This business about going through the aging process is a new adventure. It is a pity that no practice run is available. After all, I can learn how to do many things well when I have some explicit instructions and sufficient practice time. Turns out aging is not like that. Life can change in a nanosecond. One day you’re doing well and the next everything is suddenly catawampus. Those things were happening to “other people,” not to me. I had always been health-and-wellness preventive.
As brain imaging research evolved, I knew there were more things I could do. Aging inevitably was involving me personally. Therefore, I had some decisions to make. How would I approach this process? As a death sentence or as a new adventure? I could become sad and depressed and stop looking at my pictures, or I could embrace the process and strategize on how to handle the changes as gracefully as possible. Humor came to my rescue. I could look at the funny side of the adventure.
Did you know that as you “age,” there are two things many people want to know about you? Sure, you do. Age and weight. Most are too polite and Emotionally Intelligent to ask. Others? Not so much. Some are missing even a crumb of social decorum. I tell them that age is simply a number. “If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.” Some follow me around, demanding to know the reason I refuse to disclose the number. Those I tell, “It’s really none of your business.” If they push me into a corner, metaphorically or literally—oh yes, they did!—demanding an answer I reply, “I already told you that age is simply a number and mine is unlisted.” If they protest that they just want to know if I am younger or older than they are, I reply, “Take your pick. Do you think knowing that will make you younger or older?” Some even have followed me out to my car. I told the last group, “I’m aiming to live to be a super-centenarian. I’ll let you know when that happens.” Immediately one said, “Maybe we won’t live that long, however long that is.” I said, “In that case I guess you will never know.” That response was not well received.
The weight question is interesting. For some I am too thin, for others bordering on plump. (I’ve learned that some clothing styles can make me look borderline obese. Horizontal dark and light stripes, for example.). One person had the nerve to ask my weight in stone. Stone? I said that since I was not made of stone and since I had never weighed myself in stone, I could not answer that question. “You must have flunked trigonometry,” the person said. Out of hearing distance, I laughed out loud. Actually, I flunked trigonometry—I must have missed the part about weight in stone. My mother had signed me up for a trigonometry course by snail mail—in the late 1800s no one had ever heard of the internet. My final grade was 16 percent. I thought my mother would die of apoplexy, seeing (she told me repeatedly) as she had received 100 percent on her final trig exam in high school. “How could I have a daughter who flunked trig?” she moaned aloud. Perhaps because I had no teacher or coach? Oh, well. Much later, I graduated with a master’s in epidemiology and health education. Thankfully, there was nothing in the curriculum about figuring out a person’s weight “in stone.” Fortunately, trigonometry was not a required course—all I needed was to pass statistics. No problem.
Life goes by at lightning speed, you know, especially if you have kids and are trying to raise them to be pillars of the community and not Ted Bundy copycats. There probably were some signs of advancing age, but at the time I failed to understand the connection. If my hairbrush seemed to have more than the usual amount of hair in it, I just figured that one of the grandkids had brushed the dog. I did not connect the hairbrush with what used be on my head.
Speaking of hair, I remember the first time I tried to brush a hair off my grandma’s shoulder—only to discover that it was still attached to her chin. That was ugly. Even with thick glasses, she had not noticed that thread-like strand until it objected to being separated from its root. After that, I began to notice random hair growth in several personal locations—sprouting from my nose, peaking from an ear, dangling from other body parts. My doctor just said to roll with it, as they likely would disappear as soon as my estrogen level fell. “Of course,” she added, “other problems will probably crop up as estrogen falls.” Goody, goody.
Then there is the “timer” issue. Initially, I thought there was no need to spend money on a timer. That was an error in judgement. After putting cookies in the oven to bake and promptly forgetting all about them, I made a quick trip to the store—okay, the timer probably wouldn’t have helped in that instance. I returned to see smoke drifting lazily from the oven and solid lumps of charcoal inside. My dear husband said that was a total waste of “valuable” resources. Our youngest son took some lumps and a hammer to school. Word was that he entertained the kindergarten kids by hitting each lump with a hammer and instantly creating a cloud of black dust.
I never had much interest in dermatology. Now? I’m learning a bunch of new words. Pedunculated acrochordon, for one. You know, those soft, skin-colored bits of epidermis that hang from the surface of the skin on a thin piece of tissue called a stalk or peduncle. They resemble micro-miniature tags on clothing merchandise. Last week my dermatologist said I had grown some pedunculated acrochordons. Benign, all. That was a minor comfort. Seems they hang around in places where they definitely do not belong. A TV commercial said you could treat them yourself. I’d give it a go except I cannot reach them all, so I am relegated to stripping down in the doctor’s office and bending around in fairly obscene postures.
Next visit, my epidemiologist said she had found some senile keratosis, also benign. I protested I was definitely not senile. “Well, it’s just a name,” she said. “Up through young adulthood, they are uncommon. Did you know that almost 83 million people living in the United States have skin keratosis or the ‘barnacles of aging’?” Barnacles of aging, my foot. There needs to be a less offensive name available. Really!
I was unprepared for wrinkles. Believe me, crepe has never been my favorite, on or off. I took the grandchildren out on Halloween and several other kids we met along the way looked up at me and said, “Good costume. You look like one of the Munsters on TV.” I was not wearing a costume.
The doctor suggested I sign up at a gym. The exercise coach was working with two other senior citizens. He suggested I look around and try things out. While waiting my turn, I did just that. I do not know how I got tangled up in wires and pulleys on one of their new-fangled machines. The exercise coach finally had to call for help to extricate me. The two of them said I should get a prize for doing something no one else in the history of their gym had ever been able to achieve. I canceled my new membership. Honestly, I thought an exercise coach was supposed to give you some cautionary tips before letting you have at it on our own. I got a couple of simple exercise machines and several rubber bands that do not attach to anything. Cost me much less than my gym membership.
I went to my granddaughter’s school fundraiser. Unfortunately (no glasses being handy), I put my “Green Card” in the collection envelope mistaking it for a crisp, newly folded $5 bill. Several days later, my “Green Card” showed up in the mail with a note showing that a serious donation could help compensate for the time and trouble it had taken the treasurer to track me down—which likely prevented me from being returned to my “mother country.” Good grief! Detectives from Sherlock Holmes to Perry Mason and beyond would have called that blackmail or extortion—whichever one properly applied to this situation. It saved me filing for a replacement “Green Card,” however, so I sent them another crisp, newly folded $5 bill. I also began the naturalization process.
The time may come when I have to stop parking in enormous parking lots. You know, the ones where you walk the length of several city blocks just to reach the front door. My friend told me to take a picture of my car. With the best of intentions, I started to do that before I headed for the store. Unfortunately, I soon discovered that a photo of the license plate does not tell me a great deal about where that license plate is actually located in the vast expanse of painted metal. I once spent four hours—four hours—in a humongous airport parking lot, driving around with security and looking for my car—only to finally realize that the attendant and I were looking for the wrong vehicle. We should have been looking for the car I had purchased two days prior to my taking a flight overseas. I mean, really; I had been gone for an entire month. The upside was that when we finally located my new car, the attendant dead-panned, “I rarely discuss work with my wife. This time, I may make an exception. I think she will get a kick out of this.” He never once chuckled or cracked a grin. I laughed all the way home.
If you forget your glasses, forget the car wash. I started into the wrong end of the carwash and the man was just as surprised as I was. He hopped out of his car and began yelling at me to back up. “BACK UP!” I did. I also saw him hit with a blast of water and slapped with that vertical roll of carpet-scrap thingy designed to wash the side of his car. I will admit, seeing that it cleaned his suit and tie as well, was almost worth the mistake. It certainly cut off his yelling. It seemed prudent, however, not to drive around to the regular entrance. I’d come back later with my glasses on. Can’t you just imagine the story he told around the office? “You will not believe this! Some old biddy…”
I learned it is important to have both your glasses and the overhead light on when selecting what to wear. Black with navy isn’t dreadful. If you’re talking about shoes, however, one being flat and one having heels, that negatively affects one’s balance. It is important to stay upright! Did you know that if perchance you fell and seriously hit your head, even if that mishap occurred half a century ago, it may only be a matter of time until you do not know the difference between a cauliflower and a computer? Scary thought that. It has put me right off cauliflower.
The timer just went off. Now I have to remember why I set it…. It’ll come. Perhaps a second or two more slowly, but it will come as I tell my brain to remind me. Aging is a new adventure. In my book of life, the process keeps me laughing and definitely beats the alternative!
P.S. I’ve learned that if you can laugh at yourself, you carry with you an endless supply of amusement. Yay! For humor!
In life you always give up something to get something.
—Old Proverb
Initially I wasn’t at all certain I truly understood this old proverb, much less agreed. Over time, however, as this axiom percolated through my brain, it gradually became a favorite life precept. I came to perceive that the reverse is also true. You always get something when you give something up.
So when it was my turn to facilitate a seminar breakout, I threw those words out to the group as a conversation starter. After some general discussion, the participants really became involved in the concept. They quickly turned the session into a creative exercise, spontaneously sharing anecdotes related to getting and giving up. Here are several examples.
Several years after learning more about brain function and energy, Nick had been able to change careers. “Almost immediately I noticed an increase in my energy levels,” he said. “But I also began to notice that some of the tasks I had previously done well (but not easily) were becoming increasingly distasteful.” He hadn’t lost his skills, but as he moved closer to the person he was innately, his brain drew his attention to the high energy costs of tasks that were a poor match with his innate giftedness—usually by pushing him to procrastinate. “As I become more aware of this,” he continued, “I also seem to have developed a different perspective about what tasks are really important, those that I could hire or trade out, and those that didn’t have to be done at all.” The lines of his face crinkled into a broad smile, “I wonder who coined that old proverb? He knew what he was talking about!”
“And what makes you think the author was a he?” Allie demanded. But there was a twinkle in her eye and warmth in her voice. After 29 years of marriage she had been left a widow when her husband died in a car accident. “I gave up some of who I am in the compromise required in every long-term relationship,” she said simply. As it happened, two of those compromises involved leaving her hair long and wearing it in a French twist to please her husband, and turning her little art studio into a home library because of his allergies to oils and solvents. Reaching up with paint-stained fingers to touch her silver-streaked bob, and smiling a trifle self-consciously, she said, “I miss him and I am also enjoying some of these aspects of my real self.” In Allie’s case the proverb could read, In life you always get something when you have to give up something.
“I had no choice about what I had to give up.” Tony shook his head slowly and went on speaking. “Furthermore, I certainly wasn’t looking for what I got!” When he was age 10, Tony’s younger brother had drowned in a freak swimming accident. The trauma of this death had reverberated up and down his generational line. “I remember wishing that I could just die too,” Tony reminisced. I thought, at least that way I wouldn’t have to watch my parents grieve. There seemed to be nothing he could do to lessen their agony. Living through that experience gave Tony insights into the desperate pain of loss. That knowledge became a valuable asset in helping him relate to parents and children in the oncology unit where he is a physician. Tony concluded with these words, “I didn’t choose that experience.” There was a pause and a wry smile. “And I gained a personal empathy that has been invaluable in dealing with my patients.”
“I chose what I gave up.” That opening line had everyone turning to look at the young woman who had spoken. Beth had fallen head-over-heels (her words) in love with her real estate partner. “At first I didn’t realize he was married,” she continued in a soft voice, “and by the time he disclosed that, it was too late.” Beth described how she had carefully evaluated the pros and cons of the situation. “I hadn’t heard this old proverb but I knew that one can never have everything in life.” In the end she chose to break off the relationship. “What did I give up?” Beth asked. “A man I loved desperately. I also avoided a lifetime of feeling some level of guilt had I contributed to the break-up of a home that contained two sets of identical twins.” Beth smiled. “And what did I get in return? For one thing, the knowledge that Granny was right. Human beings may not always choose whom they fall in love with, but they do choose their response to the situation.” Beth had made her decision, taken a job in another state, and eventually met the man of her dreams (her words). As a matter of fact, they had just celebrated their 18th wedding anniversary!
There were more stories and then time was up. In conclusion, one of the participants asked if he could share a favorite quote by Ralph Marston because, as he put it, the words were an explanation and an expansion of the old proverb.
“…There is no point in fighting against what already is. When you accept the situation, that is the starting point at which you begin to make the most of it. When you can go beyond acceptance into sincere gratitude, you take on a powerful positive momentum. In short, accept what is, then find something positive about it. Even the most desperate situation has its positive aspects and possibilities. You’ll uncover them only after you’ve accepted that the situation exists. Acceptance is not surrender. It is the recognition of reality. By clearly seeing what is, by acknowledging and even being grateful, you can move things forward….”
In life you always give up something to get something.
If the concept embodied in these words hasn’t been high on your list of principles to live by, you may want to take another look. Once you genuinely understand, accept, and apply this concept consistently, you become empowered to perceive each situation in life, each choice you make, and each action you take in a new way. It enables you to internalize that there is always good news and bad news (or a least some aspects that are more positive than others). It can help you to reframe those situations in which the positive aspects are difficult to identify. It can give you a tool by which to analyze and evaluate your options, choices, decisions, and actions. It can help you find what you get when you have to give something up, even though you may have to look carefully to identify it.
I’ve begun to perceive this as part of the maturing process. It involves the skill of evaluating what you will have to give up in order to get something and then making a decision based on the cost and whether or not you are willing to pay the price.
Do you need to spend some time identifying what you have gotten when you had to give something up?
Restless with the flight delay, the teenager absently tossed the silver dollar into the air and caught it. I watched as the action was repeated over and over. A split-second distraction and the coin rolled merrily across the floor, its owner in hot pursuit. Victory! But not before several passengers had been jostled, a toddler startled into tears, and a security guard alerted by the confusion.
Returning to the gate area, the teenager was greeted by a parent whose words flew faster than a frog’s tongue: “I told you to be careful with that coin! Why did you do that? What’s wrong with you? Don’t just stand there! Answer me!” Silence. The parent stood with muscles tight, face red, blood pressure building, ready to lose it any second; the teenager with head bowed, shoulders shrugged, and despair etched in every slumped muscle. Talk about a generation gap. Light years apart would be more like it.
Part of me wanted to explain to them that although the child was nearly as tall as the parent the teenager’s brain was still a work in progress, and that this parental style of communication would likely generate more problems that it would solve. But it wasn’t my place and, most likely, my comments wouldn’t have been well received.
Biting my tongue I strolled down the concourse thinking about a discussion I’d had with Dr. Eugene Brewer, Educational Superintendent in Florida. Many people believe that physical maturity equals brain maturity. Nothing could be further from the truth, especially during the first 2-3 decades of life. Just because a teenager’s body appears somewhat adult like, it’s an error in judgment to assume that the same holds true for the brain. Not only that, the brain may not be completely myelinated (the process whereby the nerve pathways are coated with a cholesterol insulation) until somewhere around age twenty or twenty-one, while the prefrontal regions may not be completely developed until mid-twenties or later. A misunderstanding of this mismatch can be a recipe for communication disasters, my definition of generation gap!
Would you believe it? As I reached the end of the concourse a similar situation presented itself. Just different players and a different object. When it got loose the squeegee managed to bounce off at least three passengers, barely missed the reading glasses of a fourth, and finally came to a stop against the traveling cage of a little pup that promptly erupted into frantic yipping. Just what everyone needed in a crowded airport!
With bated breath I waited to see how this parent would respond. No eruption. No pejoratives. Just a few words uttered in a relatively calm voice: “Put the squeegee in your back pack, apologize to the passengers, and then let’s talk about this.” The travelers appeared genuinely surprised by the apology and rushed to offer comments such as, That’s okay, Oh, no harm done, Not to worry, I know it’s tough to hang around the airport.
Curious to hear the remainder of the conversation, I ducked behind an adjacent pillar. “I realize you didn’t mean for the ball to get loose and I know it’s a pain waiting for our delayed flight, especially for someone as active as you are. Nevertheless, [I love that word!] you need to think ahead about the possible consequences of your actions such as a potential for hitting others, breaking reading glasses, upsetting cups of coffee, and so on.”
The teenager nodded and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think ahead.” His face held a wan half-smile.
Touching the child’s shoulder gently, the parent replied, “You’ll be more likely to next time. Hmmm. Now, what can you do to pass the time that will have a lower risk for negative consequences?”
How I wanted to shout, Bravo, great role modeling for the next generation! (My Ambiverted brain and a sense of public decorum restrained me.) The parent had identified the problem, gave instructions about behaviors required in consequence of the initial action, explained the need to think ahead about possible negative outcomes, and offered help to come up with a better choice under the present circumstances. All without yelling, demeaning, or shaming. No generation gap here, I thought, at least not in this situation. I’d spoken a trifle too soon as a strident, brittle voice caught my attention.
“So what good do you think that’ll do?” I peaked around the pillar. An elderly woman was addressing the boy’s parent. “You didn’t even make him tell you why he did it?” She shook her head, the muscles of her face wrinkled in a disapproving mask. Oh, oh, I thought to myself. Here it comes. And come it did with a vengeance. For the next few seconds all manner of suggestions poured forth of how she thought the child/parent interaction should have been handled.
I looked at the parent who a moment earlier had appeared calm and confident. Now the body language bespoke discouragement, weariness, and irritation. “We’ve had this discussion before.” The words were softly spoken but carried an underlying tension. “At best, why questions are difficult for adults to answer and almost impossible for teenagers. Why questions just get in the way of communication.” If looks could kill the elderly woman’s eyes might have accomplished the task effortlessly. Before she could reply, the parent continued, “Case in point, if I asked you why you are so upset with the way I just handled things, how would you answer?”
Her response, when it came, was nonverbal. Shoving her nose in the air, she sniffed, turned abruptly on her heel, and headed for the nearest beverage kiosk. There it was. Loud and clear and ugly. Generation gap! Just a different combinations of generations.
Leaving the safety of the pillar, I headed back down the concourse. This time I really had to bite my tongue to keep from saying to the parent, “I truly admire the communication style you exhibited with your son. You avoided why questions!” I’d also been pleased to note that the parent seemed to be quite well informed. Studies have shown that when confronted with a question, especially when in the midst of an emotionally charged situation, individuals tended to access differing portions of the brain based on their ages. Those above age twenty-one tended to access the thinking brain (cerebrum) where functions related to conscious and logical/rational thought processing are housed. Those under the age of twenty-one tended to access portions of the brain sometimes referred to as the emotional brain (e.g., limbic lobe, pain-pleasure center) where there is no conscious thought—but plenty of emotion!
Therefore, when individuals below the age of twenty-one are asked a question such as, “Why did you do that?” they may want to respond and may even try to do so, but their brains may downshift. As a result, they will likely be trying to formulate an answer from the emotional brain and may become defensive or even unable to articulate effectively. This negative outcome can be further compounded if the child or adolescent perceives the situation to be adversarial or stressful. If the adult (so-called) is processing from the thinking brain while the adolescent is processing from the emotional brain, it’s no wonder there can be a disconcerting disconnect.
Many adults agonize over why questions about their own behaviors. How much more those under twenty-one whose brains are “still in the oven,” so to speak! How easy it is to shame others, especially young people, for things that we ourselves find difficult to accomplish.
Back at my gate it was time to board. Soon we were five miles above the earth and I had sufficient food for thought for the entire trip. Fortunately, we can narrow the generation gap.
As the old proverb puts it, a word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.
