We’ve recently traveled a bit by cruise ship, another concession to waning vim and vigor, and to sore knees and hips. Cruise ships are like aquariums of aging, complete with a clear blue water setting. Every variety of aging human fauna is on full display floating in these generously windowed hostels. Like aquariums, cruise ships have activity toys for their occupants, brightly colored décor, and timely feeding schedules. While we’re still quite mobile, some of the others among our fellow travelers make their way around the decks with canes and walkers, a few even in wheelchairs.
At home, we’re blessed with young and joyfully noisy grandchildren, but we chose a trip which doesn’t invite young families with kids; the quiet feels nice for a short respite at this stage in our lives. There are honeymooners and middle age varieties also along for the journey, but they all seem a bit out of place amidst the mostly gray, too-often pot-bellied grandparents aboard. The mixture of young and old in our metaphorical aquarium gives a snapshot of what’s been and what’s to become.
Lectures about healthy lifestyles, conscientious diets, and finances in retirement are interspersed with entertainment to the music of similarly-aging celebrities of our younger days – Barry Manilow, Dolly Parton, Glen Campbell, Billy Joel – performed by talented twenty-somethings, as the heads in the audience bop to the beats of their past. There are a few on board who have had cosmetic “work” to slow the appearance of age, even more who have colored their hair and over-applied their makeup. But it can’t all be camouflaged. We still look undeniably dated in our comfortable walking shoes and below-the-knees cargo shorts. Most of us are “aging gracefully,” still aware enough to avoid black socks and sneakers.
I guess we’re now part of the stereotypical cruise ship demographic, in our modest “staterooms” with an ocean view, thankfully not yet in assisted living or nursing homes, seeing corners of the world in the best way we now can.
