Coming to Terms with Being an Old Man

It happened when I was shopping a few years ago. The twenty something female clerk asked if I wanted my “senior citizens discount?” Startled and after a momentary loss for words, making sure she was indeed talking to me, I said, “Well, sure,” I stammered, “Yes, my discount please.”On the drive all the way home I heard her words, senior citizen. It struck me as it was the first time I had been called a senior citizen. I hurried into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. My reflection was what the clerk saw. We had each seen something different. When I looked at her, I saw a young working mother with too much makeup and a couple of kids to support.But she saw an old man!I looked at my reflection closer. Should I shave? Nah, it can go another day. Hair down a little too much over my ears? Yeah I'll get it cut pay day. Then I noticed the grey. Somehow, overnight and without my knowing my hair had turned grey. And so was most of my beard stubble. My God! How had I not noticed this old man looking back at me and how long had this been going on?Seeking some perspective I looked back at some old photos in my desk drawer. In the 70's when I was a police detective for Portland, my hair was properly trimmed and it was black. I looked pretty good for a man in his late '30's. No wrinkles but mature. Clean shaven, good looking. For awhile during that time, I had tried a mustache, but it was too much trouble and I shaved it off. I thought I looked better, without the mustache, and younger!Ten years later in the 80's when I left the police and became the Director of Security for the Benson Hotel I was the epitome of proper Conservative dress. Black or dark blue three piece suits. Hair trimmed neatly but the mustache returned. I thought it made my look more mature. But I remember darkening the mustache with an cosmetic eyebrow pencil. Was that when the grey begin its encroachment?We go through life waiting for the next milestone to happen. There are many in our lives that mark something significant. I stood in line at the Department of Motor Vehicles when I was 16 proudly receiving my drivers license. I longed to be 21 of course, which was the official coming of age for any young man. Then I would be able to drink and vote. As it worked out I turned 21 in Germany because I was in the US Navy and in Germany you could drink at age 18, so turning 21 was a ho-hum, kind of a let down for me. By age 40 we are expected to be well-established in the business or professional world. I was a police detective when I was in my forties. So far so good. People in their 50's are considered middle aged, but I don't remember much about my 50's except I had become a father of a wonderful son and spent many happy years raising him. My biological clock went off fulfilling my need to be a father. (Yes, men have a biological clock.)I never thought about being in my sixties except to wonder if I'd still be alive to watch my little son become a man. Social Security? I guessed I'd have to file for it some day. It was still very far off in my mind. Now, I find myself in my 80's. Eighty is officially old. There is no way around it. Eighty is old. Period. Old. And the culprit in all this confusion regarding my identity and getting old is simply, my mind. My mind doesn't realize my body is old. In my mind I can still run fast, choke out an assailant, carry an overstuffed chair up a flight of stairs, and have sex all night.

I have arrived at a period in my life I was never able to plan for. How was I supposed to plan for being 80, when I could never conceive of it? I am left with an understanding and a physical perception of my fragility. I am more careful standing up, making sure my feet are securely under me before I take a step. I always hold on the handrails and I never dash across the street when the walk sign flashes wait! I have two pair of glasses, one for computer work and reading, the other for distance when I drive. (I still drive very well). I have lost a lot of my hearing and wear hearing aids, in other words, I have appliances so I can see and hear, and this helps me function and function well.

But getting old is not all a losing proposition. I have a great deal of life experience and from that comes a lot of wisdom. I can spot a fool a mile away and don't even try and lie to me. As to my other frailties, I have a willing and understanding wife, (my fourth wife as she likes to refer to herself,) a successful career, a college degree, (I graduated as the oldest PSU student in 2017) and I am the author of two books.

What is left to me now after going through all the decades—brash youthful confidence and physical ability of my 20's and 30's— the melancholy that accompanies more than one divorce with children upon entering my 40's and 50's, along with the definite slowing down of going through my 60's, and 70's and now my 80's is to set an example for my grandchildren, to see all people as children of God and to try to always do the right thing.

Today I am an old man, but I am quite happy with myself, my history, my accomplishments and what I still have to offer the world of today and its people. It was getting to this point that was hard.

By Don DuPay