Older Age: What Is It Good For? (Part II)

My earliest perception of being older occurred when I decided to take the big step, something I had put off for months: asking for the senior discount when buying a ticket at the Regal Cineplex in Union Square. I anticipated that the agent would be incredulous at my claim and demand proof off my bona fides. When this did not happen and the agent just charged the lower price, I felt discombobulated. Could he not see what I see when I look in the bathroom mirror? A frisky colt, wizened but certainly no geezer. Was this clerk playing mind games with me? How dare he! But, wait, I was the one asking for the discount. Age had begun screwing with my head.

I used to be quite adventurous, flirting with danger now and again: rock climbing with my college buds, 100-mile bike rides, backpacking through Eastern Europe. I thought of this when downing, in one swallow, my usual complement of 15 pills during lunch. I was alone in the house and this jarring, cockamamie thought rocked my brain: what if I choke and die right there on the spot. Taking pills, I suddenly realized, was now the most dangerous activity in my life. Perhaps older age was the new adventure?

Lately, I could not help but notice that I was more avidly reading the Times obituaries, particularly the ones for people in their eighties and older. I experienced joy that if they could live that long…