Maintenance

Definition of the noun "maintenance" from The Cambridge Dictionary: "the work needed to keep something in good condition", superimposed over a photograph of Adrian Segar
Definition of the noun “maintenance” from The Cambridge Dictionary: “the work needed to keep something in good condition”

As I grow older, I spend more and more time on maintenance—not of my home or possessions, but of my body.

My body doesn’t work as well as it used to.

Exercise, stretching, and standing consciously have become essential.

My short-term memory has deteriorated, making it harder to juggle the day-to-day details I once handled with ease.

Sleeping was once effortless, but I must now prepare medications and follow routines to ensure I get enough rest.

I find myself taking more pills than I ever thought I would.

I think to myself, how did I get here?

A photograph of a room with a woman holding a sign that says “How did I get here?”

Silver linings

Aging has brought gifts though. As my professional life slows, I have more time to consciously maintain my body and my relationships. The upside of a worsening short-term memory is that it’s easier to live in the moment!

I’m more aware than ever that I will not live forever.

This awareness brings, at times, some measure of equanimity.

The act of maintenance is inherently paradoxical—it is a fight against entropy, a refusal to let things fall apart. Maintenance implies that we can somehow maintain what we had at an earlier age. This of course is not how it works. Eventually, I will die and maintenance—along with everything else that occupies my attention—will no longer be a problem.

Until then, I will work diligently on maintenance, keeping my life the best it can realistically be.

That is enough. It is more than enough.
Photograph Adrian Segar in Philadelphia, standing in front of the Liberty Bell

Are you old yet?

are you old yet? a photograph of the 69-year-old skateboarding college professor Tom WinterAre you old yet? (Click on the image to watch the skateboarding professor, who’s my age.)

I turned 69 last week. My body and mind do not work as well as they used to. Oh for the days, long gone, when I went to bed, fell asleep immediately, and woke up eight hours later feeling refreshed! My stamina starts to drop at five pm; no more long productive bouts of late night work.

Traveling extensively for my meeting industry work, I’d meet hundreds of new people every year, and used to be pretty good at remembering their names and how and when I met them. Not these days.

There are all these little aches and pains that weren’t there before. Standing up from a chair is harder than it was. Standing after kneeling on the floor is unexpectedly difficult at times.

It’s not going to get better. (Although, I can run better than I did twenty years ago. But I really had to work at that.)

Anyway, I could go on. This is a litany you’ll likely experience at some point in your life. If you haven’t already.

So, I ask myself: “Are you old yet?”

And then, today, I read this quote from Nobel Prize winner Rosalyn Yalow.

“The excitement of learning separates youth from old age. As long as you’re learning, you’re not old.”
—Rosalyn Yalow

You know what? I’m still learning and unlearning every day — and I’m excited about it!

So I’ve decided.

I’m not old. Yet.

(How old are you, anyway?)

Photo attribution: Stephen Shield