Scene: Boston Restaurant. The menus arrive and my dinner companions briskly snap them open and begin throwing commentary about the selections.
I move the menu closer to my face. “Geez, I can hardly see this.” I angle the menu this way and that, trying to harvest a bit of light.
Minutes pass. “I have never seen a menu with smaller type than this,” I complain, and pick up the table candle, hoping its meager flame might deliver some clarity.
The waiter arrives. The others order. I am still trying to make out the specials.
Finally, defeated, I look across the table at my 40-something friend. “May I borrow your glasses?”
And the next week I went and bought some.
I had been in denial about my vision for months, pushing away what I knew was incontrovertible evidence that middle age was upon me. It took a while, but practicality finally overcame vanity. I mean, I could no longer decipher box scores. What kind of a life is that?
Older folks are probably reading this and thinking to themselves: just wait. You ain’t seen nothin’—so to speak.
My first concession to age (I’m 45) was insignificant compared to those I know will come later. But I have had a glimpse into how an aging body can redefine one’s reality, and the compromises one learns to live with.
In our cover story, beginning on page 48, we focus on what aging means to individuals and to a culture that prizes youth. It’s a crucial issue as Baby Boomers begin to reach retirement age and the percentage of older Americans rises sharply. By the time my contemporaries and I reach age 65, Social Security will be running on fumes, and the costs associated with keeping us healthy for the next however many years will be extraordinary. Many of the scenarios are bleak and distressing. However, psychology professor Laura Carstensen poses a provocative question, with an upside: might an aging society actually be a good thing?
There’s no doubt the aging of the American populace will affect the character of the country. Retirees already are a powerful political force—what kind of imprint will tens of millions of octogenarian Baby Boomers leave on Congress, culture, the courts? Before we get there, says Carstensen, we need to redefine our notions of age and aging.
If you could live to be 100, would you want to? Your answer probably is: it depends. It depends on your health, where you live and with whom, and how much freedom you have. In short—will you have a life, or simply be alive?
I don’t expect to live to be 100, but if I do, the year will be 2059 and there will be almost 1 million centenarians, according to demographers’ estimates. (Today there are about 50,000.) Imagine it—there will be people running the country who aren’t even born yet. Some of them won’t even need glasses to read a menu. What will they think of us? And what will we think of them?
Perhaps they will have a special club for us and the 1 millionth member gets a free pass to a Rolling Stones concert.
After all, Mick Jagger will only be 116.
