The Last Frontier

In my last post I wrote about the singularity of Alaska, or at least of that part of it that Juneau represents.  It’s a land apart, I wrote, and concluded my essay with the observation that it reminded me of old age.  You may view this as strange, since Alaska is a young state and prides itself on being “the last frontier,” the motto that appears on its license plates. 

This is not to say that old age approaches utopia to the extent that Alaska does, but like Alaska, old age is both familiar and strange, a land apart.  My emotions haven’t changed with age, but as an old man I feel outside the social system, unranked, powerless, much as I was viewed in Ethiopia, where doormen at the university would bow deeply to low-level clerks but would remain erect in my presence.   Like a baby, whom strangers feel free to address, I am the recipient of comments from strangers that they would keep to themselves were I twenty years younger, such as “you look great!”  Not that I mind the compliment, but it’s a reminder that I’m old, just as are the frequent offers of a seat on the subway.

Then of course are the physical betrayals.  What could be more familiar to me than by own body?  But it’s become strange, no longer obeying my commands, and protesting when asked to carry out familiar tasks, such as walking up a few flights of stairs.   Wrinkles and sagging flesh have made my body almost unrecognizable to me.  The mirror on the wall has become malign.  

Visits to doctors and testing facilities take increasing amounts of time, changing from an annual physical, when I was in my twenties, to today’s one to three visits per week.  My awareness of mortality is heightened now, pervading my consciousness.  This has the advantage of making me appreciate each day, grateful to see the sun rise, no longer taking it for granted that I when I lie down to sleep, I’ll wake up in the morning.   It has also made me calmer.  I now view with greater serenity the normal contretemps of daily life, problems that used to upset me.  It’s as though I now stand on a mountain top, which give me a wider perspective, reducing the problems of everyday life to relative unimportance.

Alaska prides itself on being the last frontier.   But if ever there was a last frontier, it's old age.