In my most recent paper, I wrote that “I did not” think about aging and that the issue did not occur to me even as I was getting older. In addition to lots of skiing in my late 60s and early 70, I Hiked in the Himalayas to the basecamp of Everest, biked a hundred miles a day in China, 50 to 70 a day in Portugal, and kayaked off the coast of Hawaii and Guatemala. Never once did I think about a time that my active life would come to an end.
It did, of course, and here I am at 96, writing about aging and asking others about their inner thoughts regarding the subject. There was someone very close to me (I am amazed and honored by the number of people I feel close to) whom I asked if they ever thought about aging and getting older. I was surprised when he answered without hesitation that he had thought about aging for some time. He is an artist and has done work in a variety of media, loves woodwork with a passion, and, by the way, is an exceptional furniture maker.
He has worried for years that the time will come when he cannot handle the tools of his trade and art. In fact, he has gone so far as to donate his entire artisans’ shop full of sophisticated tools to a local University when the time comes when his tools will become too dangerous for him to operate.
I know he has always been an artist. In one way or another, he showed this even as a young boy. His first hammer belonged to my father, a carpenter by trade who saw this love of craft in him. After he earned his master’s in art, he did oil, watercolor, and pottery, worked with metals, and eventually found his true art in woodwork. What an interesting and beautiful person he is. And, obviously, deep and thoughtful.
As to the question I asked him, be prepared. I will be asking you!
Sy
