Dearest Rachel –
Yesterday, I mentioned something rather in passing about how I see those who are my peers – people my age – to somehow be older than myself. As I was writing that parenthetical comment, I realized that it could stand to be expanded upon, but if I were to do that right there and then, I would completely lose my original train of thought – and at that point, I was pretty near the end of the topic I was discussing already. So I decided to set it aside for another day’s letter… and here I am with it, on an otherwise clear day in terms of subject matter.
To be sure, this is something you would more than be able to relate to; in fact, you might respond with a grin and something along the lines of “What took you so long?” since you were always whatever your age was going on much younger. You tended to appreciate the characterization of yourself as “five” (or seven or nine – I forget your ideal age, but I’m pretty sure it was in the single digits) “with forty-odd years of experience.”
Some of our earliest interactions outside of the Bible study group had you and your roommate Elizabeth asking me if I could drive you to the local mall (I forget whether I was already going and you asked to tag along, or if the two of you simply asked if I could drive you there) in the town our college campus was located. Once there, the two of you proceeded to carry on like kids behind their somewhat straitlaced father, which you then proceeded to make light of and build an entire make-believe family genealogy around over the course of the next couple of years. To you, I wasn’t so much a classmate as “Daddy,” albeit in a lighthearted, jocular manner.
Which rather begs the question, now that I’m thinking about it; once I acknowledged that I would have wanted to grow old together with you, and that apparently caused something to click within you in turn, would that have been the case of “daddy issues”?
Although… that’s neither here nor there anymore. What was plain to you, even then, was that I wasn’t the lighthearted free spirit that you were, but somewhat more methodical and organized… more “grown-up,” in other words. And I wouldn’t deny it; I was something of a prodigy as a child, and as a result, felt more comfortable around those older than myself, since I considered them my intellectual peers – although that could be hit or miss, as some older kids didn’t take kindly to younger tagalongs, and made such interactions… let’s just say uncomfortable. That actually could have been part of what turned me into something of a social isolationist, upon further reflection – that, and the whole denominational thing while growing up at a Lutheran school as a non-Lutheran.
Further on, though, I’d specifically planned out a future career, and chose a college that had (or at least claimed) a reputation for turning out excellence in that field, rather than going in aimlessly as an ‘undeclared’ major, hoping things would work out for the best. And I realize this isn’t to contrast myself to you, since you had chosen a major (and a minor, for that matter) when you enrolled in university; this is just to further point out that I was trying to conduct myself in an adult manner, even then. Granted, I did try to counter the stodgy reputation of my profession, but even that required deliberate effort on my part; which is rather oxymoronic, to make an effort to be spontaneous and free-spirited. Something like that, you either are or aren’t, and from the start, and as I grew older, I wasn’t, at least, not naturally.
So it might surprise – and amuse – you to hear me claim that I see myself as being younger than the calendar insists that I am. But here’s the thing; it’s not that I see myself as a little kid, like you did, or even an adolescent, much as I might want to be. I know my limits, and what I might – and won’t – pass for. Even now, I look in the mirror, and I suppose I appear to be every one of my fifty-eight years… and wonder if I shouldn’t shave this beard off, as a starting point.
Rather, I listen to people decades younger than myself complain about chronic aches and pains, and try to figure out what they’re even talking about. They idea of getting out of bed and hearing the sound of popcorn popping – only to realize it’s your various joints complaining about having to move – is an alien concept to me. Others are dealing with debilitating illnesses and other weaknesses – which, to their credit, they don’t so much complain about as acknowledge as part of the aging process – that I can’t relate to having, whether at their age or mine. I’ve never so much as broken a bone, I’ve never needed anything replaced… I’m still basically all original from the factory. And I’ve started to wonder if I’m not actually a lot younger than my actual age would insist that I am… and if I shouldn’t act it a bit more, while I’m at it.
Now, it’s not as if I haven’t had my share of aches and pains; for a long time, we chose our mattress to deal with the fact that I’d often had a problem with a stiff back (which nowadays, is only an occasional issue). Meanwhile, I’m still getting over this current cold – which I basically get at least once a year, although this one seems to have let me remain ambulatory the whole time, for once. Still, if it’s the worst I deal with, I should consider myself quite fortunate.
I suspect that some of this has to do with the fact that I’ve lost all this weight (although I’ll readily admit I’m nowhere near my nadir at this point), compounded with the fact that I’ve been doing so much more walking than I ever used to, even when we used to cruise together and get footsore in port (although again, the last few weeks have been limited for one reason or another). I’m able to do more than I have been in decades, and as a result, I appear to feel younger than people decades my junior. As a result, they feel more like my peers than my actual peers, which is really strange to come to grips with.
Then again, it may just as easily be the continued residual effect of living with you and your childlike attitudes and actions (multiplied by the fact that you’re now frozen in time at a certain age). Who’s to say? I do wish you would have been able to see the day, though; I’m sure you would have appreciated it.
