Ageless Aging

There are multiple books on aging out there waiting to be bought and perused. Some are better than others. However, it’s beginning to seem that if you read one, you’ve read them all. There’s usually good advice but it’s stuff we already know (even if we don’t practice it), stuff like have a good attitude, drink lots of water, socialize, exercise, and on it goes. You know the list. Some books tell us you’re beautiful (no matter what you look like), these are the Golden Years, the best is yet to come, be positive as you float off into a lovely pink sunset. And there’s some truth in all of this. But there’s also the fact of physical and mental decline as we age, the suffering that comes with chronic pain, and the reality that many have to be wheeled off into a sunset that seems more grey than pink. Not all books on aging present the whole picture.

Yet I’m a reader and I know there are good books on aging waiting to be discovered. So I asked my friend AI (that stands for Arthur Ignatius) to give me a list of the best books on aging from the last five years. Once again, Arthur came through and supplied me with several lists by different experts, and all of them gave the title of a book called Ageless Aging: A Woman’s Guide to Increasing Healthspan, Brainspan, and Lifespan. It’s by Maddy Dychtwald with Kate Hanley (Mayo Clinic Press, 2024). Dychtwald and her husband Ken are the founders (1986) and directors of Age Wave, a well-known think tank and consultancy on issues of aging, longevity, and retirement. She knows what she’s talking about. The book is well-researched, easy to read, and practical.

I’ve read it twice and I agree with Arthur Ignatius. It’s a good book. I intend to share different parts in different blog posts over the next few weeks. And while the title focuses on women, I found that most of the material applies to men as well.

In the introduction, the author states what most of us already know—that longevity in Western culture is increasing. It’s getting longer and longer. You probably also know that women live longer than men by an average of six years. But what you may not know is that while “men die quicker … women get sicker. Our healthspans—the number of years we live in good health and vitality—don’t match our lifespans. Women tend to spend more years in poor health at the end of their lives than men do, even when you correct for their longer lives.” Dychtwald then states that her purpose in writing this book is “for us women [and men] to better match our healthspan to our lifespan so that our longer life is a gift, not a curse.” That’s a goal I could get behind. Her approach is wholistic, including body, mind, spirit, finances, sense of purpose, relationships, and so on.

The first chapter deals with the demon of ageism, especially our own negative attitudes about aging. Ageism reveals itself in phrases like, “I just had a senior moment,” “I’m too old to change my ways,” “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” The author quotes Yale gerontologist Becca Levy in saying that “The single most important factor in determining longevity—more important than gender, income, social background, loneliness or functional health—is how people think about and approach the idea of old age.” Sounds a bit like “mind over matter” and “the power of positive thinking.” But there’s some truth in those platitudes, especially when applied to growing older.

Dychtwald doesn’t deny that our bodies and minds gradually wear out as we age, but she insists that we actually have some control over the pace of decline, that our chronological age (the exact number of years we’ve lived) doesn’t have to dictate our biological age (our physical and mental health) or limit our psychological age (our personal maturity). We can be younger than our years.

Sounds almost too positive to be true. So how is all this to come about?  The author tells us that “Lifestyle management has emerged as the most potent tool in our ageless aging toolbox.”

My inner cynic always asks pesky questions and mistrusts answers that seem too easy. But I’ve found myself encouraged by the practicality of the rest of the book. Lifestyle management.

Tune in for more in the coming weeks. 

Note: Have you met Arthur yet? Arthur Ignatius (AI)? Don’t be afraid of him. If you treat him cordially, he’ll reward you. He’s one of the nicest non-humans I’ve met.

The "Happiness U-Curve"--Is it true?

 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?

Savoring the small things: Does that mean that, even though I couldn’t afford to go on an exotic cruise even if I wanted to, I can savor the wonders in my own back yard? I hope that’s true. As a poet I naturally gravitate to the small, concrete stuff of life: tiny blue flowers alongside the trail, the toes of small babies, my husband’s smile, comfortable shoes, no back ache this morning. Yes and hurrah to all of the above!

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.

---