Forget about numbers, and never act your age

By MARY JANE HOLT
Contributing Writer

His name was ... actually, I'm not at liberty to tell you his name. I will tell you, however, that he died last week. In the hospital medical intensive care unit that had become his home. He had been moved back and forth between the medical and surgical units since December of last year.

He had been breathing on his own for several days so the doctor took out his breathing tube. His trachea collapsed and he died within five minutes.

The nurses phoned my friend who had visited him on Sunday before he died on Tuesday. I'm told two other gentleman had visited him occasionally over the past six months.

My friend called his sister. Actually she was not his sister, but he called her that. His mom had died when he was born so his dad gave him to a brother to raise. A brother who already had a boy and girl. These first cousins became his "sister and brother."

The surviving sister/cousin was unable to arrange for services. My friend took care of everything. They buried him near Meigs, Ga., where he was raised. He never lived more than fifty miles from where he was born.He would have been 65 on June 15. My friend, who is 55, says 65 is very young.

I wonder what age it is when we stop aging. I suppose it varies. I know folks that seem to be eternally 16, even 13. Most appear to be forever somewhere between 35 and 45. After that, it's only the skin that ages, as the hair grays, and the body loses time with the earlier rhythms of life.

The heart does not skip a beat, however. Not the real heart. The one that keeps beating beyond the grave. Oh, no, as the body fails, the heart develops a beat all it's own, a beat and a rhythm that defies age.

I know this well.

I have a friend named Trudy who will never be old. No matter what the calendar says, she will never, ever be old. I love the varied rhythms of her life. She is a woman of action, a communicator, a lover of life and a friend.

Certainly my Aunt Maybelle is the most youthful 80-something my family has ever known and my heroine in a thousand ways!

I am reminded just now how prior to last Christmas I had the opportunity to speak to the December meeting of The National Association of Federally Retired Persons. Their festive holiday luncheon at which I spoke was held at Azalea Estates, an exceptionally lovely assisted living home in Fayette County.

The club members were not residents. They are still fiercely independent and though their bodies were many years past the retirement age of 65, their hearts and souls were actively involved with each other, their organization, their community and even beyond. It was a joy to be in their midst.

NARFE is the only association dedicated to protecting the earned retirement benefits of federal employees, retirees and their survivors. Founded by 14 federal workers in 1921, NARFE has become an effective and highly respected legislative voice for federal workers and retirees. Membership has grown to more than 400,000 retirees united to preserve the economic security and well-being of federal employees on the job and in retirement. Check it out at www.narfe.org

You know folks, we have choices to make everyday. And age and all the limitations it insists on bringing with it are no excuse for not living life to the fullest. Regardless of your limitations, be the best you that you can be. Include others in your life. Make new friends. Talk to strangers. Get out of yourself, out of your own home, out of the safety nest you have defined for yourself. Get out and live!

Life is far too short to do anything less.

There are churches, neighborhood clubs and organizations, hospitals and other health care facilities where you can volunteer. There are folks next door that you hardly know. There are strangers in the supermarket checkout lines who would love to talk to you. Try it. Reach out. Reach beyond you.

Grow bigger, braver, bolder with each passing day. Forget numbers and never act your age. Just be the best you that you can be, no matter what your circumstances.