I’ve been reading a fascinating book entitled This Chair Rocks: A Manifesto Against Ageism by Ashton Applewhite (2016). The author defines ageism as “discrimination and stereotyping on the basis of a person’s age,” and she goes through the whole book detailing its manifestations in our culture. She expresses some of the fallacies of ageism as Wrinkles are ugly. Old people are incompetent. It’s sad to be old. Applewhite counteracts the prejudices of ageism with her very positive take on the values and joys of being an older person. She almost overdoes both ends of the sad/happy continuum, and contrasts with another fascinating book I blogged on earlier this year, Susan Jacoby’s Never Say Die: The Myth and Marketing of the New Old Age. (See my blog on January 9, 2024.)
As usual, I find questionable
extremes along with much of value in both books.
Applewhite refers to what is to me
a new concept—the U-curve of happiness. “People are happiest at the beginnings
and the ends of their lives. If you don’t take my word for it, Google ‘U-curve
of happiness.’ Even as age strips us of things we cherished—physical strength,
beloved friends, toned flesh—we grow more content.”
I love that idea, but is it true?
Is it true for all old people (obviously not), most old people, or a special
group of really mature oldsters? Is it true mostly among white, wealthy,
healthy retirees? Is it a cross-cultural reality (one study says yes)?
Applewhite cites research that
“proves” that little kids and old people tend to be the happiest people in the
world. (She doesn’t mention it, but I assume that refers to people not living
in war zones or depressed neighborhoods.) She includes a 2008 combined Gallup poll
and University of Chicago study where 340,000 Americans between the ages of 18
and 85 were surveyed, with mentally sharp old people winning the happiness
trophy.
The author quotes an expert on
aging (these seem to abound) who “points out that in contrast to the doubts and
insecurities of youth, growing older enables us to become more self-aware and
confident, less fearful of being judged, and authentically happy. Not that life
gets easier, but that it becomes easier to focus on what truly matters—and that
makes it better.”
I like that and I think there’s
truth to it. But I’m not sure how widely it applies. I look at it as something
to grow into.
Applewhite says that “age itself
confers very effective coping mechanisms upon ordinary people…. savoring the
small things, letting go, and practicing gratitude.” That could refer to
mature people at any age.
While this list obviously does not
exhaust the ways we cope with old age, it’s sweet. I want to briefly reflect on
these three coping mechanisms. How am I doing?
Letting go: This one is
trickier. Some of my friends have recently had to let go of their life
partners, their mobility, even their memories. Not so easy. And it’s not as
though they had a say in the matter. I guess in these cases, it’s coming to a
point of acceptance that matters. Will I be able to handle these kinds of losses with
maturity? Probably, with God’s help. In the meantime, I learning to let go of
my role in the family, my books, my ability to run along the beach, chocolate,
more than one cup of coffee a day, my place in line. And maybe I’m learning to
hold closer to things that matter. I keep narrowing down the list of those
things. Letting go of the rest. And after the sorrow of loss, breathing a sigh
of relief.
Practicing gratitude: Most
self-help, how-to-be-happy books mention the importance of being thankful.
Because it’s true. But it’s also hard not to be glib and fluffy about
gratitude. Realism is important as we age. Loss, pain, and inevitable death are
no laughing matters. So, a mixture of realism and gratitude would seem to be
the way of wisdom. A sort of gritty gratitude that faces the unpleasant
realities of the aging process and dares to say thank you anyway. That’s
hard. And that’s why we need to practice.
So this morning I say Thank you
for all my body parts that are functioning just fine—my heart (that’s a big
one!), my tear glands, my kidneys, the right side of my brain, and so on. At
this point in my journey, there’s more stuff that’s working well than not. Thank
you for early morning sunshine, in spite of a rainy forecast. Thank you
for the “leaping greenly spirits of trees,” as e.e. cummings put it. Thank
you for poets. Thank you for the new glasses that let me read the
poets. I could go on and on, but I won’t. I just pray that the next time I’m
feeling grumpy, woeful, or old, I can still think of something to say thank
you for.
Are old people, in general,
happier than younger adults? I’m not sure. The studies are provocative, but not
totally persuasive. I do know that as I’ve been reading my old journals, I
notice that I’m currently a calmer, more peaceful person than I’ve ever been.
Interesting.
Guess I’ll just keep
practicing—savoring the small things, letting go, and saying thank you
as often as I can.
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