The Change of Life

What happens to the promise of youth fades into memory? A few weeks ago my uncle faced a startling realization; he would never be the same person he was in his younger days. Let me start off by saying that he is almost 80 years old. He isn’t exactly a spring chicken anymore. But until about 2 years ago, he was fiercely independent. He was never married, which is probably the reason he was able to maintain a stable level of health for so long, never smoked, and never drank. One of his only vices is women. He loves women and said one of the reasons he could never marry is because he could never be satisfied with just one woman. The other reasons is that 1. He doesn’t like being told what to do and 2. All he really cared about was what he could get out of his women sexually. He is a self-professed man-whore and prided himself on his Wilt Chamberlinesque number of conquests.
When I was growing up, I idolized my uncle. He had a lot of the same characteristics I wanted. He was extremely intelligent (mastering the German language and playing master level chess/checkers), athletic, and he went to the University of Illinois (which played a VERY large part in my decision to attend said institution). He encouraged two of my passions: sports and film. We went to both very often. I can’t count how many times he would take me to the Esquire theater or the Galleria theater in St. Louis, MO. We went to many football games together as well. When I was able to take him, we would go see U of I play. He also would come see me play football when I was in high school. He seemed to take such pride in seeing me play. It always gave me a sense of accomplishment to know I pleased him.
His advice was always something I treasured growing up. As I got older, I realized that the legitimacy of it was not as I had imagined. Some things he said were true. Things like, “Winning is the only thing that counts in sports; a good loser is still a loser.” “Never compromise yourself for anyone, including me. You got one life to live and you have to live it YOUR way.” “I don’t care how good looking a woman is, sex gets old if you don’t like her……………TRUST me. You can be with her in the bedroom and it feels like you are putting your penis in a water basin.” Some things ended up not being as true as I had believed. “Women go to college to get married. Duane, don’t get trapped by the vagina!” “You can’t have a good time when you are drinking liquor.” “I never met a honkey I could ever really trust.” His combination of Midwestern machismo and old-fashioned Black militantism/social uplift was always entertaining if not informative. Was he rude at times? Most definitely. His voice could carry very far, after decades of honing his skills teaching mathematics. That volume coupled with a lack of the social filters that restrict us from the most basic reactions to the human condition made for some interesting encounters with the rest of the general public that found my uncles outbursts to be both insensitive and hilariously accurate for the most part.
My uncle despises weakness. He always felt that life was meant to be lived. He never wanted to be hospitalized or “taken care of”. That is why he tried to be as health conscious as he could. He never saw a doctor until he was about 60 years old. He felt that they were not necessary and that most ailments he could deal with or just ignore. This sense of pride is what hurts him most now.
When my uncle was diagnosed with glaucoma, he was mentally devastated. In the past 4 years he has had 14 surgeries on his eyes(7 on the left and 7 on the right). Because of this condition he cannot drive his car anymore, and because he could not drive himself he had to trust someone to drive him. He hated to see his right to drive taken from him. It was the first sign that his blind coat of invincibility was not as thorough as he had believed. He could be hurt and he is very much mortal. Because he could not drive, he because depressed, and because of his depression he did not want to eat any more. This change lead to a plethora of ailments that our family could not have foreseen.
Personally, it was devastating to see the man who I saw as a pillar of strength reduced to a frail old man. It was even more hurtful to see the aftershocks of his reaction to his condition. His depression over his eyesight has leered its way to his appetite and his attitude. My uncle was never Mr. Rogers but his frankness was always presented in a comical way. When I see him now, he looks like a man without a country. It saddens me to see him acquiesce to a defeatist attitude when he would never conform to anyone or anybody beforehand.
I wish I could help him and give him the younger body he longs for; the strength to live in a way that holds him accountable to no one. I wish he could still play tennis like he wanted and drive himself to Champaign for football on October weekends. I wish I could give him part of my strength so that maybe he might feel more like a man. It always seems that life is revolved around loss. We lose our youth, our innocence, our strength, our memory, our friends, our health, and our family. It is depressing if you think about it. We are born to die. That is all my uncle thinks about now; the inevitability of his demise. He says he has lived a full life and has no regrets but he still has a look of fear and doubt whenever he looks in the mirror and sees an old man looking back at him.
I guess the question is how do people combat the fact that they must adjust to the cruel change that is old age? I suppose that we must do the absolute best we can with whatever talents God has bestowed upon us. Some people have the Ferris Bueller philosophy in regards to living and believe that life should not be taken seriously. I always thought that is a bullshit juvenile train of thought. Of course life should be taken seriously! It is your life; your sole opportunity to make your impact on this planet and its people. There is a time and a place for fun and games but I know I want my time on this planet to be significant. We will eventually get old, but I think we must try to maintain a sense of grace that seems to escape us as we began to change. Our bodies will betray us but the general mental aesthetic of ourselves can remain intact if we try. Getting older isn’t a sign of weakness, it is a sign of life and the ability to endure. It definitely is a better choice than the alternative.