Steve and I look forward to growing old, because we know for certain how it’s all going to shape up for us. Steve is going to be the grouchy old man on the porch yelling at the neighborhood kids to get off his lawn. And I’m probably going to be the old lady with bright scarves in her hair and smudged lipstick heading off to make some pots in the kiln.
The writing is on the wall. And we’re looking forward to the freedom to being as grouchy and eccentric as we want to be.
Question of the Day: What kind of old person are you going to be?
Apt. 11d 
I’ll be the one whispering “orange juice” into my vodka and calling it a screwdriver. My best friend and I have vowed to be put in the same nursing home. We figure our kids will probably abandon us, but with good reason.
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Sorry to be a downer on such a cheerful little entry, but this is really a question that haunts me. I worry. Because every person related to me by blood, every person involved in raising me, ended up entirely miserable and bitter in their old age. Each in his or her own way, but every single one.
So I want to see myself becoming the tart-tongued professor with long white hair, matching baggy linen outfits, and a beach cabin somewhere exotic to escape to every break (North Queensland? but they just got hammered by a typhoon… again).
But it’s so much easier to imagine ways I could become trapped…
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Special K will be there on the porch with Steve. I’ll be the sweet little old lady with the wicked gleam in her eye, giving hash brownies to the nieces and nephews.
If I don’t die at my desk, only to be discovered the fourth day that I stand students up for office hours.
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I’m afraid that this question is just a little too close to reality for me. But gardening sounds nice.
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I imagine I’ll be just like my Nana: cranky old bitch, still working, doing things my way. I’d embarrass my kids except I raised them not to get embarrassed by other people’s behavior. I want to be like that woman who advertised for sex and had hundreds of men during the next few years.
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Serious downer topic, unless you get OTT humorous about it.
Humor — I’d be the loud, rotund widow who world-travelled until she just couldn’t, then put herself somewhere with a half-dozen cats.
IRL — I used to think Hubs and I would retire to Florida or south Texas or wherever there’s a group restoring WWII aircraft, simply so I wouldn’t have him underfoot and because we both like it warm. We’d be close to a beach, the kids would bring the grandkids at least once a year, we’d visit them ditto, and we’d travel as much as I could drag him to, b/c he’s a little foreign-language-phobic. Idjit asked me didn’t we really need passports? the first time we flew to Hawaii. Two degrees in rocket science does not guarentee sensible, folks.
Then #2-Son happened, and I also took a good long look at #1-Son.
Now IRL, I know there will be no retiring someplace warm; we’ll stay wherever #2-Son ends up, either in a group home or just with us for as long as we are more competent than he is and physically capable of caring for him. Daughter will probably be the only one with grandkids; our only travel will be to see her. #1-Son will be a research physicist somewhere; he’s borderline Aspergers and scary intelligent. I hope either he or Daughter will end up close to where we are to aid the transition for #2-Son when we’re incapable, incompetent, or passed on.
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Emma Jane — I think that whatever you are now, you become more so when you’re old. You aren’t a bitter person now, despite facing major adversities. You aren’t going to be bitter in the future.
Camera — You’ll be surrounded by people you love, even if they aren’t making grandkids or making good eye contact. That’s good stuff. And there will still be plenty of room for a little traveling, loudness, and rotundity.
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Well, if genes are any indicator I’ll be in relatively good shape, with few wrinkles traveling like I do now. A friend recently remarked that my grandmother’s sunny disposition was incredible (despite having experienced a tremendous amount of loss). Bitter and cynical isn’t my gig. I hope I don’t get stuck in a decade, and look as amazing as Gloria Steinem. (Have you seen how great she looks? Not that she’s old, but she’s aging wonderfully.)
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I know it’s a family history thing but I really hope to be with my spouse or if that is not possible to be productive.
Both my grandfathers died in their 40s before I was born, and all my memories of my grandmothers were of women who were in mourning for 40 years. On the bright side my parents are still living, still together, and are leading productive lives.
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as long as female charm never goes out of fashion, i’ll be the one quietly smiling to himself
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Gloria Steinem is 70 – I think that counts as old. She’s a pretty good model for how to be an old woman.
Me, I want to be a sage. And/or the eccentric old woman who lives at the edge of town.
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