I am watching my parents age gracefully. While they advance within the range of their “golden years” (late 70s and early 80s, respectively) I’ve begun to notice their siblings and peers dying off.
Right now the deaths are merely a trickle of end-of-life-cycle events. Before long, the rainfall of natural (or health-related) fatalities will reach a torrential volume.
Think of the late, great Mickey Rooney who survived into his early 90s, having been left behind by such costars like Spencer Tracy, James Cagney, Judy Garland, Elizabeth Taylor and Lana Turner — just to name a handful. What kind of life is to be had watching your peers dying off around you?
So, the question remains: how does one survive the passage into old age with one’s friends still counted among the living?
It’s a question I learned the answer to, quite passively, without a word of instruction or advice.
About 27 years ago I relocated to San Francisco, following a young lady I had been dating at the time. I found a room for rent in a flat near the corner of 9th Avenue and Judah Street — what is known as the Inner Sunset.
The flat sat atop a Korean barbecue restaurant which sent up tangy, mouth-watering aromas of far-East grilled meats. Around roughly the same time of my arrival another renter moved into the room next to mine.
The leaseholders (a wacky young couple who would never forgive God for not having lived during the Roaring ’20s) introduced me to David in passing: a shy but friendly middle-aged man attired in a sport jacket, jeans and Chuck Taylors.
As days and weeks wore on, our paths would cross and we’d converse easily enough to discover our mutual interest in books, philosophy and film arts.
Eventually, David and I would meet for a beer and further the conversation about ideas and culture. It was an easy kinship, little did it matter that David was 20 years my senior. Soon a year lapsed and we both went our separate ways, moving away to different domiciles; but we kept in touch and periodically would meet for a coffee or drink and resume our ever-engaging conversation.
It would have never occurred to me to entertain the thought, oh, God — he’s so much older than I am. How is it possible we can carry on a conversation? Another of the many examples about age being a state of mind.
Recently, David has entered his 70s while I’ve reached my 50s. We still talk occasionally and the conversation is as lively as ever as we share a book or artist lately discovered that either of us is enthusiastic to share with the other.
In our last conversation I told David that he taught me how to survive growing older with some grace and dignity. It was by maintaining friendships with people 20 or 30 years younger, an age range that allows one to reduce the risk of a friend dying on you. Granted, it was never David’s intention, but this is how matters turned out.
And that is the secret to growing old gracefully and still having friends around until your end arrives. If you happen to be in your 40s or 50s, right now the time is ripe to develop friendships with people in their late 20s or 30s.
You have the wisdom and experience of at least 20 years to offer, as well as a mentor’s personal perspective not available anywhere else.
Depending on whether or not you choose wisely, what you get in return is the respect and admiration of as many companions your social calendar can manage.
Old age doesn’t have to be a time marred by the quicksands of mortality engulfing one’s peers. Developing quality friendships with a younger generation is a sensible and life-affirming way of surviving — even thriving within — the final miles of one’s journey.
—
Previously Published on Medium
iStock image
