I think I will tear my hair out if one more person asks me, “How’s your bucket list coming alone?” The implication is that I’m running out of time to see Morocco, jump out of an airplane, learn Italian or any number of demanding feats.
If I were to answer, “The hell with a bucket list!” in all likelihood I’d be considered a failure at aging where the model for “successful aging” is to act as young as possible, breathlessly filling my later years with age-defying adventures. The AARP reflects this trend with their images of the 80-year-old who rock climbs at dizzying heights, the 91-year-old marathon runner, or elderly couples on safari staring down wild animals.
I gave up on a bucket list because it feels like too much pressure to devote my later years to a checklist of exhausting activities.
I want to spend my dotage not ignoring my part to join in meaningful social action but where the bulk of my days are devoted to reading, blogging, undemanding travel and meaningful conversations with dear friends. I don’t want to bungee jump at 75 to astonish friends and family. I want society’s expectations for aging to honor my slowing down and not force me to act as if 75 is the new 55 when it isn’t.
Why can’t we see images of aging women and men who are more like you and me?
Instead of an older woman blissfully working in her garden or laughing with close friends, the media promotes 98-year-old Tao Porchon-Lynch bending her body into challenging yoga poses. Let’s face it: Porchon-Lynch is an outlier–just as Jane Fonda’s wrinkle-free face is hardly the face of an 81-year-old woman.
The prevailing images of elders flying airplanes or racing cars represent the anti-aging industry, which is essentially death-denying. We live in a society obsessed with being young, reluctant to embrace images of older adults unless they act young. As long as older adults appear youthful, they’re not in their last chapter where death is on the horizon.
We’re not doing the next generation any favors if we fudge our aging. We owe it to them to be real about aging where we don’t pretend to have young, flexible bodies that can hike for hours but instead show them that just because we’ve slowed down our lives don’t lack meaning.
Fortunately there’s an emerging trend among older adults to write about the pleasures of aging where daily life is not punctuated with eyebrow-raising accomplishments. Diana Athill, the recently deceased British editor and memoirist describes the quiet pleasures of her later years when the peace of mind so urgently pursued in one’s younger years is an every day occurrence.
We need to have conversations with younger adults demonstrating to them that old age still holds a strong desire to keep learning and growing, but with a different focus, often in pursuit of deepening our spiritual beliefs.