Elderlings: Behind Our Doors

The ash tree’s leaves fluttered against a silver-gray sky like pennants on a car lot’s string line as a brisk breeze pushed a slate overcast and pulled a clear-blue-sky cold front behind it. I mused upon the sight as I sat in our platform rocker in front of our faux fireplace whose fake flames pretended to be what warmth the internal heater’s fan blew out. I was in my wife’s office. She sat at her computer, composing her/our third book. I watched the leaves and mused.

Actually, I contemplated what she and I were doing and idly pondered our peers might be doing. Here we were, “Elderlings” at seventy-something each, quietly and contentedly sitting close to each other, yet apart, each occupied with our own thoughts, yet each immersed in the other.
 

I was musing about what others in my peer-age group were doing. What do we “White Hairs” do when we shut our front doors after taking out our garbage bins, checking our mail, or returning from our doctor appointments? Oh, before we lower the garage door, we’ll wave to that neighbor across the cul-de-sac if she’s in her driveway or we’ll shout, “How you doin?” to the old guy across the street walking to his mailbox. Maybe say, “I haven’t seen you in a while” to the next-door neighbor washing her car in her driveway. We might ask, “What was that ambulance doing down the street about a month ago?” We might even say, “Let me tell you about my ER experience back in July.” Perhaps we may even “sit awhile” on one of their front porches at sundown. But what do we, us “Fiesty Fogeys,” do when we button ourselves up inside our dwellings?

Why do I wonder that? I wonder because I am a member of the “Golden Age Years,” and I wonder if I’m like my peers. This wonderment goes back to my growing-up years in Central Florida. I lived in a very small town. My childhood house was at the end of an unpaved clay street. I felt, and was, isolated. I knew Florida was a tourist state that attracted many outsiders, like me. But how much alike were we? I received an epiphany as a teenager. I was fortunate to be included with a group going to a large church convention in North Carolina. People from our denomination came from all over the United States. It was mind-boggling to my young mind used to only a small town and living at the end of a clay street. I sat in the balcony of a huge auditorium and the first speaker began to speak. He led off with jokes. And, to my utter shock and amazement, everybody laughed. Together. And they continued to do so for the jokes of speaker after speaker! We were alike! All of us had the same sense of humor! That experience went deep.

That is the same wonderment I have in my “Graybeard Years.” It never left me. If me and my peers were that much alike then, shouldn’t we still be? So, then, what do we Oldsters do behind our doors?

We take our pills on schedule. We creak and crack when we stand up from our recliners and have to start off slow before we unhinge to a full walk. We doze a bit while watching that must-see television show we’ve wanted to see all week. We just can’t figure out how to get that app on our phones or off our computers. And isn’t it just frustrating how that fool smart phone keeps flicking things around when your finger just barely brushes it and then won’t even change when you tap, tap, tap it? Yes, we Darling Dotards do have a great deal in common!

Behind those closed doors, however, do we sit beside our loved ones in our recliners while we watch our favorite television shows? Do we start sleep in each other’s embrace? Do we stay in touch with friends via social media, telephone or texts? Do we read, stay abreast of current events and take pride in our communities? Do we find more tolerance in our judgments? Do we rejoice in our years? Do we continue to dream our dreams? Do we sleep nude, hoping no ambulance will have to come get us tonight? Do we marvel at the unfathomable mystery of life? Do we sit in platform rockers and gaze out windows? Do we fret over finances?

I think we, as kindred members in our Seniorhood, do these and more. Just as it was good to know my young-aged peer group laughed together at the same jokes – that we got it together – so is it wonderful to know that my kindred Old Stagers also have it together. We share the same Twilight Time, and we are not alone. Even behind closed doors…behind our doors.