“In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.” – Abe Lincoln
Growing up, our neighbors had a small black dog they kept outside chained to a tree day and night. At first, the young pup didn’t seem to mind its confinement. It would bark at anything that moved, chase anything that came within 30 feet of it, and routinely escape and roam the neighborhood. Every single time its owners came home, it would wag its tail excitedly, almost jumping off its chain just for a split second pat on the head. It was literally beaming with life.
In a situation as dreary as his with an end nowhere in sight, I didn’t understand how it was possible. Where did his happiness come from? Was it was an overabundance of youthful energy that drowned out the monotonous captivity? Or was it an unwavering hope that things would change that created a false mirage? Or was it a deep, innocent love for its owner that blinded him of his reality? Who knows. It was apparent though that the chain, the imprisonment, and even the neglect could not squelch its passion for life – the magic of youth.
Over the years though, as the pup grew older, things began to change. You could literally almost see the life evaporate from it. It didn’t bark near as much, chased even less, and its pure, almost uncontainable joy when it saw its owners had all but dissipated. The reality of the situation had finally won. The chain had become too heavy, the imprisonment too confining, and the neglect too burdensome to find any happiness in its life. Old age had set in, and with it either came wisdom, exhaustion, disdain, or combination of all 3 that cleared the fog and unveiled an entirely new outlook on life. Although it had died many, many years later, it had been dead long before it reached its grave.
Like a scene straight from the pages of To Kill a Mockingbird, that dog taught me one of the greatest life lessons of my childhood… Life should not be valued based on its quantity. Much like friends, it should be measured by its quality. When the quality declines, the quantity no longer matters.
Just ask Pat Obertino. At 70 years young, she embodies everything aging should be. While most her age are flipping channels on the television, she’s flipping tractor tires. While most her age are struggling to get up from the recliner, she’s deadlifting 100lbs. While most her age won’t even ride a bike for fear of falling, she’s sprinting on the spin bikes. While most her age can’t even fathom pushing a wheelbarrow, she’s pushing 150lbs on the sled. While most her age are filling out their appointment books with doctor and pharmacy visits, she’s scheduling her workouts and planning her outdoor garden. And she does all of that with a bounce in her step, something that most her age lost many, many years ago.
She looks, feels, thinks, and moves like a woman half her age. She’s found the fountain of youth, and it has nothing to do with mystical water and everything to do with moving, laughing, thinking, and constantly challenging herself. She has “aged” gracefully because she’s never stopped living. As Mark Twain said, “Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”
She’s a testament that aging shouldn’t be depressing. It shouldn’t keep us up at night with irrational worries about hip fractures, wrinkles, and gray hair. It should be beautiful. It’s a time when we should be watching the seeds that we planted long, long ago grow and prosper. All of those years of hard work, dedication, and sacrifice should be blooming all at once, and all we have to do now is smile and enjoy it. Yes, we may move a little slower, have less energy, and have a little more pain than we did 20 years ago, but those are the consequences of living. Those are scars from years and years of chasing our kids around the house, helping neighbors with weekend projects, and staying up late laughing with friends and family. Those are beautiful memories that don’t have an expiration date, nor an age limit…..
So, you are either dying or you are living… I think we know Pat’s answer. What’s yours?
