Yesterday was my wife’s birthday. She specifically told me she did not want a gift. Instead, she instructed that I was to put any extra money into an account for our younger daughter’s upcoming wedding. She also said we were not to go out for dinner. Instead, we would just stay home, have our usual fare, and watch a TV movie together. I listened attentively and assured her I understood. That was true, of course. I did understand. What I did not do was obey. “Undertand” and “Obey” are two very different things.
I made reservations at a nearby restaurant we both enjoy, a place simply called 1703. The food is always excellent there. The service is gracious and attentive. And, they have a wide assortment of decadent desserts. What’s not to love? Over dinner, I gave her a gift. She said, “I told you not to do this.” I answered, “I understand … I just didn’t obey.” From what I can tell, she liked what I gave her. It was wildly impractical and unneeded, but artistic and lovely. We talked about everything from the kids to sports to church to the news to my students to (especially) plans for the wedding. She talked about growing older. I assured her she’s as youthful and pretty now as when I first met her. She is.
I recently read Leanne Morgan’s memoir, What In The World. It’s honest, thoughtful, and (as anyone who is familiar with her would expect) funny. In one chapter she wrote about a moment in her life when she struggled with the concept of aging. As odd as it sounds, she was only twenty-four at the time. (I can’t see twenty-four in a rear view mirror.) Her struggle was the result of standing at a crossroad in life and, like Robert Frost, wondering which road to take in that yellow wood. She had married early in her college years. Her choice of a spouse was unwise, and the relationship turned out to be unfortunate and short-lived. She dropped out of school. By twenty-four, she was divorced and adrift so far as what to do with her life was concerned. She drove home and had a conversation with her father, telling him of her dilemma. She mentioned her fantasy about returning to college. However, she confessed, she was reluctant to take that step. She was worried about being “too old” for college life. “I don’t know,” she said to her dad, “I mean, I’ll be twenty-six when I finally graduate.” He answered, “Leanne, you’re going to turn twenty-six one way or the other. Why not get a degree when you do it?”
What age will you be on your next birthday? My guess is that for most of the folks who read what I write, the number will be significantly north of Leanne’s graduation age of twenty-six. The real question, of course, is not “what” will you be but rather “who” will you be. You’re going to turn whatever age it is anyway. The pages of the calendar continue to flip. We have no control over that. But what we can control is what we do with the time we have been given. Aging is inevitable. Becoming “old” is not. What you and I have at our disposal is the rest of our lives. As Leanne’s dad said, why not do something meaningful with it?
Retirement didn’t work for me. I tried it for exactly six weeks. That was enough. Now (seven years later) I am working three jobs, every one of which I adore. At one of the schools where I teach, I have become acquainted with numerous adjuncts who are men and women from my own generation. They, too, feel that the opportunity to make an impact shouldn’t have a shelf life. Whether or not we bring joy to our students, who knows? But this much I do know: every time I bump into one of my similarly aged colleagues, they are smiling. Wide smiles, in fact. They are finding life by refusing to sit around waiting to die. My wife will spend time today in a physical training class. She thinks of it as a kind of healthy and invigorating boot camp. (I think of it as a holdover from the Inquisition.) Yesterday she did an hour on the treadmill. Her routine varies daily, but she always returns home almost purple from exercise – and she loves it. After today’s class, she will spend some time gardening. And additional time entertaining our granddaughter. And additional time working on wedding plans. No sitting around lamenting aging for her. She’s too busy for that, and the busy-ness keeps her youthful. And attractive. And invested in life. I have friends who will spend some time today volunteering in local service institutions. I have others who will do what I am doing right now – they will write reflections on life, hoping their words will help somebody find a deeper quality of living, as well. Some of my friends will travel. Some will tutor. Some will be on golf courses, pickleball courts, or at tables with friends playing mahjong or bridge. Some will do valuable work for churches, synagogues, or civic clubs. Some will keep going to their offices because their work is a source of energy and joy for them. Whatever number of years you will be at your next birthday, well, you’re going to be that one way or the other. Why not do something meaningful with it? Because that is how we discover life with joy … not by retreating from it, but by throwing ourselves into it with passion and purpose.
I understand that the years pass. I cannot control that. But, I can control what I do with those years. So, I refuse to obey any foolish suggestion that I am condemned to allow time simply to “pass me by.” “Undertand” and “Obey” are two very different things.