A School for Ageing

If, as we age, we expect to keep doing everything we’ve always done, we may be in for a rude awakening.

Some notable elders manage to stay independent and even work in the way they always have, but even they can’t be, do, and have everything they’ve been, done, and had in decades past.

Let’s take friendship. During our 60s, we start losing friends to disability and death. I tried to describe that experience in an earlier Substack post titled Holes in the Tapestry, in which I spoke to the irreplaceable nature of the friends and loved ones I’ve lost. The point being that we can’t expect to link arms with all those we used to count on at an earlier stage and march together through this experience we call ageing.

And how about physical activity? A few of my peers still play tennis, but I consider them exceptional. More often than not, people I know have sustained injuries at the gym and even during a physical therapy appointment. Let’s face it: Our bones, muscles, tendons, and nerves ain’t what they used to be. Nor are our brains, hearts, and immune systems.

Some of us, including me, continue to work well past an age when most people retire. Academics, doctors, politicians, and writers are among those who tend to keep on keeping on.

A good friend of mine retired in her late 60s, but her former boss—a 90-something oncologist—will never retire. Remember Robert Gottlieb, the eminent book editor who appeared with Robert Caro in the documentary Turn Every Page? He died at 92, roughly a year after the film was released, and he kept working as Caro’s editor all the way through. And then there’s Richard Falk, the 94-year-old retired academic who has continued to wield influence via his blog, Global Justice in the 21^st Century, speaking up for the rights of Palestinians and other victims of war, poverty, and oppression the world over.

While these amazing nonagenarians are inspiring, they don’t exemplify the harsh realities most of us face.

The majority of older adults don’t continue to work past 70, nor do they want to. That goes for teachers, nurses, firefighters, laborers, small business owners, service workers, and even corporate executives. In other words, most of us.

And how many of us are still up for romance? Some die-hards may choose to date, and a few may even find their soulmate in their 70s, 80s, and beyond. As for me, I’m still working—but I’m retired from love. Imagine me on a cabaret stage à la Marlene Dietrich, singing, “I’m tired of love…I’m retired from love.”

But deciding to retire from love is actually one of the upsides of ageing: Free from the pressure to pair up, reproduce, and find a date for New Year’s Eve, it’s all optional.

Decisions, decisions

So here’s my idea: a school for ageing. Given the highly individual experience of ageing and the diverse choices we’re called upon to make on our own behalf, how about an actual classroom in which to acquire new skills and knowledge, share our stories, offer mutual support, and explore various scenarios? The curriculum could cover all the issues I mentioned above—friendship, work, health, and romance—and others, from the particulars of diet and exercise to the optimal balance between risk-taking and comfort.

We could invite guest lecturers on all manner of topics. We could build community. We could benefit from the perspectives of our classmates as we navigate our options. We could share health information and dating advice, if desired. And we could help to counter the loneliness epidemic, which is driven by the isolation many of us fall prey to, according to Dr. Vivek Murthy, the Surgeon General of the United States.

When to hold on, when to let go

Obviously, we can’t hold onto everything we used to do, and we can’t be the way we were in days gone by: youthful, vibrant, ailment-free, and without consequences if we endure high levels of stress or indulge in substance use. What we can do, be, and have is what the social scientists call overdetermined—an academic term meaning that many factors determine our ability to function, grow, learn, and live our lives.

I’ve decided to pick my battles. Some fights are necessary: working to make ends meet, staying on top of household tasks, taking care of personal hygiene, and staying in touch with friends and loved ones. But there are times when letting go seems to be the best option. Letting go of relationships that aren’t working. Admitting it when we need rest, time out, or a vacation. In other words, I intend to push myself when it’s warranted and lay back when these old bones, muscles, nerves, and brain cells tell me to knock it off, already.