Page 9 - Boca ViewPointe - June '24
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June 2024 Viewpointe, Page 9
Finding Meaning In Old Age
By Robert W. Goldfarb planes or cruise ships, I’m not going. Any country I visit person’s journey deeper into old age flow onto the screen.
would unleash an assault of memories, reminding me of the The articles I write are being published and the flood of
As I travel deeper into my nineties, I occasionally look time Muriel and I were there. comments from readers reveals a hunger for company on
back to understand how I got this far and what I must do The path I take on this part of my journey won’t begin in this road we are all travelling. My mind becomes quiet as I
to go further. People who loved me set me on my path and a travel brochure or list of prospective hobbies and volunteer write. The shrill pierce of politics, protest and war becomes
guided my first steps. Later, my progress was determined opportunities. It would begin with a question. Who was the mute. In the silence, I’ve found meaning that is giving me
by others, some of whom barely knew me. A few diagnosed man I had become in nearly one hundred years of life? Was reason to go on.
limitations in me that could have kept me a permanent there purpose and meaning deep within that would inspire
resident of the tenement in which I was growing up. I my journey through the years ahead? When I asked my Bob’s articles have appeared in The New York Times,
remember how troubled my mother was when my first-grade children and grandchildren their thoughts on this question, The San Francisco Chronicle and in Next Avenue, the
teacher told her my failure to raise my hand when I spoke they reminded me of the stories I once wrote for them. One publication of the Public Broadcasting Service. His book,
in class indicated I would struggle with self control for the of my daughters said, “You’ve grappled with loss, loneliness “What’s Stopping Me From Getting Ahead?” was published
rest of my life. The certainty in her voice made it sound that and aging and have experiences to share. Maybe you’ll find by McGraw Hill and is in five languages.
“lacks self control” would be permanently stamped on my meaning in the act of writing.”
application for jobs. I wondered if my journey into old age would be of
Thankfully, most of those I met along the road saw seventies, eighties and beyond. I had written a book on Dear Boca Pointe
interest to the growing number of people entering their
promise in me and offered support and guidance when I
needed it. Teachers passed books to me they thought I should management that was published in five languages by
McGraw-Hill. But, I wrote the book while in the midst of
read. A professional boxer saw my fear of the street-fighters a consulting career, describing only what I was doing in Dog Owners:
who stalked my “Little Italy” neighborhood. He began
taking me on his morning runs and teaching me how to my daily work. Now I would have to write not about what
box. Soon, the toughest of the gang members became my I was doing, but about what I was feeling. Where would We have had a few recent
friends. The G.I. Bill made it possible for a boy from those the words come from? Would my search for meaning be of
streets to find a place in a Columbia University classroom. interest to someone whose life bore little similarity to mine complaints from residents
I grew up in an America rich with possibilities. Men who other than our age? who have had uncomfortable
led companies that stood on a pinnacle reached down and The story of the boy I was long ago and the man I am encounters with dogs
lifted me to a place where opportunity thrived. today can be read in the waning strength and suppleness off leash around
Freud said a fortunate person has two assets, a happy of my body and mind. I used to spring out of chairs; now I the property. We
marriage and fulfilling career. Two weeks off a troopship emerge in stages. Names, words and memories once swift are reaching out
from Korea, I met Muriel whose embrace warmed me for to rush to me now turn their backs. But, things began to to our residents to
nearly 70 years. We had just had our third child when--with change as I sat at my computer and began typing. remind them of our
very little money--she urged me to leave the security of a Arthritis that made it difficult to raise my arms had rules concerning keeping dogs on leashes and
corporate paycheck and pension to start my own consulting not found its way into my fingers. Elusive memories cleaning pet litter. As a resident of Boca Pointe you
firm. The one constant in my work was her endless brought no confusion to the words that began pouring must: Keep your dog on a leash. All dogs must be
confidence and encouragement. I loved my work and was forth. I had suffered a grievous loss, was almost suffocated controlled on a leash by an able-bodied person, at
not unhappy when the last of my clients--often praised in by loneliness and was moving further into old age. But
The Wall Street Journal--insisted “You’re not retiring until almost everyone was enduring their own pain as they aged. all times, whenever the dog is on property. Also, you
I do!” He retired at 82; I was 90. Perhaps my anguish and its slow healing might remind must clean up and properly dispose of pet waste when
But, now I’m a 94-year-old widower on a road I travel them they are not alone, that the pain can be coped with your pet relieves itself. Knowing and abiding by our
alone. No one is judging me or offering their support. I and softened. community’s animal-related ordinances will help
suspect this path doesn’t climb to success or pitch downward I had no advice to offer and resisted accepting it when make our neighborhood a better place for everyone.
to failure. It runs straight ahead, from where I stand now to offered to me. I do not interview scholars about their studies Thank you!
wherever it is the very old go. If going there means boarding of loss, loneliness and aging. I simply let the story of one
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