Aging in Ageist America

My ancestors come from Ireland and Scotland, Germany and Bohemia. Along the way, they met and married Pennsylvania Dutch and Blackfoot Indian. And others. A confusion of heritage exists in me. I guess that makes me American.

I have three sons, all full grown. They are fine young men who make me proud. I have a wife who loves me and whom I deeply love in return. I have a small circle of friends - most of whom I've never even met, physically.

And I wonder.

When one gets to the point that one realizes more of life is behind than ahead, one begins to look for value in one's existence. One looks for affirmation and acceptance, and one finds it harder and harder to gain such. And it seems the more one looks, the more one needs, the rarer it becomes. Our society, among all its 'ists' and 'isms', is ageist. The older one gets, the more invisible.

I can't complain. I've got a relatively good life. But I wonder, nonetheless.

Who am I?

Why am I?

Who will care, beyond family, when there is no 'I'?

And why does it make such a difference?

Do me a favor. Hug an old person. Call an old mother or father. Let someone who raised you know you love them - unbidden and without a reason. Kiss your grannie, if you can. While you can.


Ndinombethe.