My granddaughter Rowe is just eighteen months old and she calls me ‘Bumpy’. It’s the best! It makes me feel younger, more lighthearted every time she says it. And that’s a good thing because the fact is I’m barreling down a one way track which if I’m to believe the pessimists among us, has a dead end. What a drag. I’ve never been happier bad knees, relentless peeing and general grumpiness notwithstanding. Never been happier. And now! NOW I’m supposed to be good with it all ending?! I don’t think so.

You had a heart attack

I’ve got two bum knees

We don’t wanna live forever

What the f*&# is TikTok?

Looking back it was all worth it

The truth is getting old sucks, but everybody’s doing it.

from Bowling for Soup ‘Everybody’s Getting Older’

Getting older sucks.

But there’s hope. One of the world’s richest men Bill Gates, ever the optimist, is investing heavily into research on longevity and there have been some promising developments. Well, if you’re a mouse they would be considered promising but I’m thinking it’s hopeful for humans. Scientists have Benjamin Buttoned mice and reversed the ageing process. Nice. Sign me up. So now Bill and others are hucking huge money at the research, hopeful perhaps a big breakthrough will not come too late.

And why not? Even in my lifetime my life expectancy has increased by fifteen years. The trend line from the 1500’s is real and undeniable and I can’t think why it would all of a sudden stop, unless of course we eat ourselves into an early grave or some madman pulls a trigger on a diabolical End of The World weapon. But let’s ignore that for the moment, besides in any event it would make this conversation moot.

Now work with me here. Just suppose you could live until say, one hundred and ten, or one hundred and twenty, in equivalent health. Would you want to? For me the answer is simple: In a New York second. Yes! I’m not quite sure what the downside would be. I’d get to live much longer and I’ve already told you how much I love being alive. I would see my grandchildren graduate, get married, have children; the upside is endless. Now all good things come with a downside and doubtless so would living to one hundred and twenty years but capitalism would thrive and medical science would help us along for the ride. We have plenty of proof already.

Now don’t get me wrong. I am not feeling sorry for myself. When I count my blessings in the currency of relationships, health and fulfillment I am rich. Bill Gates rich. My wife Mac is a nurse and has seen her share of dying so whenever I say something which sounds even vaguely as though I’m feeling sorry for myself she’ll say something like,

“It beats the alternative Tony.”

She doesn’t say it to tell me off. She says it because she knows better. She knows that simply to be alive and even better at my age, to be in good health, is good fortune that many others did not have. And I know that. We have all lost friends and family and have tried to regain our balance from the shock of it all.

I am lucky and I know I am. I have a wonderful life. I have a wonderful wife. Mac and I have forged a lifelong bond of friendship and love. I love my children and my grandchildren and they all know it. And they love me. My bounty is endless. I love being alive. But as the song says ‘getting older sucks’. It’s not the dying thing that I find upsetting although that really does curdle my butter. No, what I can’t come to terms with is just running out of time. I love this being alive gig and if medical science finds a way to extend my life on this continuing trajectory, sign me up.

The reality is everywhere.

Ear hairs, nose hairs, how diabolical is that?

Slim to begin look up and you’re fat

Strong stream up stream no river too much

Weak stream downstream have to get up

Will I ‘expire’ before my drivers licence?

Will I ever need another passport?

Will I see my grandchildren graduate?

Marry? Have children?

Now when I read news stories projecting population growth through 2040 I feel strangely detached. It’s all too weird for words. And I’ve never thought this way before. I’ve done what most Taurus’ do. I put my head down and worked hard. If I ever took a moment to look up it wasn’t to see where I was going it, was to see where the fun was or where I could do more work. I have never been what others might call, a deep thinker. I’ve tried to be from time to time, spelunking around inside my head seeking nuggets of The Truth or Wisdom but never successfully, as you can no doubt see by now. And it’s not for lack of a good role model. I have spent my entire married life with a woman who hikes around inside her head and her heart, sometimes for hours at a time, to the point I often ask,

“Everything okay Mac?”

The question, never mind the interruption, always taking her by surprise.

“Yes, I’m good. I was just thinking about Darlene when we were little girls.”

Darlene for context is one of Mac’s very best lifelong friends but don’t let me get distracted about her, as wonderful as she is. Nope, the fact is I’m no good at this deep thinking thing so I’m left with the desperate hope that somehow I’ll beat the odds and live much, much longer than one can reasonably expect.

Our minds start to go, of that there is proof

{This blog perhaps Exhibit A for the prosecution)

Rhyming couplets once easy, not so much now.

See what I mean? So frustrating!

Hey honey I feel a little bit ill.

Sorry to hear that, take a pill.

The little blue pill on the side table?

No, not that one! You are no longer able.

My poor wife. Just imagine her horror at the prospect of an overly ambitious one hundred and ten year old husband. One supposes skin care products would get a boost.

“Age related wrinkles? Try Botox for your second century. After all you deserve it. BOTOX 100 Plus. It’s What You’ve Been Waiting For.”

Okay, that little sidebar is clear evidence my mind is wandering. This is getting weird. Time to finish.

Look it’s not such a big stretch. I was born seventy-three years ago when life expectancy for my father was around seventy. My life expectancy is eighty-four. Not bad, a nice trend line for sure. But the arithmetic sucks: 84-73=11. By the way the last time I did that arithmetic, the answer was 12. I rest my case.

At this point, I’ll take whatever advances I can get my desperate aging hands on. If it turns out that I grow a tail, start to squeak and have an insatiable appetite for cheese, I’m good with that.