The start of my 70s found me on a freeway, heading home from a somber week.
A relative, close to my age, fell from a tree over a week ago. He lies in an ICU, his backbone fused, ribs broken, struggling to breath through his own vomit. We saw a lot of improvement during our visit, but we know he faces a long, hard road.
That’s not all. A longtime friend was diagnosed with dementia. A second lies in nursing care waiting the end, having never recovered from his own fall. A third, who was a big fan of Steve Jobs, is fighting the same cancer that took his hero. Welcome to the 70s.
It’s something we have to get used to. Father Time is undefeated. I look in the mirror and know what’s coming for me, as it comes for all of us, young or old. It’s just when you hit three score and ten, the odds of it happening get short.
But this is not a “woe is me” story. When you lose friends, it’s God’s way of telling you to make new friends. Consider it a New Year’s Resolution.
New Hope
It’s said that modern medicine gives my generation an extra decade of active living over our parents. I hope that’s true. I want to think of myself as 60 again, and see my kids as being in their 20s.
Not that I feel old. There is some pain from an arthritic hip, and my lower back doesn’t like it when I get up. I have gotten into the habit of daily meditation, which can turn into a nap.
But I can ride 30 miles on my e-bike and feel energized by it. I can walk the neighborhood easily at 3 mph. I feel rested and energized when I wake, even if my first steps out of bed are halting. My sleep is good. I’m still writing and reporting, even if it’s on my schedule and only around my interests. I have no dietary restrictions.
I’ve also gained something approaching peace, without the panic attacks over death that kept me up in my 20s and 30s. When we’re young we tend to see death as an end, but when we’re older it becomes an open door. Paul Simon wrote about “how terribly strange it is to be 70” when he was in his 20s. He’s now 80 but still vital. Dylan is still touring. So are Willie Nelson and Bruce Springsteen.
I became a big fan of Leon Russell last year, sad because he passed away in 2016. I’m still open to new musicians, new authors, and new experiences. I’m still anxious to learn, and to tell others what I’ve learned.
It’s how I’ve always sought to serve the world, living in and reporting on one day at a time, until I no longer can.
Now for my children who are already in their 30s, a little Bonnie Raitt.
