Consumer reviews of Old.

At sixty-three I think of myself as young-old.

Some call this age bracket “the new forty,” but it isn’t. The forties are consumed by striving, climbing, raising kids.

Sixty-three is part of life’s slide into home plate. I’m not down about it—I feel pretty sure that if I take good care of myself I can avoid touching base for quite a while.

But the idea of Old in reference to me is something that takes getting used to.

I’ve been young all my life! Young is who I am!

If there is an amateur phase of Old, I’m in it.

I have to get over thinking of Old as a passing thing, like a virus, something that will respond to some over-the-counter remedy.

How could I be old? Old looks like my bald grandfather wearing a beany in the house because age had chilled him to the marrow. Old hunches over a cane and forgets its own name.

Then I look in the mirror and admit, honey, this is as young as it gets, you are not going back.

Now, I am not falling apart. How do I know? I’ve had all the tests because lately my body has been sending weird signals, signals that have required CT scans with contrast (dye injected into my arm that makes my innards hum), impertinent explorations of my plumbing and pulmonologists staring at ghostly grey pictures of my lungs.

But having been stuck, radiated and turned nearly inside-out, it all adds up to nothing.

I’m fine.

I’m just getting old.

So, while clinging to my amateur status, I’ve been checking out Old.

No matter what AARP says, the customer reviews on Old are very mixed.

Ease of operation scores in the negative column. And it appears that Old requires constant maintenance. Specific complaints include knees that don’t live up to the operational standards for a hinge, the illusion that a chorus of summer insects is singing at all times, a gradual decline in the ability to find a set of keys.

You will, however see a few positive notes:

Says Old in Detroit: “The engine doesn’t rev all the time like it used to which is relaxing, the paint job isn’t great, but I don’t care as much as I did when the vehicle was new, and the slower speed of travel means I get to enjoy the view.”

Says Old in Silicon Valley: “Everything in the world is changing so fast (not to mention getting too small to be operated by aging fingers) but I’m not expected to keep up. Old is the ultimate, ‘The dog ate my homework.’ What a relief!”

So here is my review  (as an old person with amateur status).

I agree with other reviewers that physical comfort takes more work, but I give Old five stars for comfort with the self that lives inside this aging body. Some time on my way to Old I gave up competing, wanting, and comparing (at least mostly).

By the time I am deep-dish Old I hope that domineering self that filled my teen years with angst will have shriveled like the Wicked Witch of the West after Dorothy doused her with water.

With a smaller self, Old allows time for helping, and caring about others. For satisfaction grand-parenting can’t be beat, and if you have no grandchildren swipe some. Old is given a lot of latitude in the behavior department.

Where Young hurries, Old slows down and appreciates.

And one more thing. At sixty-three many of those I love have already tagged home, so I’m curious about that place, home. Although I know the hope is simplistic, I would like to see them all again.

I’ll admit, this part of the journey is a little scary, but weren’t they all?

Scary and thrilling.

That’s life.