Those rebellious boomers of the ’60s are ready for AARP.
As aging movie star Bette Davis once warned, “Old age ain’t no place for sissies.” Amen, sister. Not that I’m anywhere near that “place.” But I can see its dilapidated porch and neglected lawn from here, and I’m not looking forward to arriving.
Most Baby Boomers know what I’m talking about. Not too long ago we were marching for rights, protesting injustice and frolicking during the Summer of Love. And we did it all with unbound energy and unwavering conviction. Our confident young bodies were our armor and our art. It was the Age of Aquarius, and the age was young. We were as invulnerable to time as Superman is to bullets.
So, when did getting out of bed in the morning require a symphony of groans? When did standing up after lunch launch a cacophony of crackling knees? When did a long flight of stairs inspire a resigned sigh? When did our life soundtrack switch from The Who’s “Tommy” to “On Golden Pond?”
Maybe that woeful place Bette was talking about is closer than we thought.
How do you know you’re in the neighborhood? Do you find yourself lingering over ads that discuss joint pain? When you get together with friends your own, age does the conversation quickly turn to how many Advil you regularly take?
Welcome to the Aging of Aquarius.