O: Old Age – Not a New Concern

I admit that I am an old man.
I read my years in my mirror,
others read them on my brow. ~
Francesco Petrarca (Petrarch), letter, c.1366–1367, translated by Morris Bishop, 1966

I found it interesting that over 650 years ago, Francesco these words about admitting to being an old man. It seems that concerns about ageing are not something new. Now, I have to admit, that taken out of context of the rest of the letter, I really don’t know if he was fretting about his age, or simply acknowledging a fact. He possibly wasn’t concerned or worried about it at all. It could merely be a statement that he is now old. That he sees his years in the mirror, while others see them on his brow.

Which isn’t anything new. I’m often surprised when I see the woman in the mirror staring back at me and I often don’t immediately recognize her. Especially if it’s on one of those days where my mind still feels as if I’m a young (or at least youngish) girl – and possible the rock and roll is blasting. (Interesting side note – my music is now called ‘classic’. It’s not ‘oldies’ any more. Oldies was my mother’s music.)

I have to admire Francesco’s direct statement – I admit that I am an old man.

Now, I don’t know if I could make that same bold statement. At sixty I don’t feel as if I’m ‘old’. I’m definitely old-er. Much older than the youngster once prancing about the yard in her brand new coveted white go-go boots, singing ‘These boots are made for walking.’ Older than the brash, young 18-year old I once was. Older than the 30-year old young mother.

I suppose it’s all relative. To my sons, who are now the 30-year old fathers, I’m possibly old. To the grade school child next door, I’m most definitely old. To my 70-year old dear friend, or my 82-year old mother – nope, still a young whipper-snapper.

Guess you know who I’ll be hanging around with as often as I can!