Personal attitude: Embracing the little things that bring big laughs | Aging In Good Spirits

By Carole Marshall
Posted 1/15/25

The number of articles on aging seems endless. The more I delve into aging info, the more Google thinks I need. My daily news feed is swamped with stuff on managing old. After a while it becomes …

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Personal attitude: Embracing the little things that bring big laughs | Aging In Good Spirits

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The number of articles on aging seems endless. The more I delve into aging info, the more Google thinks I need. My daily news feed is swamped with stuff on managing old. After a while it becomes repetitive, but some of it sticks and the creative wheels turn. That was the case in a recent article I read. It had some good information, but it was a quote from a Stanford University study that got me thinking. “Old age is a dance between biological reality and personal attitude.”

My biological reality knowledge is limited. The 1918 flu epidemic took several relatives at an early age. Through Ancestry, I’ve traced kin who lived well into their 90s and a few who departed young from maladies treatable today. Unfortunately, my parents were not forthcoming with personality components of ancestors. Given this sketchy history, I’m inclined to focus my aging dance on personal attitude. I’m taking this stand one day at a time, because some days are better than others. Most often, though, I’m open to positive, laughable moments that enhance my frame of mind.

The day began with tuna - StarKist chunk light in water. I forked a small portion onto the saucer, nuked it for sixseconds to take the chill out, and placed it down on the floor next to the kibble and water bowls. He arrived promptly, licked the plate clean and proceeded to wash. Henry, who came to me as a frightened feral kitty hiding and hissing for weeks, has slowly made his sweet presence known and the little dude’s menu includes StarKist people tuna. Fancy Feast, Frishies, 9Lives, you name it, had all been rejected. Wanting him to have a little moist food daily, I experimented with my tuna, and Henry was sold. My penchant for over-the-top critter comfort was the day’s first funny.

Next on the agenda was my morning writing group Zoom meeting. We had met in person for years, but the COVID pandemic got us involved with Zoom. We’ve kept it up longer than necessary because it enables folks living farther away to join us. So, this morning I logged in a little early. On my computer screen I could see and enjoy the pictures on my office wall behind me. They were fun photos of past pets. Then I noticed the new sweater I was wearing. The colors were lovely. But the most fun was eyeing myself. Leaning back from the screen the face wrinkles weren’t noticeable, couldn’t detect any eye bags, and no pesky rosacea rash. From a distance, I looked blemish and wrinkle free. A good chuckle followed.

A package arrived soon after the Zoom meeting. I knew the contents and was reminded of the angst that transpired before placing the order. Two weeks ago, sitting at the computer with the item page in front of me, I was happy to see they had the dark blue denim jeans I wanted in regular length. At issue was size. If I was serious about losing some weight, I’d order size 10, otherwise size 12 would be the best fit. I rationalized and agonized for half an hour. Of course, I could lose a few pounds, but did I really want to? Once sick of myself, I placed the order and now I was ready to open my package. I slid out the jeans and slipped them on with ease, no grunting or groaning. What had I been thinking? I’m size 12 and comfortable. The idea of wriggling into a 10 was comical.

Wearing my comfy new jeans, bright red Jersey Boys sweatshirt, faded black ball cap, sunglasses, and worn running shoes, I headed out to the grocery. At the end of the produce department, I was grabbing potatoes when an older gentleman approached. He asked if I could help him select tomatoes, said he preferred a woman’s point of view. I think he was flirting. When I took a close look at him sans sunglasses, it was blatantly obvious he was several years younger than me. Eying my attire, I wondered about dressing more my age. It was the best laugh. Despite our country’s madness, keep up those good aging spirits.

Carole Marshall is a former newspaper columnist and feature writer for American Profile magazine. She’s had stories published in Chicken Soup for the Soul books and has written two novels and one fitness book. cmkstudio2@gmail.com