“All you need is faith, trust and a little bit of pixie dust.” – Peter Pan
I wonder if you know someone who gets younger over time instead of older? Or perhaps, someone who seemingly stops aging altogether? That’s my dad. It’s finally happened. He’s discovered the fountain of youth (or at least the geezer freezer). DooDaddy remains eternally young at heart, regardless of his physical condition. And the lighter his mood, the better he feels. Laughter does a body good. And choosing happy, despite your circumstances, is better than any prescription opiate.
What I’ve come to understand, through the care and feeding of old people, is that Old Age is a state of mind.
My son was born an old soul and has been 30 since he was 8 years old. He lost his innocence in the way that only children of divorce can do. Abruptly. Without warning. But with a stiff upper lip worthy of Gmamma. Childhood interrupted but not ruined. Because children are resilient, and life goes on. The new becomes normal.
The same is true of Old Age. It sneaks up on you and taps you on the shoulder, maybe even shoves down the basement steps, breaking a few ribs in the process. Next thing you know, you’re a widower on a walker in the Old Folks’ Home. Cardigan sweater. Metamucil. Reading glasses perched on the furthermost tip of your nose as you doze in your latte leather recliner. You wake up with a start and marvel at the warp speed passage of time and how it all led to here. Your whole world has shrunk to the size of four walls. The smallness is either suffocating and claustrophobic, or it’s cozy and comforting – your choice.
And if you choose wisely, the magic happens. Peter Pan stuff. Your inner child awakens and stretches his lithe limbs and looks at things with fresh eyes. The cataracts fall away like proverbial scales. There’s an unmistakable twinkle in your eye, despite the fistful of wrinkles on your face.
So DooDaddy has stopped aging. I’ve noticed it recently. He’s got his mojo back.
After Gmamma died, he lost his way for awhile. He simply wasn’t himself. And while the mere mention of her name can bring him to tears, he’s no longer in free fall. He lives with his grief, but it hasn’t destroyed him. My mother is still with him, a companionable angel on his shoulder. Of course, it’s not the same, but he has adjusted to the After. The new has become normal.
Yesterday, DooDaddy was spinning stories and sipping his “vodka rocks” as we celebrated Thanksgiving. It was just Mac, my father and me. A merry band of three. But that’s audience enough for an accomplished raconteur. We heard about The Doo’s transition from Jack Daniels to vodka and traced his alcohol preferences all the way back to a pitcher of gin gimlets at an engagement party.
“I hadn’t eaten lunch, and I got to where I could barely stand up, so Bea Wright Jones – Jennie D. never trusted Bea Wright Jones – wanted to put me to bed in her upstairs bedroom, but your mother wasn’t having any of that.”
We talked politics as usual. Mac brought The Doo up to speed on the net neutrality issue. We all agreed that people should be able to see what they want on the internet and to use the services they prefer. We sometimes find common ground across three generations of political perspectives.
We’re for less government. Human rights. Privacy. Free speech. Stiff drinks. Live and let live. Death with dignity.
We discussed race relations, and DooDaddy recalled working at Kennington’s Department Store as a college student in Jackson, Mississippi in the 1950s, when African American customers weren’t allowed to try on clothes in the dressing room, or return them if they tried them on at home.
“I grew up in Middle Tennessee, and we didn’t treat people like that. But Mississippi was a whole ‘nuther story. I felt terrible for those customers, and I am embarrassed about it to this day.”
Our conversation meandered here and there, but DooDaddy never lost the thread. And the more he talked, the younger he became. Not in a creepy Benjamin Button kind of way. He just morphed into the best version of himself. Ageless. Timeless. Connected and fully present in a way that transcends the years. Classic DooDaddy.
And so, if you find yourself or someone you love, feeling old, pour two fingers of vodka in a short glass with lots of ice and just a splash of water and a twist of lime. Sip slowly and let the ice melt as you warm to your favorite topic of conversation. Then talk and drink and laugh till you’re feeling no pain, no age, no infirmity. Just a warm glow and a light heart.
And when the buzz is gone, choose happy.
DooDaddy, Mac and me
Fantastic! I agree wholeheartedly! Doodaddy is Peter Pan!
Love,
Kee
Peter Pan with a goatee 😉
I had two sons at once, and one of them has been an old soul since he was about 6. I love spending time with him; just talking and listening. He has taught me more than I ever dreamed I could learn from my child. Even on grieving. His take: Everybody dies, Mom. This as I was crying over the death of a friend of HIS, so young to be gone. But he already had put it in perspective. Old souls move on. Like they’ve been here before and are just in it for the fun this time. They love easily, laugh easily, and make the rest of us feel like worry-warts.
That’s a nice way of putting it. Can’t hold on to them. Have to let the old souls go. Be grateful for their presence while it lasts. Letting go of children and parents at the same time is unsettling. Like feeling the ground beneath your feet give way and having nothing to hold on to. No little hand to pull up and no grown-up hand to grab.
Love The Doo. Classy, smart, warm, humorous, but—most importantly—kind.
So true, Valeta. He is a truly kind person. Might have ruined me growing up, because I am still so unprepared when people are intentionally unkind. My father is guileless, has no agenda and wishes only the best for everyone he meets. I think I took this for granted as being what grown ups do, instead of realizing it’s a rare and wondrous gift.
Wow! — and what a beautifully handsome trio y’all make 🙂
Thanks, Oreo. Hope you and your lovely little family had a wonderful Thanksgiving! XXOOO
Happy Thanksgiving, dear one!
Same to you, my friend. Let’s meet soon for coffee and thumbprint cookies, yes?
This works with my Dad whenever we are together with him, just enjoying life and good conversation the only difference is his choice is Irish whiskey!
I think our geezers are kindred spirits — the key to eternal youth is loving other people. Both our dads are good at that.
Thank you, dear Laura. Love your message of choice … we forget, too often, that we have the power to choose our thoughts. Thanks for the reminder. Happy Thanksgiving season to you and your sweet family!
Same to you, Susan – sending love and prayers for your dear kitteh! XXOOO
Laura,
You’ve done it again! Thanks for sharing your literary talents and, of course, your marvelous family. You are so right – happy or discontented, it’s a choice. Hugs to all!
Hugs to you too, Jerry. From DooDaddy and me 😉 XXOOO
Oh, Laura, what a beautiful and powerful story and message! And so true of your father! I would be pulling my hair out over some real estate problem, and your father was always so calm and felt that it would all work out in the end, whatever way it was supposed to? Great perspective that helped me for many years working alongside him!
Thank you for sharing this true side of your father, and the other person like him is my precious husband–always kind, no matter what!
Love to the three of you,
Diana
Diana, thank you for your kind words. Bobby and DooDaddy are, indeed, kindred spirits and soothing souls. Also both deeply devoted to their beautiful, blonde wives. XXOOO
Wonderful story and beautiful picture. Thanks for sharing your wisdom.
Thanks for supporting Geezer Stories, Patti – stay tuned for the book coming soon 😉