Or, I should say, another meditation on the aging process, because actually, I’ve been meditating on the aging process decades now. In fact, my magazine Crone Chronicles: A Journal of Conscious Aging, which ran for 30 years, began when I was only 46.

THE CRONE CHRONICLES EXPERIMENT

Here’s an essay I wrote in 1996, 30 years ago:

WHAT MATTERS? ON AGEISM, AGING, AND AGELESSNESS

Here’s a very recent experience wherein I couldn’t help but focus in on the aging process; in fact, it took place yesterday evening.

I was fortunate to be able to attend a wonderful dinner and concert of Argentinian music put on by Bloomington’s Lotus Foundation; not here, but in Paoli, about an hour’s drive away. I didn’t want to drive, because at this age, 83, I’ve given up night driving. So was hoping for a ride.

My good friend and former housemate Katarina, who happens to run the Lotus Foundation, picked me up and took me there. Our drive on the way down was hilarious. We hadn’t really talked for years, and so had a lot of catching up to do. At one point she looked over and said, “You don’t look a day over 72,” which made both of us cackle. She went on: “That’s the age you were when I moved in to your place.”

“So how old are you now?”

“38.”

And yes, she is thinking about having a child, while she still can. The aging process catches up with everyone, over and over again; what was possible earlier on, drops off into memory.

When we arrived at the event, I noticed that probably 90% of the people there were oldsters. Mostly elderly couples, who had, I presume, supported Lotus for decades. I sat at what we called “the Bloomington table,” seven people, all of whom, except Katarina, were decidedly old.

What often strikes me when I am around other old people is how different I am from them. How they seem to have stopped growing, but instead are just existing, waiting to die? But is this just my perception? Hard to say; this wasn’t an occasion for deep conversation. However, I did ask the woman to the left of me, if she and her husband, sitting next to her, had children. And when she said no, I asked her why not, did they not want children?

“Well, given my situation,” she gestured to her husband, “he’s such a child himself, I’ve had enough to keep my attention.” Something like that.

I glanced at him; his attitude toward life. And yes, she’s right. He did seem childlike. I noticed her keeping an eagle-eye on him. In fact, at one point, before she said anything to me, I noticed her sharply criticizing something he had done or said. And him just meekly taking it. Interesting.

All the different paths we take in our aging process!

And I’m really in business of noticing, this week, how I instantly judge people, take them for this or that, and often based entirely on their appearance, which includes “how old” I take them to be.

After a few minutes, I did notice some young ones in their 20s trickling in. All in all, there were a total of no more than 75 people altogether, and very much the majority of them old.

Big contrast with the musicians. Several of them had brought their spouses and little children to join the occasion. All six musicians were young or relatively young — under 40. Two of them were married to one another, and the music they made together was extraordinary: him on guitar, her singing. Off to the side, a caregiver was with their standing toddler, who, at times, joined the rhythmic beat of her parents with her whole body. Really fun.

Next to me, were sitting two young men, both asian looking, staring into their cell phones during intermission. I didn’t dare even say hello, so cut off from them did I feel. And not because they were asian, at least I don’t think so. No. Because I was “old,” obviously old.

The isolation that attends the business of growing older is endemic in this country. Luckily I have many age-old, but still youngish friends, like Katarina, whom I’ve known for decades.

At one point another old friend, but still youngish Andy approached me to say hello. Big hugs. Then then introduced me to his mom, going on 83. She has lived with Andy and Kara, for three years now! Then, somehow the one sentence that came out of his mom’s mouth had to do with the Dances of Universal Peace, events which she wishes she could still attend.

Wow! For what do you know, I just happen to be going to a Midwest Dances of Universal Peace event, about three hours away, on the weekend of April 10-12, with a neighbor down the street; so of course I invited her to come along. All Andy has to do is drive her to my house in time to go.

What an amazing coincidence, her need, and my capacity to fill that need, instantly.

But here’s the capstone to my evening with the aging process. Just as the event was winding down, I looked over to see an old man carefully dancing a jig to spontaneous music that had just erupted from one of the musicians.

And then the person standing next to me said:

“He’s 99 years old.”

Wow.