I was asked by a friend who lives here for half a year why I loudly and proudly revealed my decrepit old age in one of my columns. Why not? I responded. “Well, you know,” he replied.
Yes I do. Everything we see in movies and on TV celebrates youth and shows old folks as falling-down silly and stupid. Watch some venerable actors in movies such as “Meet the Fockers” or parents in reruns of “Everybody Loves Raymond” and you get my drift.
So I guess his question was: why do I nonchalantly babble my age to shock all the world?
The answer? Because not all the world is desperate to defy the immutable laws of aging. In fact, some of us wallow in them.
After I left Hawai‘i for Seattle, I started to pick up hints that getting old is not something to look forward to. This puzzled me because when I was growing up, it was a laudable goal.
Once when Korean musicians came to Hilo for a concert, I learned that one of them had been named “Intangible Cultural Treasure” in Korea but could not assume the mantle until she turned 50. I was 15 at the time so 50 was far off. Now that I’m way past the half-century mark, 50 is nothing.
But it ain’t the new 30! If I have to again read that 50 is the new 30, I’m canceling my AARP membership! Nope — 50 is 50, 60 is 60, 70 is 70 and so on.
Look, if you’re 60 but think, feel and act 40, that’s fine but you’re still 60. And if you’re 60 but look 80, you’re still 60! So get real. I just had my 77th birthday and I look, feel and act seventy-seven. And it’s OK! In fact, I count my blessings to have made it this far.
Here in Hawai‘i, we honor kupuna with white hair and wrinkly skin. This shows years of experience and hard work. I would like to say that this is why I refused to dye my hair when it started graying but truth be told, I was simply too lazy to spend time and money trying to restore my thatched roof to its original shade of brown. It’s what’s inside that counts, yes?
Actually no because in Seattle, I realized that many connect age to hair color. This is why we see oldsters with hair that doesn’t match their face.
I wish I could say that we tolerate no such nonsense here in Hawai‘i but auwe, it’s difficult to avoid mainland messages. Some decades ago at our favorite drugstore, the cashier ringing up my purchases kept looking at me when finally, she blurted, “Is dat yoah real hair?” On one hand it meant that my unruly gray mop did not match my unpainted face. On the other, what was she thinking — that I dyed my hair white?
And yet, according to the kids, some young people now do. Not just white, but purple, green, blue — whatever color they’re feeling that day. My children tell me I was just ahead of the times back when I let myself go gray in my late 30s. That’s not the only reason I love them.
But Americans weren’t always trying to evade getting old, especially since the alternative is to die young. In the 1870s, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote,
For age is opportunity no less
Than youth itself, though in another dress,
And as the evening twilight fades away
The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.
Mahalo Henry.
Rochelle delaCruz was born in Hilo, graduated from Hilo High School, then left to go to college. After teaching for 30 years in Seattle, Wash., she retired and returned home to Hawaii. She welcomes your comments at rainysideview@gmail.com. Her column appears monthly.
