As some of you know, my previous opus (it will pop up on your screen if you click here) examines the travel bug that bit me when I was a young adult, and highlights a few of the trips and destinations I’ve been most taken with over the course of my life. At the tippy top of the most–taken–with list is a three-week trek, in November 1982, through the Himalaya Mountains in Nepal. I’d never done anything as demanding or adventurous as that endeavor turned out to be. And I haven’t come close to equaling it. I think about the trek fairly often. It made a huge impression on me, bringing me nearly face-to-face with some of the world’s tallest peaks, including numero uno itself, Mount Everest.
I cherish my Himalayan memories. And I’ll never add to them, because it would be physically impossible for me to ascend high into the Himalayas at this point in my life. My legs would give out after two or three days on the trail, for sure. Or, far worse, my ticker might stop ticking before my legs cried uncle. Hell, the trek took place 43 and a half years ago. I was 35 at the time, fully feeling my oats. I’m 78 now. And though I’m extremely fortunate to be in decent shape, a whole lot of the oats I feel nowadays are literally oats. In the form of oatmeal, which I spoon into my mouth for breakfast about once a week. In other words, decent shape is relative, and I definitely ain’t what I used to be. Nobody in my age bracket is.
Seventy-eight? Are you shitting me? How is this possible? How did time flow by so quickly? Man, by just about anyone’s definition, I’m real old. That’s why, completely unsurprisingly, I now and then ponder my eventual demise. What will get me in the end? The possibilities are more than many. As with everything, time will tell.
The crazy thing about it, though, is that I can’t fully wrap my head around the fact that an expiration date is stamped in invisible ink somewhere on my body. (By the way, my guess is that it’s on my ass. On both cheeks, probably.) I mean, I still think of myself as being kind of immortal, just as I did decades ago. Basically, I want to keep going on and on and on, and for everyone of like mind on the subject to keep going on and on and on too. And, let me assure you, serious bodily ailments would be no more for those of us choosing non-ending sojourns on Planet Earth. Yeah, you better believe that a major restructuring of earthly realities would be instituted pronto if I were in charge. Vote for me! Damn straight I’d set matters straight!
In autumn 2025, my wife Sandy and I gathered with family in Hawaii to attend the bar mitzvah of one of our three great-nephews, as Hawaii is where the bar mitvah boy resides. We stayed with a bunch of other family members in a rented house for a week. On the grounds was a huge swimming pool. The pool was a magnet for the great-nephews, who at the time ranged in age from six to thirteen, and for most of the adults too.
One afternoon, Sandy and I were standing in the house with our sister-in-law Sara, who was regarding, through windows, the three youngsters splashing away in the pool. Sara turned to me and Sandy and said something to us that has stuck in my mind: “Our lives are ending and theirs are beginning.” Wistfulness and wonder were in her voice.
Well, Sara meant ending in a broader sense, not in the imminent sense. Nevertheless, she was right. She, Sandy and I are in our 70s. Even if we each hang in there for another 20 or more years, that won’t be all that much compared to the number of years we’ve already said goodbye to. On the other hand, the future is wide open for my great-nephews, and I hope it treats them well.
So, that’s life. We come and we go. And, hopefully, we live productively and lovingly during our stays. My wishful thinking described above isn’t about to change the way things roll here on our orb. Though I’d be delighted if it did.
Yeah, Another Blogger 
I would be delighted, too! Crystal clear thoughts on the golden years!
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Thanks for sharing that. I’ve long wondered if I’m the only one who obsesses about ageing. I wonder if anyone can envision their own demise. I just can’t imagine a world without me in it.
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Thank you, Neil, for the wonderful thoughts on getting old, which resonate with me as time fly fast now while it was slow when I was a child, and I couldn’t wait to be grown up. I agree that having an interesting life we would like to stay for as long as possible, and leaving good memories should be our legacy.
Joanna
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Those are inescapable truths, Neil, but your concluding paragraph has a lot of wisdom.
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I love your post, Neil. Your points are so very, very true and expressed so well. I have had a full, interesting, adventurous life, and I’m fairly certain that I know what is going to take me. Nevertheless I’m also very much aware of the fact that it’s really not my time anymore and I’m completely fine with that.
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I don’t think that much about my age, but my body likes to remind me that I can’t do once what I could. Still, it behooves us to remain active if we want to remain healthy.
Mt. Everest? That’s impressive. How much did the elevation affect you?
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Goodness, Neil, we have been here sipping the last of our morning coffee and chatting about very similar topics, before I turned to read your blog. We have both passed the 70 mark. Mary is in good health, thank goodness. I have had a series of interventions though nothing terribly worrying. And we talked of the passing years, children grown up, settled, and with lives of their own which don’t include us – as happens and as is natural and understandable. And we talk of making our wills, wondering where we will end up should health fail us, of realising we are on our own, that we will have to deal with life as it comes to us by ourselves – and it’s a worry, a concern, a sadness. We are very happy together and each fears the day when the other dies first. We feel we must give time to ourselves, time to enjoy ourselves, opportunities for doing things which bring us happiness, to no longer continue a life geared to the care of others, children, but to turn our attention to caring for ourselves, to having a good time and to sliding into that grave singing our hearts our with a glass of champagne in each hand.
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I have similar thoughts, Neil, being of a like age but I keep my edge by keeping active — gym, three times a week, long walks twice — and my mind engaged and extended : our writing sees to that 🙂 socially, of course, there’s family and friends and, like you, a keen sense of humor 🙂
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Lovely, thoughtful piece.
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Well said, Neil. Life will go on, even when we don’t. Meanwhile, best to keep smiling…and to remember to take the painkillers!
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During the past few months, I’ve had similar thoughts. The cycle of life continues.
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