Jus’ a spoonful of humor

Just a spoonful of humor Loading

When you are ageing, what do you think makes the difference between calling it delectable and depressing? A sense of humor, of course!

And the more irreverent it is, the closer delectable turns to delightful.

Start the fun by refusing to call yourself old. My friends agree totally on this. We are old only when we say so. There is this teeny weeny hiccup I pay as the price for my cheeky assertion. My children and my parents take me at my word. Totally fair, I must admit.

So, I get no allowances for a whole lot of the bumbles and stumbles of my sixties. I picture myself as Marie Tyler Moore executing her iconic hat toss and telling myself, t’is but a small price to pay for the joy of marching to my drumbeat.

Take driving, for example. Much as I miss the zipping and cursing my troubles away at other drivers, humor has liberated me into saying ‘no thanks’ when the wheels beckon me now. All it took was one day of looking at my hands on the wheel, and seeing myself transform into a dangerous villain (with a curled up mustache et al) holding a hurtling weapon of mass destruction. Not to mention, I truly and merrily embrace that blind spot they talk about. I totally get why they named it so!

“Hmph! At your age, I was still driving,” my dad tries to score a point over me. Of course dad, you are amazing, I tell him with deceptive awe. Every now and then I feel sorry that I cannot give my daughters the break they deserve by driving their kids to the various classes. While humor can’t wish it away, I still manage a huge grin when I reach for the Lyft or Uber app on my phone.

I have also made my peace happily with another reality. Three is the maximum limit on any list I can remember. Chances are, I will forget the third or remember it with inaccuracy. And, Mr. Murphy takes sweet revenge for the irreverence I showed him when I was young. He makes sure that the one on the list I forget is the most important. Whatever be the consequences, the picture of my teeniest grandkid writes the happy ending for me. “One, Two, Three…”, she says, and stops triumphantly – as if that is all that matters.

I take my time deciding which is right, and which is left. I unapologetically pant and hold my back after the tenth stair I climb. Numbers do a merry jig in my mind every now and then. I know that passwords and telephone numbers need a real memory card, and certainly not the one I hold in my brain.

But hey, I really haven’t felt younger in all my life. I have a more energetic zest and zing today. I party and have outrageous fun with my wonderful friends. I love to travel and reach out to strangers with no fear or shyness. I binge on books, music and movies. I horse around with my grandkids like a ‘silly billy’ as they call me with love and hugs. I love laughing and sharing passion with the cool young ones – and many of them have promised to let me know when I am no longer the fun ‘aunty’. I still manage to amaze some with my ‘out-of-the-box’ work – it’s a different matter that I don’t see the box at all.

So here’s a toast to the fun and laughter of aging. Jane Fonda calls it the ‘upward ascension of the spirit’ in her positive ‘staircase’ theory of the third act. Twenty years, it won’t be so funny, chides my boring and sulking prisoner. Don’t be so sure, counters my blithe spirit. I will still have my smile long after I lose my teeth.




As an individual, I love life, friends, books, music, movies, travel, meeting people. I believe that one is only as old as one feels, and that one can find at least one redeeming feature even in the person one dislikes intensely. I love expressing myself through writing and have authored two books. As a professional, I have, after a 25+ year corporate stint in people management, taken a shot at being an independent writer and HR consultant.

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