Aging one more notch

"Despite my advanced age I feel much the same as I did 30 years ago. Of course, I didn't have to take a bunch of pills and visit medical specialists to feel that way then. Today I feel like an antique car that's being kept running by high-priced mechanics."

- Thomas Sowell on his 75th birthday

If this is the end of summer then I must be having another birthday, even if I have reached the stage where, if someone didn't remind me, I might skip the celebration altogether.

"Is this the year you add another zero?" asks my well-meaning, also-aging friend.

"Yes," I reply, "this time after a 7." Still, considering the alternative, and feeling rather good following recent surgery and a daily dose of four meds instead of Mr. Sowell's "bunch of pills," I'm not sure I felt any better on those other "zero years" than I do today.

My, oh my, if you're still in the youth or prime of life you are likely being deprived of a Katrina-sized deluge of Internet witticisms about what it's like to be a senior citizen or - let's just tell it like it is - old. Some of the quips are funny and bring a smile; others are blessings, reminding us of all we've been given during those added years and dulling our memories to the things we wish had never occurred. I've kept a few to share.

My older uncle sent new lyrics to the youthful song, "My Favorite Things:"

"Maalox and nose drops and needles for knitting,

Walkers and handrails and new dental fittings,

Bundles of magazines tied up in strings,

These are a few of my favorite things.

When the pipes leak, when the bones creak, when my knees go bad,

I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don't feel so bad.

Hot tea and crumpets and corn pads for bunions,

No spicy hot food or things cooked with onions,

Bathrobes and heat pads and hot meals they bring,

These are a few of my favorite things.

When the joints ache, when the hips break, when the eyes grow dim,

Then I remember the great life I've had, and then I don't feel so bad."

Or, how about this backward look from the gratefully aging, David Louis:

"Gee, those were the good old days: low taxes, tuberculosis, no social security, polio epidemics, do your laundry by hand, and an average life span of 50."

Another aged soul sent me the following description and disclaimer of senior citizenry:

"I'm the life of the party - even if it lasts until 8 p.m.

I'm good at opening childproof caps - with a hammer.

I'm smiling all the time - because I can't hear a thing you're saying.

I'm very good at telling stories - over and over.

I'm well cared for - Medicare, dental care, long-term care, and why should I care?

I'm a walking storeroom of facts - I've just lost the key to the storeroom door.

And I'm not really grouchy. I just don't like traffic, crowds, barking dogs, unruly kids, or commercials so loud I can hear them with my hearing aid turned off!"

But for those who, even after accruing a bunch of birthday zeroes, abstain from self-absorption, minimize their losses and look for ways to contribute to the gains of others, may the following aging description apply to you.

"May what you see in the mirror delight you, and what others see in you delight them. May someone love you enough to forgive your faults, be blind to your blemishes, and tell the world about your virtue" (Harry Bohrs).

(Barbara Seaborn is a local freelance writer. E-mail comments to seabara@aol.com)