Eighty, The New Eight

There's a lot of downgrading old age but the secret is that it's actually quite wonderful. You can say to your eight year old great grandchildren, should you be lucky enough to have them, move over kiddo, it's my turn. Sure, you begin to do some forgetting. Others are far more embarrassed than you are over it. The best thing is that you and everyone else in the world knows these things naturally happen. Even the Einsteins get old and forget. So why the guilt and surrounding snickering as though you're the only human in the world that is "losing it"? It is because human nature thinks it is immortal and will never age. Eighty year olds have that worked out.  The fact is, you are not losing anything. Aging is perfectly natural and ultimately eternally common. My tack is take heart and enjoy it. Like an eight year old, there are no holdbacks; you are what you are and you love it. No longer do you have to get up in the morning and go to work. Work, as one of my friends reminds me, was a waste of time. Not money. Time. Work takes up a lot of other things, too. It costs much to appear at "work". Work demands special attire, attitudes, expensive training and or equipment, and in many cases, a university education. The latter is a box to check on your resume. You go to all that time and money to get the degree, it's merely something to get you in the work world door. No, it doesn't make sense but, well, you know what I mean. Then again eight year olds, spend most of their time, having fun. If you are eighty plus or minus and you aren't having fun, it's your fault. Fun is free. You don't have to spend three days a week pounding it out on a tread mill or suffering on a skinny diet. Your life is without guilt or excuses.  Sit in the park and watch the crows or squirrels or seagulls or people as long as you wish. My mother and her husband spent many days a week driving to the park, parking in the right spot and while  having a car lunch inside cosily, people watched and when they tired of that, took a little nap. They were having fun. Like eight year olds, you don't need a bunch of the latest toys or adult supervised games. Give a little child a big empty cardboard box and you'll see fun happening. Give an eighty year old a big screen computer and they'll have a ball. The nonsense about them not using computers is a fallacy. Eighty year olds aren't trying to compete or shouldn't. They don't worry about wearing the latest styles or sporting the nuttiest running shoes or carrying the latest technotoys. They can sit and gab about the past with their cronies or tell family tales to the grandkids with endless joy. When my mother told and retold her yarns, we reminded her that we'd heard it a hundred times. She'd reply, I don't care, I like hearing my stories and if you don't like it, don't listen. Of course she also retorted with similar dignity, when reminded that she got a birthday wrong, when did they change it? The pressure to find a suitor is no more an issue either. Elders who live alone, find it quite enjoyable. They have only themselves to take care of. They rise when they want to and retire the same way. They eat what they wish, when they wish. They watch and listen to what they wish and if they choose to turn night into day, who is to judge? They are as free as eight year olds. When you see eighties anywhere, forget pity and cooing at them. They are having the time of their lives being eight again.