On Age

              

(from Reaperman by Terry Pratchett)

YOU ARE OLD AS YOU THINK YOU ARE.

"Huh! Yeah? Really? That's the kind of stupid thing people always say. They always say, My word, you're looking well. They say, There's life in the old dog yet. Many a good tune played on an old fiddle. That kind of stuff. It's all stupid. As if being old was some sort of thing you should be glad about! As if being philosophical about it will earn you marks! My head knows how to think young, but my knees aren't that good at it. Or my back. Or my teeth. Try telling my knees they're as old as they think they are and see what good it does you. Or them.

In Praise of Patina

                                                            

                         

Such a useful word when one is an aging person living in an aging house surrounded by aging stuff.  

The spoon above was a wedding gift 59 years ago--it's coin silver and was already old when we were given it. And it already had the soft patina that many years of use and polishing had given it. It's one of my favorite things.

                                                           

  

A patina is a finish over a surface that develops over a period of time due to weather, stress and/or age. It is often used to refer to objects made of metal that develop a green film as a result of chemical reactions, as well as rust. However, the term can encompass any type of material, from metal to wood to leather.   

   

 The goose/swan was originally shiny copper . . .

The floorboards were smooth--but being soft pine, have worn.

The front door bears the scratch marks of generations of dogs who wanted IN.

The basement door and my hand--both showing signs of weather and wear. 

Ah, patina! Such a useful word.

On Aging

“I’m in the early stages of dementia,” said the cheerful woman of my age or younger. 

Now there’s a conversation stopper.

Awakened by the sun in my face one morning, I flung my arm over my eyes to block the light and get some more sleep. 

Awakening a second time, I saw the arm with its sagging crepey skin and thought, “My god! There’s an old woman in my bed!”

Is it the wisdom of age or the fading sight of age or the apathy of age that says material things  don't matter much – material things like vacuuming? Or the overgrown garden, the peeling paint, the fogged windows? 

 People matter, family matters – and that includes the animals I care for.