I took my mother-in-law to Madame Tussaud’s
Chamber of Horrors and one of the attendants said,
“Keep her moving, sir, we’re stock-taking.”
LES DAWSON
Men past forty
Get up nights,
Look out at city lights
And wonder
Where they made the wrong turn
And why life is so long.
ED SISSMAN
In my thirties I was an unbeliever regarding the Midlife Crisis. In my forties, I flew through various stages in rapid succession: skeptic, agnostic, and the one at which I have now arrived—convert. Nothing about my childhood prepared me for getting older. For one thing, I thought my schoolteachers would kill me. I was thirteen when I realized my name wasn’t Smarten Up. But somehow those frazzled teachers restrained themselves and here I am, waking up each morning gazing into the mirror at a middle-aged balding guy who looks exactly like my dad, and thinking to myself, You have two options: Shave and keep moving, or break the mirror.
A friend of mine says you officially enter middle age when your age starts to show around your middle. Another reassuring soul claims it arrives when both your parents and your children start telling you what’s best for you.
For some of us, the Middle Ages is an emotional state of anxiety in which we realize that the expiration date on our bodies is rapidly approaching, causing us to reflect on the fact that we have accomplished little since placing third in the eighth grade science fair for our research on firecrackers.
The German word for midlife crisis, Torschlusspanik, literally means “the panic of closing doors.” (The Russian word is Vuttzadealwithmyhairs-cavich.) Somewhere between the ages of thirty-eight and fifty-three, most of us enter a life stage where our children begin staying up late after tucking us into bed. Who knows what they’re doing? They could be writing their names on the back of our expensive knickknacks.
The following questions may help you determine whether or not you are in the midst of such a crisis. Then again, these questions may not help at all. But I hope they’ll be good for a smile or two.
When I stand in front of the mirror, I:
Thank God for His awesome handiwork.
Close my eyes and grind my teeth.
Can see my rear end without turning around.
My hair is:
I believe we could solve this global warming thing:
If all of us would just drive Smart Cars with seating capacity for three people who, combined, weigh as much as a Rice Krispy square.
If my kids would just keep the refrigerator door closed.
If we could find a way to harness my hot flashes.
When I look at my teenager, I think:
This child is a delight!
Who swapped the baskets in the hospital nursery room?
For this I have stretch marks?
Life insurance salesmen don’t call.
You can work up an appetite filling the bird feeder.
No more hair on your pillow.
All the heartburn makes it easier to diet.
You’re old enough to die of natural causes.
You can’t hear your spouse snore.
You’ve finally paid off your college tuition.
No more hang-gliding accidents.
Your plaid pants are back in style.
You get mail every day: bills.
No more midlife crisis.
You have more bridgework than all of Venice.
Tuck in your shirt or leave it out. Who cares?
You have a new lease on life because the doctor has given you three years to live.
Your parents don’t tell you what to do anymore.
You’re off the Army Reserve list.
You can withdraw from your IRA without penalty.
You’ll never go through puberty again.
No more high school exams.
Others offer to carry your luggage. And you let them.
Your skateboarding grandson wants your old tweed jacket because it’s cool.
You learn new vocabulary words like “macular degeneration.”
Stay up as late as you want. Sometimes until 8 p.m.
Entertain neighbor kids with your false teeth.
Dinner at 3 p.m.
Senior discounts.
The police used to warn you to slow down, now it’s the doctor.
Your kids don’t ask for money. They just want it in the will.
The following statement best describes me:
I am happy in my workplace, content with my body, perky, fresh as a spring morning.
It’s a miracle that I’m not out on a ledge somewhere.
I am so confused I dropped my mother off at soccer and my daughter at the gerontologist.
When it comes to my job:
I get goose bumps knowing what a blessing I am to have around.
Job? I ended my last one the way I began it—I was fired with enthusiasm.
I didn’t have to work until I was four. It’s been nonstop since.
After a visit to the doctor, I:
When I think of finances, I:
Know I am right on track due to wise fiscal planning that started when I was twelve.
Am wondering how to reconcile my net income with my gross habits.
Know that I have all the money I’ll ever need if I die by 2 p.m. today.
The following best describes my view of aging:
Thanks to antiaging books and natural herbs, I will be in peak physical condition well past a hundred.
I don’t plan to grow old gracefully. Like Rita Rudner, I plan to “have facelifts until my ears join together.”
Except for the occasional heart attack, I feel as young as ever.
When I see my daughter being picked up by her date, I:
Give thanks that she has finally met such a fine gentleman.
Wish I had installed razor wire in the front yard.
Feel like I’m handing a Rembrandt over to a chimpanzee.
My favorite song is now:
Johnny Nash: “I Can See Clearly Now.”
Roberta Flack: “The First Time Ever I Slipped a Disc.”
B. J. Thomas: “Hair Plugs Keep Fallin’ Off My Head.”
If you answered “a” even once, please leave the room and don’t come back until you apologize to the rest of us and are carrying chocolate. If you answered “b” more than twice, please study my book Laughing Matters. If you gravitated toward the “c” answers, you qualify for the Midlife Discount. Ask for it at fine restaurants everywhere. Tell them Dr. Phil sent you.
The other day I looked in the mirror and realized once again that I don’t have trouble growing hair. But location is a problem. And location is everything when it comes to hair.
I have placed several helpful sayings throughout the house. In my study is an old Ira Wallach quote that says, “Statistics indicate that as a result of overwork, modern executives are dropping like flies on the nation’s golf courses.”
There’s a Bible verse on my fridge: “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30, KJV).
And now there’s the Midlifer’s Motto on my mirror: “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day” (2 Corinthians 4:16).
I love the word renewal It speaks of better things ahead. It reminds me of a God who has promised to make all things new one day. I began to hang on to that promise a little more tightly as we entered uncharted territory with Mom and Dad.