Parking a link: the bucket list

Some key quotes:

Writing about his father, he says, after a heart attack a decade ago at age 77,

Once the prototype of a hyperactive Emanuel, suddenly his walking, his talking, his humor got slower. Today he can swim, read the newspaper, needle his kids on the phone, and still live with my mother in their own house. But everything seems sluggish. Although he didn’t die from the heart attack, no one would say he is living a vibrant life. When he discussed it with me, my father said, “I have slowed down tremendously. That is a fact. I no longer make rounds at the hospital or teach.” Despite this, he also said he was happy.

. . .

 But the fact is that by 75, creativity, originality, and productivity are pretty much gone for the vast, vast majority of us.

[With respect to family,]  living as long as possible has drawbacks we often won’t admit to ourselves. I will leave aside the very real and oppressive financial and caregiving burdens that many, if not most, adults in the so-called sandwich generation are now experiencing, caught between the care of children and parents. Our living too long places real emotional weights on our progeny. . . 

 How do we want to be remembered by our children and grandchildren? We wish our children to remember us in our prime. Active, vigorous, engaged, animated, astute, enthusiastic, funny, warm, loving. Not stooped and sluggish, forgetful and repetitive, constantly asking “What did she say?” We want to be remembered as independent, not experienced as burdens.

As you can imagine, I disagree with his approach that, essentially, death is preferable to frailty, and that a life that lacks productivity is unworthy of being lived.  And he got plenty of push-back.

But this weekend, in the Sunday “magazine” section of the Tribune (which is a pale imitation of what it was in the past), there was a reprint of an article originally in the Washington Post over a month ago, “Kicking the Bucket List.”

Getting old is supposed to be fun now. And bucket lists mark just how much fun we’re having. If you’re lucky enough to be able to retire — a big if, given how many people simply can’t afford to stop working — you’re expected to then learn a new language, travel to a wildlife preserve in Kenya, take up Bikram yoga or sharpen your culinary skills. 

. . . 

We seem to think of ourselves as sharks as we get older, afraid that if we stop moving, we’ll die. Or at least get really boring. Reading, gardening, cooking and spending time with friends don’t seem to be demanding enough pursuits to build a golden age around. Every book and article about retirement tells us to find our second career, to learn some new — and really difficult — skill, to find our purpose all over again. 

. . . 

But I don’t think degree of difficulty is a key metric of living a fulfilled life. George Vaillant, a psychiatrist who directed the Harvard Grant Study, a project that followed 268 Harvard grads for 75 years, has a different idea. He says that the key to living a happy, purposeful life comes down to one thing: relationships. “The conclusion of the study, not in a medical but in a psychological sense, is that connection is the whole shooting match,” Vaillant said in a Huffington Post interview last year.

Great little piece, and fits in well with a book I’m reading now, on “unretirement” – that is, the idea of continuing to work well after traditional retirement age — which I’ll report on after I finish it.