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| Illustration by Ken Del
Rossi |
Scene: BostoN Restaurant.
The menus arrive and my dinner companions briskly snap
them open and begin throwing commentary about the selections.
I move the menu closer to my face. “Geez, I can
hardly see this.” I angle the menu this way and
that, trying to harvest a bit of light.
Minutes pass. “I have never seen a menu with
smaller type than this,” I complain, and pick
up the table candle, hoping its meager flame might deliver
some clarity.
The waiter arrives. The others order. I am still trying
to make out the specials.
Finally, defeated, I look across the table at my 40-something
friend. “May I borrow your glasses?”
And the next week I went and bought some.
I had been in denial about my vision for months, pushing
away what I knew was incontrovertible evidence that
middle age was upon me. It took a while, but practicality
finally overcame vanity. I mean, I could no longer decipher
box scores. What kind of a life is that?
Older folks are probably reading this and thinking
to themselves: just wait. You ain’t seen nothin’—so
to speak.
My first concession to age (I’m 45) was insignificant
compared to those I know will come later. But I have
had a glimpse into how an aging body can redefine one’s
reality, and the compromises one learns to live with.
In our cover story, beginning on page 48, we focus
on what aging means to individuals and to a culture
that prizes youth. It’s a crucial issue as Baby
Boomers begin to reach retirement age and the percentage
of older Americans rises sharply. By the time my contemporaries
and I reach age 65, Social Security will be running
on fumes, and the costs associated with keeping us healthy
for the next however many years will be extraordinary.
Many of the scenarios are bleak and distressing. However,
psychology professor Laura Carstensen poses a provocative
question, with an upside: might an aging society actually
be a good thing?
There’s no doubt the aging of the American populace
will affect the character of the country. Retirees already
are a powerful political force—what kind of imprint
will tens of millions of octogenarian Baby Boomers leave
on Congress, culture, the courts? Before we get there,
says Carstensen, we need to redefine our notions of
age and aging.
If you could live to be 100, would you want to? Your
answer probably is: it depends. It depends on your health,
where you live and with whom, and how much freedom you
have. In short—will you have a life, or simply
be alive?
I don’t expect to live to be 100, but if I do,
the year will be 2059 and there will be almost 1 million
centenarians, according to demographers’ estimates.
(Today there are about 50,000.) Imagine it—there
will be people running the country who aren’t
even born yet. Some of them won’t even need glasses
to read a menu. What will they think of us? And what
will we think of them?
Perhaps they will have a special club for us and the
1 millionth member gets a free pass to a Rolling Stones
concert.
After all, Mick Jagger will only be 116. |
