Getting Old is a Bitch (Even if You’re Famous)

I couldn’t believe what I heard on NPR. Bob Dylan was performing in a big concert up north somewhere. He decided after the concert to go out for a bit of air, so he took a walk. Apparently people don’t go walking at night a lot in whatever city he was visiting. He was stopped by the police. They didn’t believe his story about being Bob Dylan in town for a concert. Either they were too young to remember “Blowin in the Wind” or the guy they saw didn’t look like the frizzy headed young man they had seen pictures of. The pictures of the icon Bob Dylan were taken in his heyday and presumably didn’t bear much resemblance to the bleary eyed old codger they saw walking alone at midnight.

Unfortunately, aging happens to all of us, even the rich and famous. Anyway, the police were not buying his story. He insisted they take him back to the hotel where he was staying so that he could be identified. A couple of the staff identified him. The police apologized. Dylan was a free man. He was free from everything, that is, except aging. It happens to us all. Some transitions are more graceful than others. Take Cher for instance, she is in the same age group as Bob Dylan, but has held up much better. White hair and thousands in plastic surgery look good on her.

I always thought Robert Redford could have aged better. He’s awfully wrinkled. I was amazed to read an un-tabloid article that quoted the doctor who admitted to doing a facelift on Redford when Redford was in his forties. He’s now in his seventies and needs another. I guess even plastic surgery doesn’t hold up to Father Time.

I’m glad I live in rural Southwest Alabama where it’s okay to get old if you don’t mind being called Ma’m by people forty and under. Even if you don’t think you look old, getting called Ma’m will put things in perspective.

One of my favorite stories about aging is by southern writer Florence King. She says that the South reveres its matriarchs. Her famous quote is “as the bosom falls, so does the mask.” What she means is that as southern women age, they become more who they are. As young people in the south are taught, we must be nice to everybody. We must take care to be diplomatic and polite. AS we get to be old people, this is no longer required. We can be free to say what is on our minds.

We no longer have to wear tight clothes or tight shoes just to try to look better. We develop our own look and stick with it, sometimes from our college years to the grave the look never changes. I know a lot of women in the geriatric ward who still tease their hair, even when it gets so thin we can see through it. Funny thing about that though is the younger women are buying hair accessories now called bump to make their hair stand up like ours did when it was teased in the 60s. Why don; they just learn to tease and save the $10.00?

My high school class is having a reunion this weekend. I wonder if we’ll all recognize each other. I wonder who decades later will be chosen the person who has changed the least. I think that would be the boy in our class who died in his 30s. We can post his picture and give it the prize. For the rest of us, we all have gravity issues. The sagging chins, wrinkles, and excess poundage will disqualify the rest of us. We do have one thing going for us. W are still here to enjoy the rest of our lives. As far as I’m concerned these are the Good Ole Days, not the ones mentioned in those nostalgic emails about our leenage years.

I wouldn’t go back to those days for anything, even if I could take my experience with me. My bosom has dropped and I’m taking off the mask. I have a lot to look forward to. Aging may be a bitch, but I get to be one, too.