Thinking about old age

When I was 19-years-old, I drove by myself from Seattle to visit my grandparents in Missouri. Somewhere in Montana or Wyoming--in one of those areas where there is only one or two FM stations available--I remember listening to a monologue on the radio that I'll never forget.

An old man was talking about the dread he faced every morning, waking up to realize his mental powers were weakening day by day. Even though I was young at the time, I felt a symphatic horror. I still worry about keeping my brain in good working order. Brains, like the rest of your body, need to work out and stay off junk food. As much as possible, I try to read good books, think deep thoughts, and dwell on how to solve problems. (If only I applied the same rigour to hardening my physique!)

I know that many old folks maintain sharp minds. Perhaps some of it has to do with genetics. Perhaps mental accuteness can be trained for in old age, in the same way there are 70-year-old marathon runners.

Whenever I visit my grandparents, who live in a very small town in rural Missouri, they'll always take me along to visit some old people who are living on their own. I don't know if their concern is solely out of respect for those elders, or if my grandparents are trying to communicate something to me. In any case, intentional or not, I am thinking about my own old age and that of my family. By the way, I wrote this post after reading this guest commentary in the New York Times.

I'll leave you with this, from 1 Timothy 5:8, "If anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for his immediate family, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever."