The "Do You Really Like Being Old?" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Just opened my email and there was once again a letter from my good friend Bill whom I knew as a child.  His mother moved he and his sisters to a nearby town when he was in third grade, but we managed to keep in touch with each other throughout our entire lives.  When computers were affordable for both of us, our task of writing to one another became so much easier.  Well, we are both in our mid-70s now and still keep in touch.  Bill lives in Arizona and I live in Pennsylvania, but through the use of our computers and iPhones, we share our thoughts with each other often.  He recently sent me a very interesting and moving novella on "being old."  For those who are in the same age bracket as Bill and me, you will see yourself in the novella, while those who are much younger will get a chance to see what we old-timers think and feel about getting and being old.  Print a copy of the novella and share it with your friends.  I'm sure they will see themselves in the novella as I did.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

Do you really like being old?

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world, too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.  Aging in body, mind and soul.  And, whose business is it, if I choose to read, or play on the computer, until 4 AM, or sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50s, 60s & 70s, and sing at the top of my lungs if I care to and not care if I’m out of tune.  I will walk the beach, without a swim suit if I so care, and will dive into the waves, with abandon, if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from others. They, too, will get old.  I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And, eventually, I remember the important things.  Sure, over the years, my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break, when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when one's beloved pet dies?  If I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love, I will cry, unashamed, my heart out.  But broken hearts are what give us strength, understanding and compassion.  A heart never broken, is pristine, and sterile, and will never know the joy of being imperfect.  And, who among us is perfect?  I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray and disappear and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.  As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore.  I've even earned the right to be wrong.  So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting about what could have been, or worrying about what will be.  And I shall eat dessert after every meal ... every single day (if I feel like it).