Aging - A Commentary

When you are young, you feel invincible and evergreen. The thought – you will grow old one day like others you see – never crosses your mind. However, time – I am not sure the most powerful adversary or friend – slowly and unbeknown to you does it magic. You begin to show signs of time. Hair turns gray, skin wrinkles, arteries harden, and joints pop. Your eyes don’t see as well and you need a thick pair of lenses – bi-focal, tri-focal whatever works. You remember vividly what happened some three or four decades ago, but can’t remember what happened two minutes ago or where you left your car key. Your neurons in the brain do not make quick connections. You cannot retrieve promptly anything from your memory. You know it’s there. You try to defy odds – color your hair, wear a toupee, use skin care, go to the gym, watch what you eat, do sudoku. You tend to think you are the same person you were some 30 years ago. You still like pretty girls and their smiling faces that bring sunshine, but they think you are too old. Now you are everyone’s uncle or grand-pa. You wonder if the so-called Golden Years are really golden as you pop those pills to control your blood pressure, sugar, cholesterol, arthritis, and so on. You feel lucky if you don’t need a wheel chair, or a pace maker or a cardiac stent or chemotherapy. You tend to attend more funerals reminding you constantly when your number may be called. So, if I were you I would do the things you always wanted to do, but were afraid or did not have the money or the time. Now that time is really in short supply and you have nothing to lose, just do it. When your number is up, you don’t want to leave with a feeling of what you could have or should have.

Home again

Like other expats I too have gotten in the habit of counting down to the departure date as it gets closer. Strong head wind made our non-stop flight from Luanda stop at Atlanta for refueling causing two-hour delay. I still made it home on time on Sunday for family talk (skype). It was Valentine's day. The roses I had ordered through internet while in Luanda had arrived. My wife doesn't say much about these things but I think she was happy with this annual ritual. She got busy and we had a sumptuous dinner (my wife's usual magic) with some family friends.

The view of the back yard golf course is the same, although "green" has been replaced by "brown" by freezing cold of the past few weeks, but my view did not have to be blocked by a small computer screen during my waking hours bringing tears to my eyes. I could see a long way with some birds majestically walking by. Tigger's absence in the house is real and the imprint of his paw hanging on the wall of his little room reminded me of him as I went in and out through the door of the utility room. The house is about the same except for a few appliances that my wife had to replace. Everything has a life - some short, some a little longer. The neighborhood is still the same - quiet and no kids were playing on the street in the cold. No honking, no Saturday night partying by the "Angolans" with loud music and sipping "cerveja". For a few days I don't feel like a castaway and I want to savor this time although I have a long list of things to do including answering to Uncle Sam's tax man before I return. Regardless, I am glad to be home, glad to be back in the USA and glad to be in Houston Texas. Life is good!