Dear Mr. President,
When I turned 38, I suffered a nervous breakdown that took the better part of two years to recuperate from. On my 39th birthday, I was taken out to a fancy dinner by my brother, his wife, teenage son, and ten year old daughter. I felt like a high school foreign exchange student, not a grown up woman with her very own large and vibrant life; I felt dependent. Extraneous. Eerily out-of-sync.
But my birthday card from their family (after we set a record for most extravagant meal) was signed by each of the four humans in their family and their beloved dog Lucy. My niece Parker added extra celebratory text beyond what was printed in the card, and on the blank left side of the card’s inside face, she wrote a giant number 39, with an exclamation point at the end, like this:
39!
It was not the sentiment I held about my life at that moment, or hardly any of the moments of that year. My generation and those older than us in my family have been known to speak with tongue-in-cheek sarcasm, and my instincts felt the sting of casual mockery, which I chuckled about, especially coming from its then youngest and kindest member.
I kept that card on my desk and in my sights for a long while. To my niece, I was the centerpiece of that gathering. To my niece, her happiness, her very existence, SWELLED at orchestrating and participating in a whole-hearted celebration of my whatever-the-F-dash-dash-dash- # year ! I had just passed.
Every time I looked at 39! I saw and felt her joy, her innocence, her confidence in her belonging, her tremendous love, and, most of all, her extreme generosity in sharing such untarnished optimism about the gift of my birthday.
Not all of us get to survive to large numbers, sir. I know you understand this reality better than most having lost Beau at 46!, little Naomi at 1!, and Neilia at perhaps 30!. Love is more than the number. Perhaps even more than the exclamation point.
At 39!, I could easily have imagined 38(no exclamation) being my end. My mom was 52! (breast cancer), and I was just 19! Other college friends’ moms were also 52! (suicide and melanoma) although my friends were older, 27! and 29!, at the time of their emancipation. My dad made it to 84! (end stage COPD, then a shoulder fracture, finally done in by the kidney infection as he recuperated from the hip fracture suffered at his long term rehab facility). His dad had been 37! (pneumonia) leaving behind a wife and 5 children in the 30’s. Dad’s mom, 98! Having raised 5 children alone in the Depression.
A young man at an AA meeting once complained that the ladies didn’t care for him because he didn’t make enough money or drive a nice enough car, and a friend of Dad’s quipped, “Where I live, it doesn’t matter WHAT you drive, but IF you drive that’s a big deal. And if you can drive at night, you are GOLDEN!” Which reminded me that AIDS and other STDs were having a surprise heyday in the elderly communities! Because nobody could imagine the LIFE teeming inside those walls - more invisible exclamations! And then Dad reminded everyone present that his long-standing joke during Lent was that every year he gave up the same thing, “Sex and Broccoli,” with his reliable shout out to President George Bush Sr. who publicly disliked broccoli.
Here’s what I say to you, sir: Embrace the Exclamation!
81 ! Mic drop!
You are fortunate to be 81!
With or without broccoli, sex, and/or driving at night.
So what if you go to physical therapy? I spent my 23rd year having surgery on both feet and going to physical therapy 3x/week at Kennedy Brothers in downtown Boston.
So what if you need to be careful on the stairs? Know who should be careful on stairs? EVERYBODY. Also in bathrooms, and in the one mile driving that’s closest to their homes.
In 1996 I studied how the “elderly” were portrayed in the media. Know what? Most of our political world leaders were “elderly” men (at that time anyone over 60). In that context they were not called “elderly,” but rather seasoned, experienced players - the prized centerpieces of global politics.
Apart from ads for hearing aids, meds, and nursing facilities, the elderly (and their lives) were largely absent. News stories often focused on them being harmed, taken advantage of or adding financial burdens to families, communities, and fiscal responsibility, worries that continue to plague older Americans.
You can’t say this, but I will: Americans can be such A**holes! We have a fiscal and HUMAN responsibility to take care of our aging population. As we do our babies, children, and folks with different abilities.
I am 47! and I have spent most of my early twenties and the last ten years in chronic pain. My friends attribute their latest backache or torn Achilles in kickball (my brother, his best friend, and that ND Governor) to aging connective tissue and strong muscles, but AGING is not the injury.
Aging is a constant. It’s happening to my children, right now, at 4 and 6.5. But, like early development, adolescent and middle development, it accumulates in different bodies in very different ways!
Aging is a luxury. It’s a gift. It is a long and short-term trend. It can be an inconvenient pain in the ass. But It is not a stock 10 day road trip that Triple A can give you a map to follow with numbered exits! It shouldn’t be a crime for one man to be aging! Even showing evidence of aging. Particularly one man who has placed a SERIOUSLY QUALIFIED VP in his orbit and her crowd-worthy husband Doug. Aw, Doug. He’s so good at being Doug!
You, Mr. President, and your wife, Dr. Jill Biden are the most highly visible Americans, thank God. You are lifelong vocational professionals and public servants. You are working at the highest level of your fields and reluctant to give it all up early for the casual, knee-jerk speculation of the pundits, reporters, and selective Iowa/Nevada fairgoers.
The repeated appearance of this “valid concern” speaks more to our persistent prejudice, lazy critical reasoning habits, and the media's ability to make its own thin news based on what everyone is talking about. Also, let’s be honest - everyone is probably talking about Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce, or Taylor Swift and her Swifties!
This Lobster Lady in Rockport Maine should be your new best friend! https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/2023/06/21/lobster-lady-maine-virginia-oliver/
Also remember that beautiful older woman (106!) who danced with the Obamas in the oval office?
Hollywood heartthrob Chris Hemsworth explored fears around aging and mortality in the final episode of his series “Limitless” Acceptance. (2022) I’d like to see his # with an ! Go ahead, say it sexy, because the Hemsworths warrant that audacity! It feels inappropriate, but just right.
It’s a pretty good ad campaign for anti-aging bias -just millions of people, holding signs with their #s and an ! You have my permission, but I’d like credit. See videos for “Be My Honeypie” the Weepies and “Humble and Kind” Tim McGraw, lyrics Lori McKenna (who also has great song called People Get Old). Rose Cousins’ song “The Sendoff” is in my head, “Silver and gold, we are young, we are old, and time takes time, takes time, takes time.” She is from Prince Edward Island, if you want to celebrate peaceful alliances with J.Trudeau 51! Raw like so many of us, mourning the loss of Matthew Perry 54!
Nobody wants to be seen as just a number, the color of their skin, their political party, their gender, their job, their education level. We want to be seen as individuals. You are not just a number, Mr. President. You are the exclamation point implied or literally written after it. 81!
You are all the memories you hold and all the memories others hold of you. You are, perhaps, even more than any exclamation point can hold. As are we all, everywhere, the whole world round. God bless your leadership, your love, your laughter, and your faith!
Yours,
Ellen Pollis 48! (almost)
