THE THIRD ACT! READY?

 It’s happening! The day in which aging becomes a positive rather than a negative, applauded rather than feared. It’s here! Well, almost.

We’re living in an aging population where encountering a group of geriatric folks doesn’t mean you’ll hear, “Lock those old people in a closet, Lydia. They drool.”

Not anymore. Now we’re “cute” or “awesome.”

Of course, some cultures have always valued their elders but it’s new to us and it’s different. Our elders are giving new meaning to longevity. These amazing men and women are engaging in the Senior Olympics, the Iron Man marathon, they’re graduating from college on the Dean’s List. What’s the secret?

Does the progress in which we’re now aging speak of a new lifestyle?

What are they eating? Do I exercise enough? Is it true Marjorie Stoneman Douglas enjoyed a shot of whiskey every night before bed? Will doing the same lead me to longevity, a youthful appearance and a young-at- heart heart? Should I adopt the Blue Zones way of living? Or should I move to the Mediterranean? Is it all genetic? Do I need an aging coach?

So many questions.

As more men and women age beyond the life expectations of just a generation ago, there’s an avalanche of articles, books and essays being written and published on the subject of aging. We may not have had many role models ahead of us to show us the way but now we can discover the good, the bad, and the everything in-between as longevity increases.

I’m of the Silent Generation (1928-1945) and frankly, my role models are in short supply. (none) Frankly, I’m surprised to be here! Even to be writing this.

Dr. Louise Aronson’s 2021 book, Elderhood: Redefining Aging, Transforming Medicine, Reimaging Life has become my guide as I traverse the Third Act. This unexpected bonus of life. I’m also studying in a course entitled Neuroscience of the Aging Brain.

Hopefully, I’ll learn strategies required for establishing and maintaining well-being, resiliency and happiness at all the remaining stages and ages of life. But especially the Third Act.

Much like the third act of a play…the Third Act of our life is the resolution. This is the time and place in our lives where we look for the meaning of our lives, the legacy we wish to leave, and prepare to live a meaningful and yes, joyful existence in the upcoming decades.

Becoming a Superager may require a whole new way of thinking. According to the latest research, our brains are sharpest at eighteen years old. (I’m pretty sure mine was not. I still believed leading with your heart was better than leading with your head.) By the time we reach 80 years of age, our frontal lobe decline is at twenty-four percent. We have limits now that have to be taken into account in order to reach Third Act satisfaction. (You notice I didn’t say bliss. My frontal lobe is in decline but I still have enough wits about me.)

I have started making a list (lists are what I do.) What can I not do anymore? What can I do? Realistically, I’m basing my cannot-do’s on the loss of brain power and engine power (our body). What remains will be a substantial foundation on which to build a significant and intentional Third Act. I hope.

Awesome Superagers, the curtain is rising!

 

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

Just a short salute to Valentine's Day from an older (and proud-to-be) woman.

 Happy Valentine’s Day to all my friends who woke up this morning and said…”Wow! Another beautiful day! And I woke up on the right side of the grass.”             Or…

“Today I’ll spread my love of life around. I won’t worry, won’t even think about my body’s aches and pains. I’ll be grateful for another day of life that I can make of what I wish. I will sing in the shower, I’ll dance on the porch!”

 Sigh. Even if you've celebrated 80 or more Valentine's Days, don't be bored or discouraged. Each day offers new possibilities.

For decades Valentine’s Day has been the day for celebrating love and romance. We all want love in our lives no matter how old we are -18 or 88. New love at 75 years old feels no different than love at 35 years old. (I know this from experience. It’s giddy and grand.)

I’ve heard many an older widow say…”No romance for me. Not at my age. I’m not going to end up as anyone’s nurse.” 

But maybe that’s a shortsighted attitude. Just maybe, in the craziness of life, one day these same women might find themselves on the reverse, the other side of the caregiver role. They might be lucky enough to have some good, loving man taking care of them, reading to them, fixing dinner for them, driving them to a doctor's appointment. Just saying, it could happen.  

If there is no love interest in your life - throw a Galantine’s Day party, just as special and perhaps even more meaningful. If a party is too much, you can always buy your own chocolate and flowers like the Miley Cyrus song popular now. Another confession coming; I buy my own flowers on occasion. (Hot tip here: When you’re allergic to roses…buy lilies.)

But family love may be the best love of all. Love your family, love your friends, love your life, Valentine’s Day and every day. 

DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS?

 Does anyone know what time it is?  In the 70’s when rock music ruled, the group Boston created a hit with those lyrics and their distinct musical sound. I don’t worry about time so much anymore. My stomach warns me when it’s  breakfast, lunch and early bird dinner time. It’s the day-of-the-week that’s my problem.

What day is it?  Is it Tuesday? Wednesday? Saturday? I don’t know. I haven’t known what day it was since 2019.

This day-of-the-week confusion comes with retirement. I used to know - and sometimes dread - Monday because it was department head meeting day. Tuesday is when I met with account execs.  I could go on but won’t. It’s clear. The distinct difference is a lack of meetings. In retirement, one like-day rolls into another and feels just like the one before. It’s a sad situation.

Except when Monday is a holiday. You know it’s Monday and go to the bank only to find it’s closed. What?

Holidays are not as anticipated as when we were working for a payday. Holidays were great. An extra day off! A long weekend! The anticipation vanishes when we become retirees, however. And then, oftentimes, aargh… a holiday becomes an inconvenience. Even the ATM’s are empty.

The week following the Monday holiday becomes complicated. No one over the age of 68 starts his or her week on Tuesday. Wondering what day it is may be followed by a good cry. Confusion reigns.
         Even with a calendar in every room and on my phone, I rarely remember what day it is. Unless I make appointments. When we get involved, we also likely receive phone reminders on what day it is.

It’s physical therapy day! It’s Mahjong Monday, doctor Tuesday, Pilates Wednesday, lunch with the bowling team on Thursday and Friday a visit to the dentist. We’re on our own on the weekends.

You are not alone if you’re not sure what day it is.

Maybe Sunday?