When Age Limits the Ambitious Mind

Age is tough on the ambitious. The mind wants to do this and that. The body says no. Time says no.

My father made his morning appearance as usual today, a little grumpier than usual. We reviewed the weekly errands, appointments, and tasks, decided our CostCo run would happen Thursday, and reviewed Mom's birthday menu (Saturday is her 89th birthday) of filet, mushrooms, and salad. I reminded Dad that he has a haircut scheduled for tomorrow at 1pm and a retinologist appointment on Thursday.

He sighed.

Then he complained and grumbled that it took him so much longer to get dressed this morning because of the new lotion his dermatologist told him to apply to his thinning, aging skin, and because of the new cortisone foam his GP has recommended for his.....ahem.......area-that-PreparationH-isn't-helping.

Then there was a pause.

Then he said, "You know, we spend so much time going to appointments and to CostCo and hair appointments. And for what reason? What a waste."

He turned and wheeled his way out of my office shaking his head disgustedly. But before he turned the corner into the hall he blurted out one word. One word that I'm still processing. He said, "Terminate."

It's profoundly jarring to hear the man you've always thought of as your personal "John Wayne", one of the original big-gun surfers of Southern California, who was doing backflips into the family swimming pool at age sixty, who built every inch of fencing for our 2 acre quarter horse ranch, who used to play classical piano and classical guitar for hours at a time, whose garage looks like the tool section at True Value, who, even at age 93, is still studying Japanese, wants to learn to play the concertina, wants to sing Italian arias, and wants to read every page of the newspaper so he knows what's going on in the world.

Terminate? Did he really say it?

He did.

And because I am the ambitious apple that doesn't fall far from the tree, I can understand how frustrated my dad must get. Were it not for the limitations of his body--his poor vision, his poor hearing, his crumbling bones and joints--he would still be playing piano and guitar every day, and he would be learning the concertina, and he would be exploring the world around him. But his body simply says no.

Perhaps I'll look for a used concertina...