Unless I live to be over 100 (doubtful), I'm on the back side of middle age. As I look around, I don't like the way it looks. I could get used to it, but the neighborhood is not as nice as I thought it would be and is not likely to say the same.
One of the first things you notice as you near and cross the peak is the physical stuff. Things stop working properly. Rust sets in. There are creaks and groans and squeaks. These evidence a lack of maintenance in most cases, but also are things that happen with high mileage. The human body is also like a mattress, getting heavier with age, and the reality is as gross as the analogy. Once again, poor maintenance is the reason.
The work mechanics do on you at this age changes, too. Doors marked "Exit Only" start to accept two-way traffic, something no man looks forward to. It becomes necessary, or so they say, to probe the dark recesses that were formerly mysterious and off-limits. To neglect these explorations is to allow dark trolls and ogres to dwell there. To rout these unwelcome guests, you have to give up some things you would rather hold on to.
The immortality you believed was yours is taken away. You begin to wonder, not if you will die, but how. Will it be the Big C? Heart attack? Something more exotic? I've always hoped for a plane crash of a specific kind. While I'm driving down the highway, it is my hope that a plane crashes into my car and kills me. Quick, mostly painless, and you don't have that minute or so to contemplate pain while the aluminum tube you're in plummets toward terra firma.
For me, this is all an exercise of curiosity. I'm not afraid of dying. Honestly, I probably dread certain types of death. I'd prefer something quick, but that's because I don't want to be sick and ebb away like the tide going out.
It's all academic though, isn't it? We don't choose unless we're cowards and we force the clock to chime before the hour. Also, there's no guarantee that it happens in due time. Though it's thankfully rare enough, many do die before their time.
Yet the back side of middle age isn't all about contemplating your exit. For some, there are regrets. For others, time is spend wondering what you can do with what remains. Yet others just sit back and watch things unfold. I want to be active and proactive, but gravity often works against me. Sitting and watching is so much easier.
Yet in spite of all the unknowns, I know that I don't want to be one of those pale, fat people that spend their waning years wallowing in hedonism. They fill casinos, cruse ships, tour buses, RV parks, golf courses and foreign cities. They believe they've paid their dues, and it's all about fun now. It's about doing what they want to do. They've created their own modern day equivalent of Timothy Leary's "Turn on. Tune in. Drop out."
I don't know what I'll end up doing with my last decades, but I don't want it to be squandered on consumption alone. I still want to be productive. I want to be available for my kids in their adult years and for their kids, too; not sailing the Seven Seas or camping out at an AYCE buffet, gorging on beef-a-ghetti. All I need to do now is get in better shape, then we'll see what happens.
