Meet my good buddy, Dorian. He’s about 60 and has barely reached middle age, if you’re to believe him. Dorian plans to live at least another 60 years, and will tell you that not only is he going to reach his 120th birthday, but will remain active and healthy—pretty much as he is now.
In fairness, I have to say he’s in great shape. He exercises like a hamster on methamphetamine; no doubt he can run faster and farther than I could, even though I’m almost 11 years younger. His arteries are practically free of plaque and calcification—he knows this because he paid to have a virtual angiogram done and proudly informs people that his vessels are like those of a 25-year-old. His eating habits are pure Berkeley: oatmeal, for its fiber; flaxseed and walnuts for their lignin, tomatoes as much for the lycopene as for the pure joy of eating a tomato. He consumes more fresh fruits and vegetables every day than many people eat in a week. Whole grain bread with olive oil. Now and then he enjoys organic chicken breast, skinned, of course. Seafood rarely appears on the menu, and it must be sustainably fished and local. He hasn’t touched butter or cheese in years. Ice cream? Bite your tongue. No added salt. No coffee, but plenty of herbal tea and just occasional red wine (strictly for health reasons.)
The attention he pays to diet and exercise will certainly help him live to ripe old age, barring accidents. Still, I imagine how fun it would be to pop Dorian’s balloon by sharing with him the simple facts about the aging process and how it affects the human body, no matter how healthy.
I could tell him, for example, that his renal function is currently about 30 percent lower than it was when he was 25. Maximum heart rate is 35 fewer beats per minute. His hearing and vision are now less acute: the aging eye reacts more slowly to sudden changes of light, which can be especially dangerous while driving. Lung capacity, liver function and muscle mass are all reduced from when he was in his prime. But I don’t tell him any of these things; there’d be no point other than to annoy him: he’s a man on a mission—to live almost forever—and genetics be damned.
It’s not a uniquely American phenomenon, this quest for youth and health, but as with many things, we always seem to raise the bar a few notches. Think yoga. Remember the aerobics craze. High-powered juicers. (And I still run across those electric yogurt-making machines now and then at garage sales, right next to the rusted stationary bike).
Our worship of youthful energy, new ideas—the latest thing—seems to go hand in hand with our disdain for anything associated with aging. Never mind what “we” think of sagging, wrinkled skin and gray hair. Older people are not usually revered for their wisdom here, and tend to be viewed as more problem than solution. Ask any 58-year-old who’s been laid off how easy it is to find a new job. And as unfair as it sounds, who can blame the employer? Who wouldn’t opt to hire the energetic 30-something worker bee, with his more recent training and up-to-date skills, who will probably do the job faster and for less money?
As Bette Davis said, “old age is not for sissies,” and that holds especially true in the US. With the approaching tsunami of aging boomers, I predict that the once-fierce battle of the sexes will soon become the war of young versus old—and I don’t imagine it will go well for us.
