The Aging of Paul McInerny

Recently, The Red Room, an on line site for writers, asked its members to submit stories regarding aging. Specifically, they were looking for anecdote’s that enlighten their audience to the benefits of growing old(er). I thought of putting pen to paper, but all I could conjure up was the fact I was becoming more and more familiar with my anatomy and doctors who specialize in its particular abnormality.

Face Book can be a brutal reminder of the aging process. While I have an internal memory drive of how I feel and therefore how I should look, recent family photos had me scratching my head trying to figure out who the gray (white?) haired gentleman was in the photographs. I realize, of course, that the ancient one is me. I even startle myself at times when I gaze into the early morning mirror after climbing out of bed with the cracks and cringles of dormant muscle and bones.

Climbing out of bed? Even the act of arising from slumber has been amended from the energetic “jumping” out of bed to the arduous descriptive phrase of “climbing” out of bed. Now that I reflect on the specific act of removing myself from a prone position of comfort, it is indeed a grueling task requiring nearly as much energy as it takes for me to arise from a squatting position. Never mind what I was squatting for. Just take my word that stretching my entire body to a vertical position requires a surprising amount of effort.

As my cousin, Paul Michael and I (sorry Paul, but I am not going down alone) approach the magical age of 60, I am reminded of the words sometimes attributed to George Carlin regarding aging:

"Whoa! Put on the brakes, it's all slipping away. Before you know it, you REACH 50 . . . and your dreams are gone.
But wait!!! You MAKE it to 60. You didn't think you would!
So you BECOME 21, TURN 30, PUSH 40, REACH 50 and MAKE it to 60."

Hmmm…”make it” to 60? For now, I think I will stick with “approaching” 60. It sounds far less ominous, don’t you think?

So what are the benefits of aging? I gave this a great deal of consideration and one word that keeps hammering away in my deteriorating cranium: memories. I have many fond memories of my youth.

In my younger life, I listened to some pretty amazing and diverse music. My generation had the benefit of introducing the world to the Beatles, Rolling Stones, The Kinks, Eric Clapton, The Temptations, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, the Righteous Brothers, The Association, The Beach Boys, Sonny and Cher. Let us not forget the folk singers who inspired us for social change and equality such as Joan Baez, Peter, Paul & Mary, Pete Seeger, Bob Dylan and even Dick and Tommy Smothers. And who could ever forget the societal benefits of Tiny Tim. Ok, forget Tiny Tim. Most of the world already has.

After the army, I returned to Minnesota to perform in a band and even wrote an album of what Fingers Fox dubbed, “Sappy love songs.” Music was a tremendous part of my life and writing songs provided me a venting process for an often broken heart.

Aging has a way of reminding me of all that was good in life. My time growing up in Minneapolis and then Richfield, Minnesota was absolutely wonderful. My recollection is that I spent my summers mostly shoeless, preferring to run around barefoot and feeling the green grass between my toes, tempered by the occasional “sticker” that would penetrate my skin. Going in was painful enough, but pulling out a “sticker” was far worse.

There were countless summer picnics and gatherings at Minnehaha Falls where kids could roam the former stomping grounds of such notable figures as Minnehaha and Hiawatha, the Romero and Juliet of the American Indian culture. I remember on one outing, brother Roger and I saw TV personality Mel Jass (the movies are great on TCN”) hosting an event at Minnehaha Falls.

Speaking of TV, it was much different back then. Programs went off the air at midnight to the National Anthem; one had to actually get up and manually turn the TV on and off, change the channel or adjust the volume and there were only 7 stations or channels to choose from. Rabbit ears were a must. We watched the programs in black and white and enjoyed Casey Jones and Round House Rodney, Vivian Vulture, and good ol’ Axel’s Tree House.

I remember my first car with a great deal of fondness. It was a 1963 Chevy Corvair. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was a graduation gift from my wonderful parents for making it through high school. It served its purpose with distinction until I sold it a few months later when I enlisted in the army.

These personal memories are a product of an exceptional home life provided by my parents. They created atmosphere where the home was the safe haven. Dad was/is the one man in the world I most admire and wish I could emulate. Mom was/is the person who would always listen to what I had to say. While my parents have vehemently disagreed with some of the choices I have made in life, their love has been unfaltering, even in the most turbulent of times.

An integral part of my life has been my brothers and sisters. From our early childhood together to our separate adult lives, my siblings have stood shoulder to shoulder with me through personal difficulties, providing words of encouragement and support. We have grown (aged) together, despite the fact we are scattered throughout the United States.

Finally, my children have given me immense pleasure and joy. Although they are all adults now, I have so many fond memories of happy times together. My memories of Christmas with Brian, Jenna and Meghan will sustain me even in my darkest hour. As a young boy, Brian always wanted us to get the largest tree. To this day, Christmas at Brian's house will display the largest tree that will fit in the living room. Each day that I live, I enjoy the creation of new and wonderful memories with my children and grandchildren.

If you are reading this and have no idea or recollection of some of the names that I have mentioned – not to worry. You will have your own memories of times that you’ll share with your own names, categories, events and places. My point was to simply present the concept of memories as a positive element of aging. Remembering all that was good and simple during your time here on earth. Let go, if you can, that which has left its ugly mark in your life.

Now if you will excuse me, I must prepare to have my gall bladder removed. As I mentioned at the beginning of this piece, I have become more intimately familiar with my anatomy and the accompanying specialized doctors and surgeons.

Final word: On a recent return flight from Tennessee, I was sitting with another gentleman and woman. The woman asked me what I did for a living and I told her I was retired. She turned to the other gentleman and asked what he did for a living and he replied, “I’m a Naval Surgeon.” She turned to me and said, “Oh my. The doctors are really specialized, aren’t they?”

Make your own memories. Enjoy life.