“You can live to be a hundred if you give up all the things that make you want to live to be a hundred.”
— Woody Allen, filmmaker, actor, and comedian.
Age and I have long been odd acquaintances.
I’ve never felt as old as I assumed someone my age should feel.
Certainly not as old as that guy looking back at me from the mirror every morning.
Maybe it’s the dive I took a few weeks ago.
The one that ended when I met with the concrete. Guardian angels were working overtime.
The fall did minimal damage. But falling can change one’s outlook on aging. And on thoughts about living to a ripe old age. Say, 100 or so.
I read recently that one in 10,000 people are termed “slow agers,” someone for whom the odds favor reaching 100. Aging studies fascinate me as one who has always wanted to hang around as long as possible. When my parents were the age that I am now, I regarded them as “old.” Really old. I see clearly now that was not the case, however. My father had been retired for 13 years when he was my age. And I am not “really old.”
It does seem that time goes by faster than it once did. As a kid, waiting a year for Christmas, a birthday, or the last day of school felt like an eternity. Today, those years are like weeks, and weeks are like hours.
That could be rooted somewhere in the percentage of life those measurements of time represented, compared to today. For instance, at age 10 those 12 months represented 10 percent of our total life experience. For Baby Boomers like me, it’s less than two percent today.
Guess that’s what Dad meant when he said, “Aging’s like toilet paper. The closer to the end you get, the faster it rolls off.”
The gurus of aging have long written that the key to reaching a ripe old age is based on healthy living. I’m health conscience, to a reasonable degree. After all, “they” say that most things are acceptable in moderation. I take that to include chocolate chip cookies and banana pudding.
Others theorize that aging is more about genes than lifestyle.
Thinking about that, I remembered the lifestyle of my paternal grandfather. He worked from age 13 to just a few years before his death.
Outdoors in all kinds of weather.
Although the vice of smoking never enticed me, I was mesmerized by his ability to manipulate cigarette paper and Prince Albert tobacco into one smooth roll sealed with a lick and inserted between his lips as he reached for a match. Add to that his breakfast of fried eggs and bacon for breakfast.
Every morning.
That unhealthy lifestyle finally got him— just short of his 80th birthday.
There are also clues that one’s longevity odds may be better if lots of elderly relatives are found swinging from the family tree. That might also depend, I assume, on how well you get along with all your relatives.
My parents died in their 80s, as did my father’s parents—if you count my grandfather’s almost 80. Mom’s parents died young, her father in his 50s, and her mom in her early 40s. However, her father had siblings who lived well into their 80s and 90s. Did her Uncle Walter make it to 100? I forget.
Others advise to “keep moving.” Walking. One popular logic is faster walkers live longer.
Specifically, one study found that the reward for a speed increase of just four inches per second in your stride could be a 12-percent decrease in the risk of death.
Thinking about getting back home and to my easy chair is sufficient encouragement for me to walk faster.
Also, ranking high on long-life odds seems to be social engagement.
“There was a clear, similar trend among people who had civic engagements, were active in their communities, volunteered, and otherwise stayed connected, whether with families, friends, or coworkers,” according to Leslie R. Martin, a professor of psychology at La Sierra University in Riverside, California, the coauthor of The Longevity Project.
It must be true. I’ve never known many old hermits. But truthfully, I’ve never met a hermit.
More enlightening tidbits from The Longevity Project included findings that religious women lived longer— primarily because of the social connectedness of their faith-based lifestyle. They worship together, join committees, and engage in social outreach.
Mom was faithful in her church activities. She and her good friend from church also enjoyed together, morning coffee blended with just “a pinch of brandy.”
I didn’t see that statistic noted. Must be something to it however, they both outlived their husbands.
Then, there’s the old nemesis called stress.
The modern thought is that a certain amount of worrying is “healthy,” just not too much. So, how much is too much?
Reports show that the proverbial half-full glass is OK as long as we view it as half full rather than half empty.
So, what does all this mean? We won’t know for sure until those 100 candles start to glow.
In the meantime, I’m sticking with my secret for longevity—enjoying the things that make me want to live to be a hundred. At least the ones I can still do.
