You Can’t Help Getting Older But You Don’t Have To Get Old
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Aging sneaks up on us, changing us in small yet significant ways, and there is little we can do about it. Then again, we can make the road a little easier to travel. I recall a conversation with my friend Ken, a man who seemed to defy the demons of age. At the time, he was 15 years older than me, yet he carried himself with a vigor that belied his years. Once, during one of our many hikes, I asked him how he felt about aging, and I’ll never forget what he told me: “You just have to keep on keeping on.”
Ken’s active lifestyle epitomized his approach to aging. He’d regularly chop huge logs into firewood, which he stored in an open shed he had knocked together in a day. I used to tease him that he had enough wood for 50 years. He hiked with the determination of a younger man; each purposeful step belied his age. He was on two wheels, cycling miles along the solitary country roads when he wasn’t on foot. His nightly ritual was knocking back a carefully measured shot of whiskey, never more, before surrendering to sleep.
There was something raw yet refined about Ken. As a scientist and researcher, he commanded respect in professional circles but didn’t yearn for validation outside the lab. He exuded a certain kind of social recklessness, occasionally irritating but purely Ken. This was a man who, in his disregard for the judgment of others, had mastered the art of self-preservation.
While society might have its expectations—about how to age, live, and be—Ken dismissed these notions. “Be who you are,” he often said in his age-worn voice. It became a personal mantra. It’s not about conforming to what others expect but working to build an existence that embraces individuality even as the years accumulate.
As I travel the road Ken had already traveled, his words reverberate within me. With each year added to my age, his counsel gains new layers of relevance. It’s not just about combating the physical markers of time but facing one’s mortality without conceding to it.
In musing about the past, I heed the wisdom of Lord Tennyson, who cautions against the futility of regret, dismissing it as “tears, idle tears.” Regret serves little purpose save for emotional stagnation. Instead, I focus on the present, the lessons absorbed, and perhaps even the books and stories I’ve yet to write. Aging may be a relentless adversary, but like Ken, I choose to keep on going, constructing my narrative unburdened by the limitations of time.
It’s time to run the dogs with me alongside, but perhaps not quite so fast nor as intent on finding furry creatures. I refuse to let age break me down. I will keep on keeping on.
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Tennyson is underappreciated.