I recently attended a wonderful lecture, where as an aside, the Rabbi mentioned how difficult it is when we realize we are aging and can no longer do everything for ourselves. Before he went on to add some truly encouraging and inspiring words, someone behind me mumbled under her breath, “Tell me about it.” This got me thinking.
We’ve all heard the saying “age is relative.” Anyone who’s ever been a kid or been related to a kid knows just how true this is. You see, children have a very limited vision of age. In their eyes, you’re either a kid (this includes babies) or you’re not (this includes bubbies). If you’re not a kid, then you have two options: You can either be married or you can be a morah (teacher). If you’re a morah, you live at school, and if you’re married, you live with your family. It is an uncomplicated web they weave – that is, until they see their morah at Seven Mile Market. A child’s reaction to seeing their morah falls into two categories: “fright or flight.” If the child is young, then, with a little prompting from their mothers, they shyly peek out from behind her skirt and whisper a barely audible hello. If the child is a little older, the conversation goes something like this: “Look,” they say to their mother, “there’s Morah Sarah.” Just as you turn your cart and glance over your shoulder, your daughter yells, “Run!” Children’s shock of seeing their morah outside of school has shattered their carefully constructed understanding of the world.
A child’s misunderstanding of age comes to light in many ways. Once, when my daughter was learning about presidents, she turned to me and asked if I was alive when George Washington was president. After a negative and slightly huffy response on my part, she then piped up, “Well, what about when Abraham Lincoln was president?” Needless to say, that history lesson ended quickly. On another occasion, my nephew, who was all of six years old, wanted to play Connect Four. It turns out that he is a whiz at the game, and he not only beat me but also beat his grandfather. As we complimented him on his wins, he proudly added, “I beat a second-grader at school.” I said, “That’s great, but you also beat me and grandpa.” To this he scoffed and said, “Yeah, but you’re old.”
Of course, there are times when children are easily impressed with the actions of adults. It’s how they express it that can sometimes put a damper on the experience. Many years ago, when my mother was visiting us, she had to take some medicine, which included putting in eye drops. One of my children, who was about three at the time, watched in awe as her grandmother expertly squeezed two drops into each eye. After she was done, my daughter looked up at her and said, “Oh, I know why you can do that without crying. It’s cause you’re not a child, you’re a dolt.”
One of the supposedly good parts of aging is that, as you begin to gain more confidence in yourself, you feel that you can dress yourself to your own taste, without the added influence of peer pressure. This developmental milestone, which often occurs around the age of 30, unfortunately coincides with your children having opinions about how you look. Mother’s often fall victim to their children’s insecurities as evidenced by the startled and horrified comments that come out of their mouths.
“You’re not really going to wear that, are you?” and “If you don’t wear your sheitel, then I’m not going.” This, of course, is coming from the kid, who wore a snood to school when she was three. The most vivid illustration of this phenomenon that I ever heard was related to an audience by a world-renowned rebbetzin. After getting ready to attend her daughter’s PTA night, she came downstairs and walked into the living room. Her daughter looked up at her and asked in surprise, “You’re not wearing that, are you?” (Déjà vu) Curious to see what would happen, she nodded her head yes. Her daughter got up, took her by the hand and led her back upstairs. Amused, the mother waited to see what her daughter would do. They walked over to the closet where her daughter proceeded to pick out a different dress and pair of shoes for her mother. She handed her mother her sheitel and walked out of the room. After changing her outfit, the mother came downstairs again. Her daughter looked her up and down with a sharp eye, nodded, and said, “Just don’t say anything while you are there.” Her daughter was five.
As people age, they do go through periods where they actually feel really great about themselves. Change of diet or exercise often adds some pep to the step of someone who has been feeling a little blue. Occasionally we need some professional assistance. I recently went to physical therapy for a minor repair. As soon as you sign in at the office, you’re handed a clipboard with a stack of papers to fill out. Understanding that the diagnosis drives the different routine of exercises that the therapist assigns makes the task a little more palatable. My simple understanding of the questionnaire was that it should target my specific complaint and be age appropriate. Most of the questions fell into that category: for example, “How long can you stand without feeling back pain?” as well as similar questions about walking and running. I was humming along at a steady pace when I was hit with the following: “How long can you hop?” Now, I don’t know about you, but the last time I hopped was when I was about six years old. The only explanation I could come up with was that either I looked a lot younger than I felt or some sadistic person was making up these questions. I left the question blank.
Age also has a way of rearing its ugly head when filling out online forms. Everything proceeds smoothly while you fill in your name and address, especially if you can still remember those. It’s not until you hit the box that requires you to enter your age that things go downhill. You see, filling in your name and address simply requires typing them in. The place to fill in age, on the other hand, gives you three separate drop-down menus. Month is not so bad: only 12 choices. Day of birth is also manageable, with 31 options. Year of birth is where they get you. If finding the year in which you were born makes you feel like you’re playing “Wheel of Fortune,” then you can bet your bottom dollar that a mid-life crisis is headed your way. It’s a wonder some of us don’t also sprain our finger with all the exertion.
Of course, nothing makes it all worthwhile like grandchildren, at least most of the time. My friend related to me what her granddaughter Grace recently said to her. As they were snuggled up together relaxing on the couch, her granddaughter reached up, stroked her cheek and said, “Bubby you’re beautiful. I want to look just like you when I’m 100” – thus giving new meaning to the phrase, “aging with grace.”
