AGING GRACEFULLY

My marketing manager asked that I update my bio photo for any new fiction book releases. The photo I’ve been using is at least 10 years old, and it’s an outdoor shot taken in the desert. She wanted one of me sitting behind a desk of all places. When I mentioned that looks have changed drastically since that last picture was taken, the woman tried to reassure me by saying, “You’ve more than likely aged gracefully since then!”

I’ve heard that term “aging gracefully” from time to time, yet never knew what it exactly meant, always thinking that Clint Eastwood or Christie Brinkley fit the mold. After looking things up, I discovered the following:

Aging gracefully is often used as a euphemism for “looking old, but still holding on” or “showing signs of aging—yet still moving forward with life.” That definition fits not just Hollywood types, but all of my senior friends.

Some have hit their fair share of potholes in the road but continue to motor along. I fit that category as does my wife. I’d love to share some details here, but our life problems haven’t been much different than anyone else’s.

Some of my friends had catastrophic things happen to them over the years, but overcame, while others didn’t. I’m not one to disclose personal information of anyone just for a story, and I’d hope they’d do the same. Some of them have some outstanding tales to tell if they ever elect to share them.

Getting back to my definition of aging gracefully: I know that if Clint Eastwood walked into a local restaurant, all attention would immediately focus his direction. The same would happen with Christie Brinkley.

Christie was born on February 2, 1954, some 66 days before me, yet she looks 30 years younger. Clint Eastwood is 93 years old, but you can’t tell, at least I can’t. They’ve both definitely aged well.

I can associate aging gracefully more with an automobile than anything. Attend any car show and you’ll see what I’m referring to. Vintage cars such as Camaros and Corvettes still elicit mega attention, even from the younger crowd. I’d equate those vehicles as being a Clint Eastwood or Christie Brinkley. Crowds gather around them like bees on honey.

If I were an automobile and was at a car show, I’d be more akin to a 1972 AMC Gremlin with rust and dents. Still able to motor in and then drive out under my own power, where aging gracefully is concerned, that’s more than I could ask for. There’d definitely be no crowds standing around oohing and aahing for sure.

People would stroll by barely giving me a second glance, and every so often someone would stop and say, “That’s an oldie for sure. I wonder if they had to tow it here?”

Still being able to move forward means a lot to me. If that’s as good as things get from here on out, I’ll be happy.