The problem is that the term 'elderly' strongly implies weakness and fragility. It is practically synonymous with decrepitude. While this is certainly an accurate assessment for many people, it is not universally true, and especially not applicable among those people in their 60s and 70s who effortlessly engage in the same physical activities they enjoyed when much younger.
There is a certain self-selection process operating in this connection. Most of the people I dived with decades ago are no longer physically able to engage in these kinds of activities, nor do they seem to miss doing so. Their bodies have told them to find other things to do.
These tradionally elderly people become more of an age category majority with each passing year, until those of us who are past 70 and still diving and exploring the bits of wilderness remaining on the planet begin to feel isolated and out of place. There is a great deal of resentment associated with this phenomenon because in our perception we have not changed. The world certainly has changed dramatically, though, and there is a great sense of loss as the world in which we were young vanishes and is replaced by something strange and foreign. Something, in truth, quite ugly at times.
Compounding this sense of loss is the arrogant assumption of the young that the world, once so obviously ours, now belongs to them. They are correct, of course. It does.
Every now and then I'll read, in a novel or an article, a description of someone characterized as elderly. More often than not they are younger than I am. Nothing will change this reality. I'm grateful for the physical ability and mental lucidity I still have. I treasure it because I know it will not last. The shelf-life sell-by dates are startlingly close at hand.
Though the word sounds inappropriate, and though I still feel young, even very young at times, I am technically elderly. There are worse things. Stupidity, for one.
---------- Post added September 10th, 2014 at 12:02 PM ----------
I do have moderately reduced night vision, but nothing extreme. Much of this is due to naturally occurring monovision, and the rest is luck, I guess. In any case, I don't need glasses for any reason. I see an ophthalmologist every year, much younger than me and with much worse vision. He is wryly amused.
There is a certain self-selection process operating in this connection. Most of the people I dived with decades ago are no longer physically able to engage in these kinds of activities, nor do they seem to miss doing so. Their bodies have told them to find other things to do.
These tradionally elderly people become more of an age category majority with each passing year, until those of us who are past 70 and still diving and exploring the bits of wilderness remaining on the planet begin to feel isolated and out of place. There is a great deal of resentment associated with this phenomenon because in our perception we have not changed. The world certainly has changed dramatically, though, and there is a great sense of loss as the world in which we were young vanishes and is replaced by something strange and foreign. Something, in truth, quite ugly at times.
Compounding this sense of loss is the arrogant assumption of the young that the world, once so obviously ours, now belongs to them. They are correct, of course. It does.
Every now and then I'll read, in a novel or an article, a description of someone characterized as elderly. More often than not they are younger than I am. Nothing will change this reality. I'm grateful for the physical ability and mental lucidity I still have. I treasure it because I know it will not last. The shelf-life sell-by dates are startlingly close at hand.
Though the word sounds inappropriate, and though I still feel young, even very young at times, I am technically elderly. There are worse things. Stupidity, for one.
---------- Post added September 10th, 2014 at 12:02 PM ----------
Interestingly enough, at 72 I have close to 20/20 vision uncorrected, and can still read fine print almost as well as I could when i was in my 20s. I don't have any trouble reading gauges while diving or instruction manuals with tiny letters (if I close one eye) when assembling something maddening complex. The syntax in these instructions is another issue.Now you defining the beginning of presbyopia---& as an eye doc, I LOVE IT.....
I do have moderately reduced night vision, but nothing extreme. Much of this is due to naturally occurring monovision, and the rest is luck, I guess. In any case, I don't need glasses for any reason. I see an ophthalmologist every year, much younger than me and with much worse vision. He is wryly amused.
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