It doesn't seem to be a heretical question. Seems like there used to be a lot of them. Places with names like Shady Rest, or Restful Oaks, Seaside Rest, Sailor's Rest. Stuff like that. Of course the problem was that those names quickly became seen as code for "old people's homes." Places where "old people" went to die.
So now we have "retirement communities," and "independent living communities." And forget about the notion of dying. Peruse the websites for these places and you see lithe and tanned folks with perfect teeth dining al fresco around golf courses and pickleball courts, dancing the tango, albeit with obligatory grey hair - actually more silver than grey.
Mind you, I have nothing against staying fit once you pass a few score years. I should put more effort in there. But I think there is a question of degree. My brother-in-law functioned as my father's "trainer" when my father was a resident in one of those "independent-living-graduated-care" facilities called Paradise Park about 5 or ten miles from my sister's home in Barrington. [I can't help thinking of a parking lot outside paradise] Anyhow, he would take Dad to the "gym" and encourage him to use the "reclining bicycle" and other fitness machines. And I have no doubt that routine contributed to Dad making it past his 100th birthday. I'm not sure when he stopped playing golf, apparently he was still whacking the ball around into his mid-90s. Not all that surprising considering the longevity of his siblings - good genes there.
However, pickleball and water calisthenics were still distant gleams in some phys-ed teacher's eye. And I'm not sure that we should be pushing our "super-seniors" like 80, 90 year-olds - to be among those folks we see on the news, running marathons on their 85th birthday, etc. Those folks are exceptional, and don't need much external motivation. Secretly, I think there are some genetic links to the Energizer Bunny at play.
But for the rest of us, there are mental health issues involved - not just physical ones. The problem is that while the mind may retain the muscle memories of one's youth, the body may not retain the actual muscle necessary to make good on the memory.
I have had a couple such issues recently. First, I went to the driving range with a family member up here. He is only a handful of years younger than I, and plays golf quite regularly. So I figured why not. I used to play rather often myself - back in Raleigh. Flirted with a handicap in the mid-teens. Yet embarrassing would be a polite way to describe the outing, unless preparing a flower bed had been the objective. I was the ultimate divot dandy.
The second event was even worse. I grew up around YMCA basketball courts. All through high school I was a "Junior Leader" at one of the local YMCAs. Every Saturday we led gym classes, played pick-up basketball games, stuff like that. Then for one summer I was the "program director" at the "black" YMCA - remember, this was several decades ago. There I got to play basketball with guys who hadn't made their way into high school, but could have played on any team in the city. So for awhile there I "had game," or what would hav e passed as such for most 5' 9ish" white kids in the 1960s. OK, so the other night we were having a family dinner and my buddy from the golfing fiasco was out shooting baskets with his young grandson. I sauntered out to join them. What transpired made my driving range display seem PGA worthy. The point is that my brain was completely confident that I could perform at my middle-age level. The muscle memory was there, the muscles - and to a certain extent the hand-eye coordination - was not.
This is not a call for becoming sedentary once you reach your "golden years." Not at all. But as the ancient Greek poet Hesiod stated: [and dozens of others have since cribbed] "Observe due measure; moderation is best in all things." Which brings me back to the notion of rest homes. Hopefully we spend the lion's share of our life "doing stuff." We have a job, outside or within the house, which pays the bills and allows us to create a meaningful life. But once we retire from that "day-to-day" it might be time to consider devoting more time to resting, thinking, to considering more mindful activities.
As usual I can speak best to my own activities. And here a picture may be worth a thousand words:
It is fitting that my picture of my primary restful, mindful activity shows the place where I make pictures. The picture is actually taken with a couple of computers next to and behind me, which is where I compose these Schrag Walls. And there you have my dominant activities. And yes, I am aware that I have sloughed off on the activities that would allow greater synergy between my muscle memory and my muscles. I will try harder.
But there is infinite value in just sitting outside watching the wind in the trees, and being amazed by how the clouds move in synchrony with the breeze. Listening to the sounds outside, birds, squirrels, even the varying echos of traffic. And attending to those sounds we can capture inside, as we select from the seemingly limitless online options. Visiting the wild and ancient places of the world as they unfold on our various screens. And, of course, making marks on paper and, outside, throwing tennis balls for puppies.
These are restful, mindful activities. And while often readily available to us, in today's youth and fitness obsessed world, they seem neglected, if not actually disparaged, while the contemporary, polished versions of "tote that barge, lift that bale" are lionized.
Hmm. All things in moderation.
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