Does anyone remember when growing old was gray hair, wise words, wrinkles and a rocker? I rather looked forward to that time. A beautiful Rockwellian picture. Not today! Now we must seek recognition by stopping the clock, fooling Father Time and competing with youngsters and oldsters alike. Here are but a few of our options:
40 years--Surgery to look 20 years again.
50 years--Maybe a Centerfold spread.
60 years--Why not a new career and aerobics?
70 years--The Presidency, or surgery again to look 50 years old.
80 years--Weight lifting or race walking.
90 years--Stand-up comic or parachutist.
100 years--A rocker? No, a rocket into space.
Is it our saturation with TV, those plumped and tightened faces paraded before us day and night? Is our worth really equated with youthful looks? Are we so frightened of old age we must compete until our demise? Bring on that bench in the park, that rocker on the porch--aging is not a dirty word!
PAT (SUSAN) MOORE