Today I have achieved the age of 72. I am not old, though I do make an occasional joke about geezerdom.
Last week at my regular appointment with my primary care physician, on whom I have a geezerly crush, I was asked if I had fallen in the past six months. I thought of replying, “Only in love with you, my dear,” but I bit my tongue and said merely, “No” as the question required. Later, as I was leaving she flashed me a big grin and averred, “Isn’t it good to get a clean bill of health?” which I interpreted as assurance that I am almost as good as new, youthful ardor and all.
But yesterday things turned somber. I renewed my driver’s license, since the old one expired today, and was allowed to renew for three years only, because of my advanced age. In addition—I was asked if I wished to become an organ donor. “No,” I said; thinking I’m not quite ready to parcel out my nearly new body parts yet. The young woman behind the counter smiled as she purred, “No problem.”
Now, I am in favor of organ donation. Upon reflection I think I should have answered, “Yes.” It was just that the question surprised me. I was still in a self-congratulatory mood having been given a clean bill of health. And not only that, I had just won a battle with city refuse collectors over a dumpster that had been blocking my garage door. So it’s a good thing the bountiful State of Missouri allows me to correct my error in three rather than the seven years’ licensure available to those under 70. Still, I have other, more disturbing thoughts.
Should I interpret the experience of renewing my driver’s license as placing subtle pressure upon me to get it over with and kick the bucket, cash in my chips, pass on to a better place (without, of course, my corneas, liver, and lights)? Does the redneck state of Missouri wish me dead—so as to be rid of my liberal, medicare-consuming ass? Is my driver’s license in reality a death license? Does President Obama have designs on my body parts?
—these questions boggle the mind.
Happy Birthday, Dr. Long!
Thanks, Jessica.
Julian,
Nice piece. Maybe you need to adopt one of those ‘old’ saws about ‘old’ being equal to your age + 15, or ‘old’ being a state of mind… I believe you were out carousing with friends last night. So the question becomes, How did you get there? By Oldsmobile?
Nay.
Happy Birthday!
Cheers, Liz
PS: By this standard, you’re not even on the same planet as ‘old’: “Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.” Samuel Ullman
Thanks, fellow carouser. I did once own a 1953 Oldsmobile–in fact I may have lost my virginity in that car; can’t remember, it’s been so long.
I like the thought that we grow old by deserting our ideals. Thanks for the Ullman quote.
And thanks especially for the Qiu Xiaolong poems.
Never too young or old to make suddenly useless body parts avail to those who can use them.
I renewed my license recently and didn’t notice the expiration date so went and checked. I’m 74 and the state of Texas gave me six years on mine.
I agree, Sharon. As I said in an earlier post, “Parts is parts.” I was making a joke at my expense and maybe a few others’ as well. But I was surprised by the question about being an organ donor, though I shouldn’t have been.
Sammy Jo, I’m not opposed to having to renew my license in three years, especially since I recently learned from my ophthalmologist that she recommends cataract surgery for folks like me when the cataracts get bad enough that one can’t pass the driver’s test.