I am becoming an old person. The years are stacking up. I suppose retirement does that by creating an awareness that the times are changing and there is nothing that can change that. Life is serious and that seriousness is being seen and experienced through younger and fresher eyes. Generations experience life differently. This transition into the realm of elderliness becomes more obvious with each passing day. I and my generation are now becoming categories in Trivial Pursuit and the “do you remember” questions asked at the end of the nightly news. I am becoming a relic . . . and old relic at that.
This is not anything that has been pointed out by the masses. We, there are those smart aleck people who relish the old age putdowns when they have the chance . . . but for the most part it is more subtle. When going out to play with the grandchildren, I hear my children say, “Be careful with Papa.” A reminder that Papa is getting older, slower, and more breakable. Wouldn’t want to break Papa! “You, okay?” is another subtle reminder I get whenever I moan or groan with any movement I make. Most of the time I am just moaning and groaning because it is expected at my age and I do not want to disappoint. Gotta play the part whether there is a reason for the moaning or groaning. The children are gracious in their subtle hints at my movement into being old.
It is not like I am not aware of this transition into old age. I may be old, but I get the hints. The biggest culprit is my body. It seems that arthritis and its buddy rheumatoid like to play tag with the joints and muscles in my hands daily. Sometimes they even expand their playfulness and wander up my arms to camp out in my elbows. Stamina isn’t what it used to be. The heart and lungs rebel more than they used to. They tend to send reminders to slow down and don’t overdo it. The heart is especially adamant in letting me know that if it goes, so goes everything else. Eyesight is fading . . . we now have a drive in size television. Hearing is following closely . . . thank goodness the big screen television comes with closed captioning. I’m not complaining about the hearing going as I am discovering that a lot of what people want to tell me really doesn’t matter to me. Memory is staking a claim in the race to physical disintegration of my body. I catch myself often forgetting little things here and there. Which has actually been wonderful as it has provided multiple epiphanies once I remember what I forget. A whole lot of “oh, yeah” moments.
So, yes, I am joining the ranks of the elderly. I am assuming my place in the geriatric choir where we sing lots of songs from the 1970s—Beatles, Rolling Stones, Aerosmith, CSNY—instead of the hymns of our parents. I am old, but I ain’t dead yet. Nope, I’m experiencing a “Merlin”.
In T.H. White’s Arthurian legend, The Once and Future King, the child Arthur is taught and mentored by the old wizard Merlin. As the story begins Merlin has reached the peak of his age and has begun his descent down the mountain of age. As the child Arthur grows older each year, Merlin grows younger—he lives backwards, starting as an old man and aging toward infancy. I have entered the “Merlin” stage of my life . . . I regress.
What a wonderful gift it has been to backtrack and rediscover the beauty and joy of life that have been repressed by the duties, responsibilities, and expectations of adulthood. There is much to re-learn, re-experience, and re-grasp. Too often I forget this gift . . . this regression. Yet there are those who remind me. Where my children focus on my journey of aging, my grandchildren see the other side. They see the gift of my youth shining through the wrinkles and cracks of old age. They recognize the “child” in me and encourage that “child” to come out and play. After spending a week with two of my visiting grandchildren it is more obvious that the “child” in me is emerging.
And the “child” rejoices.
The greatest gift revealed from my childhood has been silliness. Garrison Keillor recently wrote in his weekly column: “Silliness is essential to human life, it’s proof that life can be joyful, we need not die from indifference.” As my grandchildren have told me many times, “Papa, you are silly.”
They are right. I am silly. A week with my grandchildren amplified the silliness often hidden from the judgmental eyes of adults in my life. From discovering rocks and their hidden identities waiting to be released with a little paint. Drawing pictures with chalk releasing a world others cannot see on the sidewalk before them. Making joyful and beautiful music with a kazoo that others claim is noise. Drawing pirates, Easter bunnies, flowers, caterpillars, and butterflies on windows with markers. Basking in popsicles. Waging battles against unseen foes with all the sound effects of the old Batman series . . . boom, bam, wham, and POW! Wearing two different colored socks. Blowing bubbles in the milk glass. Constantly giggling, laughing . . . and doing it some more . . . at really bad jokes, puns, and riddles. Teasing. A whole lot of silliness.
And it was joyful! A celebration of life. A wonderful dance of love . . . and if you have ever seen me dance, you’d know silliness. For a while nothing else mattered. There wasn’t the drama of a crazy orange person in the White House. No worries about inflation and rising gas prices. No thoughts about war and injustice. No pictures of meanness or cruelty. No fussing and fighting. No darkness blocking the sun. Only blissfulness and joy of embracing the silliness of childhood and life . . . and it was good. For this reminder I am thankful.
I may be seen as old and elderly by the world around me, but I regress. As I regress, the “child” I once was with all the dreams and hope that youth can hold comes tumbling towards me. It is a gift . . . a wondrous, beautiful gift of life that reminds me that I am loved and cared for. I may be getting old, but I am not dead or forgotten. Nope, I’m still here and I am . . . silly. Silly and enjoying life. And it is good . . . really good.
Life is pretty dark and tough right now. We are all experiencing our age in these difficult times. It is frustrating and scary. Dark. Because of this I encourage you to pause, find a child, and spend some time getting silly. It is good for the soul. It will help you to see and remind you that life is good . . . life is beautiful . . . that it is joyful. Silliness reveals what the eyes cannot see but what we need to see. As Johnny Nash once sang:
I can see clearly now, the rain is gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright, bright
Sun-shiny day
It’s gonna be a bright, bright
Sun-shiny day
I think I can make it now, the pain is gone
All the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is the rainbow I’ve been prayin’ for
It’s gonna be a bright, bright
Sun-shiny day
Look all around, there’s nothin’ but blue skies
Look straight ahead, nothin’ but blue skies
The power of silliness . . . the power of growing old.
