Don't Let the Old Woman Out

 

I recently read an interview with James Brolin. He was the dreamy doctor on Dr. Welby, MD in 1969. He had recently turned 80 and was going strong. He said he looked in the mirror and realized he was older--wrinkles and crinkles and such--but remembered something Clint Eastwood (90) had once said, "Don't let the old man out." And Brolin decided to run with that.

I look in the mirror at age 70 and see the wrinkles and lost lips and crinkly eyes. When COVID hit, the government called my age group "elderly." That label was a shock to me and all in my high school friends! We spent many days on Facebook discussing and disagreeing with that label. My grandmother, when she was in her 80s, was asked over the phone if she was "elderly;" she answered, "Well, I'm not 90 yet."

We know this stuff. We know not to let the old woman out.

 

Today I had a ZOOM get together with my sister and cousin.  We laughed and laughed for over an hour. We were as young as we will ever be again. Laughing and frolicing. I know that I can't get up off the floor easily. I can't walk well nor fast because of some balance issues. I can't imagine hang gliding nor bungee jumping, like some of my older friends can.  But hey!

I can bake a great pie, make a terrific dinner, enjoy the snow falling around my house (I love snow, as a concept). I can happily sing with good volume, write an essay, make a quilt. I can do stuff that younger women can't because I don't care if I'm seen as silly or what. 'Cause I ain't gunna let the old woman out! While I can, I'm going to laugh and bring others giggles and snorts and be silly and act the fool--no differently than when I was 16 or 32 or 45. I'm going to try to live a happy long life. 

Years ago--when we were in our late 20s--a friend and I, while visiting his grandmother at a nursing home, heard over the loud speaker, " Mabel has escaped again. Please find her and bring her back to her room." We pictured Mabel racing out the open gate in her wheelchair, romping through the gated yards, and gleefully cherishing freedom with the wind flying through her hair. And right then and there, we decided that we were going to be the ones they will need to call for help to bring back. Frolicing through the hallways is always an option. I noticed that the people who smiled and connected with others in the nursing home where my mother lived her final four years of life seemed so much more satisfied with their lives than others. They weren't letting the old person out.  

 

So let's make a vow. Raise your right hand and repeat after me. "I will continue to play and frolic and laugh and laugh and laugh for as long as I am able."

We will not let the old woman out. 

And so it goes
peace~~~