Gray-haired and…

Youth and beauty. We are obsessed with it. It seems that every
product is sold to us by the young and beautiful.
Youth and beauty. We are obsessed with it. It seems that every product is sold to us by the young and beautiful. We say it’s shallow and complain about the message it sends, but it has always worked, and it always will.

What is more pervasive than ever, though, is the marketing of youth and beauty as products. The new message seems to be, don’t just drive what the young and beautiful drive, be young and beautiful for only three payments of $29.95. 

Television is awash with infomercials for products that will smooth or clear up your skin, drop your weight, repair or replace your hair, tighten your abs, butt, thighs or anything else that needs tightening. Last week I joked that it wouldn’t be long until we saw an infomercial for penile enlargement like the e-mails I constantly get (how do they know?). This week I saw it. The pretty girls on the show seemed to think it was very important.

The old saying goes, youth is wasted on the young. But I think aging is underrated. 

As I ease further into middle age, I find that I am becoming blissfully immune to youth’s trappings. Being young and beautiful is not only out of reach, it is too much work for little benefit. Striving, yearning, planning, producing. Youth is a lot of anxiety and restless urgings. 

Granted, there is a spirit of expectation and excitement about what is possible when you are young. There is a vitality in setting and reaching for goals in a world where all seems possible. The vitality of youth is seductive. Harley Davidson is making a fortune off middle-aged men who desperately cling to it.

And then there is beauty.  As a young man, it seemed important to be attractive to all women. Now, I only have to worry about one. If gray, thinning hair, a sagging body and a parchment face are OK with Renée, I’m covered.

I like getting older. The sky has never been bluer, the hills never greener and the birdsongs never sweeter. I notice the smell of the rain. I wait for the return of the Golden–crowned Sparrow with its bell-like song each fall. When the Milkmaids bloom, I know spring is near. I notice little things that I would have scoffed at years ago or that were lost in the busy-ness of youth.  

To be fair, everything is right in its own time.  When we’re young, we have the energy and wide eyes to reach out and strive for the prize. But when you’re blazing down the fast lane, life’s subtle pleasures go unnoticed. The golden prize fills your entire field of view.  It’s only later that we realize that the golden prize is sometimes a mirage and often a disappointment. Gee, I’m not invincible, you find out. It turns out you won’t be Chairman of General Motors, or president, or star in the movies. If you’re lucky, your life’s accomplishments will amount to being a good spouse, a good parent and a good person. That’s about it.

The good news is, that’s quite alot. Those of us who never appear in People Magazine live noble and meaningful lives. We make a difference, mostly by raising our children or caring for and loving others. But it isn’t until you get the bumps and scratches from youthful pursuits that you see the nobility and beauty of our humble, below-the-radar lives. 

I suppose youth is wasted on the young. But it is equally true that, rather than being thankful for the broader, deeper understanding that the years have given us, we gray-hairs more often long for lost youth. We should enjoy the gifts our time here has given us. Looking closer. Seeing more. Appreciating more.