Dan and I often take long camping trips, mostly in the West. The blue skies and mountains of New Mexico call to us, and we often land in Santa Fe or Albuquerque. On one trip, having been in Santa Fe all day, we were tired and ready to get back to our camper in Albuquerque.
We don’t care for shopping malls, but there was an air-conditioned one handy which would provide a shortcut back to the parking lot. Walking along, we encountered a stylish man and woman sitting on a bench. They approached, asking if we could settle an argument. One said we were married and guessed our age, while the other said we weren’t married and guessed a different age. Could we please settle the dispute? The conversation turned from the dispute to the following sales pitch: “We’d been married so long, we looked younger than we were, but there was a quick fix that would take us back to our youthful days! Would we let them show us?”
What a cleverly laid trap, a short friendship morphing into sales.
One felt a slight obligation to these young people, and as true Southerners not wishing to appear rude, we let them lure us into their shop. Soon they were applying some sort of cream to our faces. A banter accompanied this cream: “There is gold in it, it is a new, amazing formula, we will look young. Of course, we want to be young!” The cream dried, they put us in front of a mirror, and indeed, our wrinkles seemed to have disappeared! For a mere $300 per tiny tin, we could have this amazing cream at our disposal!
Polite to the end, we told them we’d consider it and left.
As we walked to the truck, our faces started itching. Large flakes of the mystery cream began peeling off. Giggling, we chanted The Wizard of Oz Wicked Witch of the West’s words, “I’m melting, I’m melting,” and by the time we’d laughed our way to the truck, our faithful, much-earned laugh lines were back. Soon our parental and spousal worry lines re-appeared, and, covered in flakes of who knows what, we were back to who we were meant to be.
As someone raised by older parents, I grew up around gray hair and wrinkles and while I heartily approve of the progress of life, there are times the mirror isn’t my friend. Fortunately, I have a friend who loves looking in the mirror. Her mirror shows her people she hasn’t seen in years, mostly a much-loved deceased aunt. When I look now, I sometimes catch glimpses of my mother.
The term for this phase of life is Old Age, but that really doesn’t suit. This phase of life is a Wonderful Age. The worries of work are no more. We have lived to rejoice in what our children have become and, if we’re lucky, have a grandchild or two to spoil. Now is a time to embrace what has always been inside: an unexplored interest, a trip, the peace of a long morning, a time of creativity and reflection.
Author and storyteller Garrison Keillor says that at 80 he feels his best work is in front of him. That is possibly true for all of us. My wrinkles, my body and my knowledge are all products of many years here on earth. I wouldn’t be me without them. To misquote singer/songwriter Paul Simon, “Hello wrinkles, my old friends.”
Cindy Arp, teacher/librarian, retired from Knox County Schools. She and husband Dan live in Heiskell. And she goes hiking once a week – even in a forest fire.