Aging, From the Inside

Notes from the Prairie: I Wonder column #29

Carol’s grandmothers at her 1975 Wedding

Making small talk, a retired friend said yesterday that she and her husband had just returned from a grandson’s wedding, the first of their grandchildren to marry.

My husband and I are at least seven years from that stage of grandparenting. Wondering how she would answer, I asked, “How did it feel?”

She shook her head. “Very strange!”

I chuckled. “When I married, my grandfathers had passed, but both of my grandmothers attended. I thought they were so old.”

She nodded and smiled.

“I have news for you,” I quipped. “Back then when we thought our grandparents were old, we were wrong!”

We laughed.

At 10, however, I thought 20-year-olds were ancient and I was the perfect age.

When I turned 20, I laughed at my 10-year-old self.*

Then at 30, I laughed at the immaturity of those a decade younger and considered 40-somethings old. My perceptions continue to change. Truly old people are always 5-10 years older than I am. I continue to enjoy my current age.

But looking at me from the outside, perhaps others can’t see my pleasures. I wonder what they would think of a scene from the past weekend. Marlo and I enjoyed supper on the patio with Bill and Betty, whom we’ve known for half a century. Typical of people in their 70s, we cope with some chronic conditions of aging.

It was the first outdoor meal for all of us. We hadn’t visited with Bill and Betty over dinner in two years. As we ate, we admired the surrounding gardens. Marlo explained how his tiny garden produces substantial vegetable crops. We admired one neighbor’s tulips and another’s cannas.

I rejoiced I could enjoy those flowers without caring for them and remarked the neighbor’s cannas had been lush and gorgeous the previous year. This spring our neighbor lamented the cost of buying new cannas. He did not realize canna bulbs could survive winter indoors and be replanted. I volunteered to teach him the wintering process during the coming fall.

Betty mentioned a novice gardener in their acquaintance who didn’t realize last year’s tomatoes would not green up this spring. Bill provided some starter plants and advice. Marlo and Bill discussed woodworking and remodeling projects.

Moving indoors, we taught our friends Crokinole, a game new to them, but similar to Carrom which they had played before. We laughed about muffed shots and cheered amazing ones. The score ran neck and neck until finally Betty and I won.

But winning was not our primary purpose; the fun of the unfolding game was. Across the decades we have come to treasure processes more than goals. At 16 and 26, this change would have been unthinkable.

After one Crokinole game, we were a bit tired. Bill and Betty left. It was such a pleasant evening, from the inside.

At 30, seeing the evening from the outside, I would have been sad. Two old couples, each with a chronic disease, eating takeout pizza and salad, with the energy for only a 45-minute board game and worn out by 9 p.m. Poor dears!

I didn’t need pity. I had enjoyed a pleasant evening with friends.

I have now reached the age of my grandmothers on my wedding day. I wonder if at that stage—on the inside—they enjoyed the same pleasures I now do. I also wonder if they thought me very young.

I think they would answer yes.

*My thanks to Lars Tornstam for this concept from his book “Gerotranscendence.”

Carol Van Klompenburg is a writer and speaker living in Pella, Iowa. Her email address is carolvk13@gmail.com. Information about her can be found at www.carolvanklompenburg.com. She is beginning research for a second book about aging.