or flowers from your garden or something home cooked. (like chocolate chip cookies… or bread!). If you still get print media, see if someone wants it when you’re done.
Stay engaged with the world the best you’re able. No matter how much less that may be than when you were 40 or 60 or 80, you are still valuable.
I belong to a weekly breakfast group, the ROMEOs, Retired Old Men Eating Out. Politics and religion are off limits. But health issues are not. As the physician, I am the go-to guy. Sorta. Guess what? It's interesting, and most of the time, we make it fun. Oh, one other thing. We ALL believe the breakfasts will never end.
How amazing! She’s got all the facts at her fingertips! She is so talented and informed about death and dying , and yet she is so humorous! Judith, you rock, with or without a chair!
Who wants to look like a leaf of kale anyway? Thank you for reminding us.
And though 88, I find the idea and image of a bunch of seniors training for an Active Shooter Drill hilarious.
How immature of me?
But then again I loved “Hell’s Grannies” on Monty Python.
You know of course you could be brought to the CEO’s office of Sunny Hills (or I forgot its name) and expelled for your irreverence. Or you could be denied dessert for a week. You choose. “We believe in that here at Sunny Hills!”
Whether voluntary or involuntary, rich or poor, luxury or shabby, educated or uneducated, the physical and psychological segregation of the elderly is a quiet crime against humanity.
My best times are with younger people—from young children to not quite seniors. I don’t neglect or avoid my remaining older friends. Most are gone. Those who are, I write about.
Who in their right minds wants a kale salad with a side of kale on the side?
I keep waiting for the deplorable kale trend to be over. But, damn — it’s still going strong, punishing me for my dislike of dark green vegetables. I’ve finally decided the Rule of Kale will outlive me. No wonder the world’s going to hell.
But thank you, Judith Hannah Weiss, Epstein Irwin, and Sari Botton, for your wit and wisdom as I continue to treat myself to a daily ice cream.
Spot on! Rich on stats, insights, and sassiness! An excellent piece that doesn’t shy away from the indignities of aging, but told with good humor and wit.
I read this after lying awake for an hour, refusing to check the time. Then I checked the time: 4 am. Decided not to be mad at myself and had some coffee. The house is quiet and I am in the midst of my third great change: moving internationally, into the unknown.
Good piece. I, too, often feel I have too many tabs open (and they're all fighting for attention). As for the 'assisted living' facility, my widowed mother-in-law managed to go through quite a substantial amount of savings before several falls sent her from 'assisted' living to barely living (in a nursing home). Then, after two years in a tiny shared room with a television eternally tuned to the Hallmark Channel and a drawer full of Depends, she was out of funds entirely; an extensive application process completed by her son brought her Medicaid relief...for the last two months of her life. And the facilities she was in were considered among the best in the area. I don't fear death. I fear a very expensive and uninteresting half death.
Thanks, Judith, for the reminder that life's a farce. A poor player that struts and frets its hour on the stage and then bingo, is gone. You ease my going.
"My friend Ned is 95. He walks holding a very tall rollator he calls a “chariot.” Every Friday, when they bake cornbread here, Ned spreads first extra butter, then extra honey, on two pieces and savors them slowly. He also goes to the gym four times a week, eats ice cream every day, stays smart, strong and slim. " My role model.
An addition (sorry to take up so much space)....I just read your other posts and caught a lot of infectious joy from them. I feel better already! (And I think my hip does, too!)
All of my older relatives live(d) in CCRCs. This essay describes the communities perfectly, i.e., no one wants to move there but we all might have to, one day. When we do, I hope we meet a few Judiths to help us adjust.
Great advice. Aging is a horror show in slo mo. So eat the ice cream 🍦, laugh at the irony, stop looking in the mirror and stay up late enough to see the stars. ⭐️
Thank you. I am grateful for your support.
And, btw, we can’t forget to live while we’re doing all that aging. Living should comprise at least as much time in the day as aging does.
What a great comment! I had to thank you again.
Your honest observations are refreshing, funny and wise. Thank you!
Thank you Janet - quite the compliment. May I quote you?
Speaking as an about-to-be 81 year old, I’d say that degenerative disease is the horror show.
Absolutely eat the ice cream — and chocolate chip cookies (without nuts, in my case!), steak or hamburger and visit friends if you can, or call them often enough that you can keep up with their lives, or (gasp!!) write them a letter.
Help others, whether with a smile or money or flowers from your garden or something home cooked. (like chocolate chip cookies… or bread!). If you still get print media, see if someone wants it when you’re done.
Stay engaged with the world the best you’re able. No matter how much less that may be than when you were 40 or 60 or 80, you are still valuable.
I belong to a weekly breakfast group, the ROMEOs, Retired Old Men Eating Out. Politics and religion are off limits. But health issues are not. As the physician, I am the go-to guy. Sorta. Guess what? It's interesting, and most of the time, we make it fun. Oh, one other thing. We ALL believe the breakfasts will never end.
How amazing! She’s got all the facts at her fingertips! She is so talented and informed about death and dying , and yet she is so humorous! Judith, you rock, with or without a chair!
So glad you enjoyed this, Mom. <3
Thank you. If you are Sari's Mom, as I think you may be, I admire you and am deeply grateful for her.
<3
I am proud to be Sari’s mom, and I am greatly impressed by you.
Back at you. Deeply grateful to you and to her.
Who wants to look like a leaf of kale anyway? Thank you for reminding us.
And though 88, I find the idea and image of a bunch of seniors training for an Active Shooter Drill hilarious.
How immature of me?
But then again I loved “Hell’s Grannies” on Monty Python.
You know of course you could be brought to the CEO’s office of Sunny Hills (or I forgot its name) and expelled for your irreverence. Or you could be denied dessert for a week. You choose. “We believe in that here at Sunny Hills!”
Whether voluntary or involuntary, rich or poor, luxury or shabby, educated or uneducated, the physical and psychological segregation of the elderly is a quiet crime against humanity.
My best times are with younger people—from young children to not quite seniors. I don’t neglect or avoid my remaining older friends. Most are gone. Those who are, I write about.
Who in their right minds wants a kale salad with a side of kale on the side?
Great comment. Thank you.
I keep waiting for the deplorable kale trend to be over. But, damn — it’s still going strong, punishing me for my dislike of dark green vegetables. I’ve finally decided the Rule of Kale will outlive me. No wonder the world’s going to hell.
But thank you, Judith Hannah Weiss, Epstein Irwin, and Sari Botton, for your wit and wisdom as I continue to treat myself to a daily ice cream.
Great comment, although I do eat kale.
Oh, dear! Well, I still love your writing.
But have you tried our Kale Sorbet? 👩🏼🍳
You can do anything you want with sorbet, Irwin, but keep your mitts off ice cream.
It only good with hot fudge sauce.
Yum.
I have had carrot sorbet.
Spot on! Rich on stats, insights, and sassiness! An excellent piece that doesn’t shy away from the indignities of aging, but told with good humor and wit.
Thank you. I am honored by your words.
I loved this. But then Judith Hannah Weiss wrote it, so I couldn’t NOT love it.
Honored by your words, because they are YOUR words. Thank you. Always.
Deeply grateful to you and for you. Thank you.
I read this after lying awake for an hour, refusing to check the time. Then I checked the time: 4 am. Decided not to be mad at myself and had some coffee. The house is quiet and I am in the midst of my third great change: moving internationally, into the unknown.
Thank you for your words and good luck with your move.
Good piece. I, too, often feel I have too many tabs open (and they're all fighting for attention). As for the 'assisted living' facility, my widowed mother-in-law managed to go through quite a substantial amount of savings before several falls sent her from 'assisted' living to barely living (in a nursing home). Then, after two years in a tiny shared room with a television eternally tuned to the Hallmark Channel and a drawer full of Depends, she was out of funds entirely; an extensive application process completed by her son brought her Medicaid relief...for the last two months of her life. And the facilities she was in were considered among the best in the area. I don't fear death. I fear a very expensive and uninteresting half death.
“But sometimes we remember the love we made, the hell we raised, the lives we may have changed. Or even improved.”
Yes, please.
Fun to end on a smile, but what I appreciated even more with this posting was the lack of sugar coating. Thank you.
Thank you for your words.
Thanks, Judith, for the reminder that life's a farce. A poor player that struts and frets its hour on the stage and then bingo, is gone. You ease my going.
Wow. Hilarious and heartbreaking. Nailed it.
Thank you for your words. Love them.
"My friend Ned is 95. He walks holding a very tall rollator he calls a “chariot.” Every Friday, when they bake cornbread here, Ned spreads first extra butter, then extra honey, on two pieces and savors them slowly. He also goes to the gym four times a week, eats ice cream every day, stays smart, strong and slim. " My role model.
Deeply grateful for each of your words.
Ned is wonderful and I'm glad to bring him to you.
An addition (sorry to take up so much space)....I just read your other posts and caught a lot of infectious joy from them. I feel better already! (And I think my hip does, too!)
All of my older relatives live(d) in CCRCs. This essay describes the communities perfectly, i.e., no one wants to move there but we all might have to, one day. When we do, I hope we meet a few Judiths to help us adjust.
I would love to meet you!
Please, God, no. I’d go quietly into the night over pickle ball any day. And besides, it sounds like a trip hazard.
I read this to my wife over coffee. One of the best I’ve read in some time. Just excellent. Thank you.
Thank you for your readership and for your words.