You Must Be So Jelly

By Bertie Brouhard

Envious, jealous (“jelly”) of us; 80-plus years of age. We’ve arrived. Been selected and inducted into a very prestigious club. If you’re much younger; not having given it (80) much thought but hopeful to arrive one day far into your future or if you’re perhaps closer to 80 and wonder if you’ll crawl across this finish line, this column is for you. Intended for everyone hoping to age.

You, my reader; fellow octogenarians or those more advanced in age may agree with some or all of my observations. You others, maybe younger, may question my findings. I get that.

I’m thrilled to be in my eighth decade and hopefully you have one or more in your circle; a contented individual in your life; a parent, grandparent, sibling, friend or neighbor. At this age I feel a calm, a quiet not present in my younger years. I get less frustrated, think I’m more patient, less irritating and irritable with fewer mountains to climb and live with less noise, destruction and disappointment. The insignificant minor, many tiresome details and bothersome annoyances of my younger years are gone.

My mother was very secretive about her age until she turned 80. Then she proudly told everyone. She passed at 84 and my dad who lived but five months past his 80th wanted to sail and get in a round of golf the day he died. Those who I learn have passed on gain greater notoriety when you’re their age. How long do we each have? Probably fewer days that we expect.

80 is a milestone. For my 60th birthday my friend, Larry washed a large rock, painted it white and then inscribed on it in blue paint my birth date. Eight years my senior he knew benchmarks.

I feel I’ve won – or at least played the game as best I could. There have been mistakes made; errors in judgement, regrets later and certainly failed expectations. Having been knocked down, tossed aside, disappointed, forgotten, rejected at times. I’ve tried to be resilient and positive in my actions and attitude. I was loved, encouraged and had advantages as a child. Some nature and lots of nurture.

I had one grandparent, Grandpa Bill, who lived to 72. One sunny morning during a summer vacation visit to his small Iowa farm town I came into his bedroom to see him knotting his tie and combing his hair. Putting on his suitcoat I asked, “Where are you going all dressed up?” (Like it was for church Sunday morning.)

He replied, “To a funeral.”

I then asked as he put on his felt, brimmed hat, “Who died?”

His answer was, “I don’t know.

To which I muttered, ‘Huh?’

Descending the stairs I heard, “It’s a good place to meet women.”

He died about a month later: in the game so to speak to the very end.

Yes, he’d been for many years a widower. True then as it is now; women live longer than men. Per the CDC stats, the life span in 2024 for our population is 79 years – 76.5 for men and 81.4 for women. It’s a coin flip (52% probability) that a child born today will reach 80. Living in Hawaii with the highest expectancy of a long life is decidedly better than in Mississippi (the lowest.) It’s curious that they reported that wealthy Americans have life expectancy about the same as the poorest Western Europeans; in France, Germany and The Netherlands. They also don’t eat as well as the average European who probably cycles to work. 

As for lifestyle there’s no shortage of information, advice, ideas and recommendations. I recall seeing Davis resident Dave Scott, six-time Ironman World Champion and triathlon expert, in the checkout line at Lucky’s pushing an entire shopping cart full of rice cakes. He’s now 72 and a coach and fitness consultant in Boulder. He too (still on a rice cake diet?) is hoping to be 80.

The suggested strategy for a long life is to not smoke, drink alcohol or do drugs. Eat lots of veggies, little red meat, more water, live somewhere with no pollution and get plenty of sleep. Lose weight. Exercise! Enact this plan early in your life and oh … be careful and choosey in picking your parents. So much advice … so little time remaining.

You may wonder how many are alive today in your generation and others. I and club members Baby Boomers (b. 1946-1964) have 66.6 million people. Those Millennials, the largest group (b.1981-1996) have 73.1 million. The Gen Zers (b. 1997-2012) have 72.2. Those Gen Xers (b. 1965-1980) have 64.4. And those now 80 and beyond to “really old;” The Silent Generation (b. 1928-1945) have 14.6 million and highly touted “The Greatest Generation” (b. 1901-1927) are fewer than 1 million.  The last of us Baby Boomers turns 80 in 2044.

Almost overnight I now find myself typically the oldest person in the room, my neighborhood, usually any sort of social or volunteer setting. I need to be careful of what I do and say. I recall the wise advice of my friend Mary who often asks, “Would you like some input?’

Being polite and respectful the person might reply “Yes.”

But I suppose they’d rather not hear it. I can’t think of anyone who likes being told what, how, why or when to do something. We now “older” with all this experience are anxious to share. But with whom? Only if pressed do I relate any of my hard earned knowledge and presumptive wisdom.

I remember thinking my parents were “out of touch.” Why should I or it now be any different?

Most people my age are to be avoided. We’re often problematic in many ways. Lately I’ve heard from younger people I thought I might engage in conversation some variation of the following: “Gotta run. Have an appointment. Need to make a call. Gotta go to my meeting. Pick up my kid, take the dog out” and my favorite “Start dinner.” Which I know will be carryout.  I’m now resolved to maybe wave and infrequently say “Hi” knowing my reputation is to attempt a conversation that is too long and overly boring; a waste of their precious time.

We oldsters are often thought of as needy, lonely and so “yesterday.” We’re too talkative, self-absorbed, sad, depressing, health-conscious (seeing and hearing loss.) Our complaining, criticizing, state of our finances, family troubles and views of most anything are really those of the uninformed and boring. And we’re so slow to get it. As is our thinking, talking, walking as well as when we’re on the courts, in the pool, on the course, the ride, ball field or the bus, checkout line or that carryout restaurant.

Some may agree with my assessment. My hope is that most won’t. If you’re about my vintage I want you to be revered (Well, at least recognized. Just imagine young people hanging on your every word and marveling at your stories and advice.)

We Boomers will carry on with our pills, doctors’ appointments, sagging, sore body parts, poor hearing and eyesight, thin aging skin, hair and teeth. Nursing our touchy stomachs, aching feet, hands, legs and backs. We’ll check on our tired lungs and heart. Just as 60 was not the new 40 so is 80 not the new 60. I do know that many consider “Old” any age 15 or more years older than they are. We 80-pus know you desiring this lofty goal are “jelly.”

And if just one person having finished reading this picks up their phone and emails, texts, Zooms, FaceTimes or calls for a live chat an “OG” ( “Old Guy or Gal”) I’ll consider my input worthwhile.

But don’t expect me when out to to stop and attempt to engage you in a conversation. I now hear the clock ticking louder. Time is my most valued possession. I may smile and  wave but won’t break my stride as I lumber, amble, stroll, plod while “Out For A Walk.”

— Long a Davis resident and retired from a successful HVAC sales career, I enjoy travel, reading and now finding my writing voice. I value your input so please email me (bertieb1970@gmail.com). Thank you. Bertie.