NO TIME OR WRINKLES ON MY HANDS

Many people tell me I neither look my age nor act it. To the latter, the reply is simple. My mother must have lost the manual that came with me at birth with the chapter on growing old. Had I observed her more closely I might have had a model but she never seemed to change until, all of a sudden, she just gave up doing things she had always done. Arthritis stiffened her fingers so she stopped sewing, crocheting. She never had been much of a reader other than phonetically spelling out signs when we were driving since English was not her natural language. Short term memory disappeared.

It made me think about how I judge age. White hair, 'liver spots', wrinkles, arthritic lumps and bends, slowed responses and speech, short term memory loss, and lots of verbal repetition. Women gain weight in the abdomen. I assume that when the spine compresses, the only way to go is out. Men seem to somehow lose their butts. It is rare to see a mass of great proportion filling out the back of an old man's trousers. These are the major criteria I have been taught to notice.

Presuming it is must be a genetic feature, neither of my parents had liver spots nor significant wrinkles and neither do I, nor do my older siblings, even those who sunbathed excessively. My arthritis seems to be covered by flesh, with the exception of two small knobs on my forefingers, though I was promised I would have arthritis (by my orthopedist) twenty-four years ago over a broken ankle. He kept his word.

According to Wikipedia: "Liver spots are blemishes on the skin associated with aging and exposure to ultraviolet radiation from the sun. They are also known as age spots, sun spots, lentigos, or senile/solar lentigines. They range in color from light brown to red or black and are located in areas most often exposed to the sun, particularly the hands, face, shoulders, arms and forehead, and the head if bald. Liver spots are not related to the liver physiologically, but do have a similar color. It was once believed, apparently incorrectly, that liver spots were due to liver problems."

What, then, is it to look old or act old? Recalling my father's sadness when he outlived all his friends and relatives of his generation, it was determined a long time ago that I would never limit myself to interacting with people my own chronological age, at least not until after I was thirty or forty. Prior to that, I hung around with people who were older than I because those my own age seemed too young, couldn't drink, drive, or lacked the curiosity about life that I suffered.

Today, the criteria for spotting age has changed somewhat. More often, with women I look for signs of plastic surgery having been done since there are professions where youthful looks are important, like those in the public eye (entertainment, politics, TV media, and vanity). Both men and women dye their hair and male politicians wear toupees when they bald. Since none of those are my category, I blissfully age and just try to look in the mirror less often because I see my mother looking back at me from there.

Since I'm not convinced there is an afterlife, I live every day to the fullest extent within my control. Liver spots would be the only way there could be 'time on my hands'. Twenty four hours a day is just not enough time to enjoy all there is to enjoy. Survival takes too much time! Cutting out unnecessary tasks only leaves the space I live in looking like 12 small rooms of obstacle course. One would think my motto is 'leave no space unfilled'. Perhaps it is. Since my mind is cluttered, it seems natural that my space would do the same.